The poetical works of Leigh Hunt Now finally collected, revised by himself, and edited by his son, Thornton Hunt. With illustrations by Corbould |
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
 | The poetical works of Leigh Hunt |  |
II.
Yes, I beheld the old accustom'd sight,
Pit, boxes, galleries; I was at “the play;”
I saw uprise the stage's strange floor-day,
And music tuning as in tune's despite;
Childhood I saw, glad-faced, that squeezeth tight
One's hand, while the rapt curtain soars away,—
And beauty and age, and all that piled array—
Thousands of souls drawn to one wise delight.
Pit, boxes, galleries; I was at “the play;”
I saw uprise the stage's strange floor-day,
And music tuning as in tune's despite;
Childhood I saw, glad-faced, that squeezeth tight
One's hand, while the rapt curtain soars away,—
And beauty and age, and all that piled array—
Thousands of souls drawn to one wise delight.
A noble spectacle!—Noble in mirth—
Nobler in sacred fellowship of tears!
I've often asked myself what sight on earth
Is worth the fancying of our fellow spheres;
And this is one—whole hosts in love with worth,
Judging the shapes of their own hopes and fears.
Nobler in sacred fellowship of tears!
I've often asked myself what sight on earth
Is worth the fancying of our fellow spheres;
And this is one—whole hosts in love with worth,
Judging the shapes of their own hopes and fears.
| The poetical works of Leigh Hunt | |