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 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Enigma No. 16.
Primeval woods my parent's birth
Beheld, where no loud axe was heard,
Where through a solitary earth
No voice the leafy echoes stirred;
But I was born in gloominess profound,
In sable swaddling clothes the child of light was bound.
Beheld, where no loud axe was heard,
Where through a solitary earth
No voice the leafy echoes stirred;
But I was born in gloominess profound,
In sable swaddling clothes the child of light was bound.
Released at length by human skill,
From long confinement forth I sped,
And in each city's highway still
I linger far beneath your tread;
Though there are times when, grovelling thus no more,
Beyond the clouds of earth, a prisoner still, I soar.
From long confinement forth I sped,
And in each city's highway still
I linger far beneath your tread;
Though there are times when, grovelling thus no more,
Beyond the clouds of earth, a prisoner still, I soar.
254
No eye my subtle form may see,
Till, coming forth to light,
A slow consumption wasteth me
In man's unpitying sight.
Yet when from durance vile I swift escape,
All feel my baleful presence, though none see my shape.
Till, coming forth to light,
A slow consumption wasteth me
In man's unpitying sight.
Yet when from durance vile I swift escape,
All feel my baleful presence, though none see my shape.
I smile upon the giddy scene
Of mirth, and revelry, and song;
Yet in the sacred courts have been
Devotion's handmaid long;
With darkness waging constant strife and sure,
I ever shun the day-beams though so bright and pure.
Of mirth, and revelry, and song;
Yet in the sacred courts have been
Devotion's handmaid long;
With darkness waging constant strife and sure,
I ever shun the day-beams though so bright and pure.
Though none have ever heard my voice,
Yet words of gladness traced in me
Have bid full many a heart rejoice,
When England's flag waved high and free.
And with the song of victory sweetly blended
The full deep hymn of praise that war's dark storm was ended.
Yet words of gladness traced in me
Have bid full many a heart rejoice,
When England's flag waved high and free.
And with the song of victory sweetly blended
The full deep hymn of praise that war's dark storm was ended.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |