The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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A WISH. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
43
A WISH.
Oh! give me a cot in some wood-shaded glen,
Shut in from the clangour of conflict and pain,—
Far away from the turmoil of town-prisoned men,
Who strive for subsistence, and struggle for gain!
Aloof from all envy, secure from annoy,
My chiefest companions my wife and my child,—
I could think with some purpose, and labour with joy,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
Shut in from the clangour of conflict and pain,—
Far away from the turmoil of town-prisoned men,
Who strive for subsistence, and struggle for gain!
Aloof from all envy, secure from annoy,
My chiefest companions my wife and my child,—
I could think with some purpose, and labour with joy,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
The lark should arouse me to action and thought,—
I would take my first draught at the health-giving rill;
I would gaze on the beauties that morning had brought,
As I strengthened my limbs up the slope of the hill.
The early prayer uttered, the early meal done,
The day should bring uses and joys undefiled;
Some good should be gathered, some knowledge be won,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
I would take my first draught at the health-giving rill;
I would gaze on the beauties that morning had brought,
As I strengthened my limbs up the slope of the hill.
The early prayer uttered, the early meal done,
The day should bring uses and joys undefiled;
Some good should be gathered, some knowledge be won,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
When the clouds which were golden grew faint in the west,
The sun having left them to melt in the sky,—
When Nature seemed folding her mantle for rest,
And Hesperus hung his bright cresset on high,—
I would draw up my household about the fireside
(Unless the dear Muses my spirit beguiled),
To talk with and teach them, with pleasure and pride,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
The sun having left them to melt in the sky,—
When Nature seemed folding her mantle for rest,
And Hesperus hung his bright cresset on high,—
I would draw up my household about the fireside
(Unless the dear Muses my spirit beguiled),
To talk with and teach them, with pleasure and pride,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
44
I would have—would kind Fortune her bounty impart,
Nor blind me to virtue, nor steel me to woe—
Some good thing and graceful in Genius and Art:—
Some Music, to make my best feelings o'erflow;
Some touch of the Painter, to solace my eyes,
Some books, to enchant my dark cares till they smiled;
Some shape of the Sculptor, to charm and surprise,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
Nor blind me to virtue, nor steel me to woe—
Some good thing and graceful in Genius and Art:—
Some Music, to make my best feelings o'erflow;
Some touch of the Painter, to solace my eyes,
Some books, to enchant my dark cares till they smiled;
Some shape of the Sculptor, to charm and surprise,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
Surrounded by Nature, I could not but see
In each change of Season God's goodness unworn;
Young Spring would delight with bloom, beauty, and glee,
Bright Summer with hay-harvest,—Autumn with corn.
Even Winter would charm; I should love to behold
His frost-work fantastic, his snow-drifts up-piled,
His phalanx of storm-clouds arrayed and unrolled,
O'er that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
In each change of Season God's goodness unworn;
Young Spring would delight with bloom, beauty, and glee,
Bright Summer with hay-harvest,—Autumn with corn.
Even Winter would charm; I should love to behold
His frost-work fantastic, his snow-drifts up-piled,
His phalanx of storm-clouds arrayed and unrolled,
O'er that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.
I would blend with benevolence nothing austere,—
To the wayward be calm, to the humble be kind;
To the heart of the mourner bring comfort and cheer,
And kindle new hopes in the cloudiest mind;
Thus earnest and helping, confiding and just,
I should get my reward from a source undefiled;
With assurance of mercy go down to the dust,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild!
To the wayward be calm, to the humble be kind;
To the heart of the mourner bring comfort and cheer,
And kindle new hopes in the cloudiest mind;
Thus earnest and helping, confiding and just,
I should get my reward from a source undefiled;
With assurance of mercy go down to the dust,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |