 | My Lyrical Life |  |
THIS WORLD IS FULL OF BEAUTY.
There lives a Voice within me, a guest-angel of my heart,
And its bird-like warbles win me, till the tears a-tremble start;
Up evermore it springeth, like some magic melody,
And evermore it singeth this sweet song of songs to me—
“This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above.
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.”
And its bird-like warbles win me, till the tears a-tremble start;
Up evermore it springeth, like some magic melody,
And evermore it singeth this sweet song of songs to me—
“This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above.
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.”
274
Morn's budding, bright, melodious hour comes sweetly as of yore;
Night's starry tendernesses dower with glory evermore:
But there be million hearts accursed, where no glad sunbursts shine,
And there be million souls athirst for Life's immortal wine.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
Night's starry tendernesses dower with glory evermore:
But there be million hearts accursed, where no glad sunbursts shine,
And there be million souls athirst for Life's immortal wine.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
If faith, and hope, and kindness passed, as coin, 'twixt heart and heart,
Up through the eye's tear-blindness, how the sudden soul should start!
The dreary, dim, and desolate, would wear a sunny bloom,
And Love should spring from buried Hate, like flowers from Winter's tomb.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
Up through the eye's tear-blindness, how the sudden soul should start!
The dreary, dim, and desolate, would wear a sunny bloom,
And Love should spring from buried Hate, like flowers from Winter's tomb.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
Were truth our uttered language, Spirits might talk with men,
And God-illumined earth should see the Golden Age again;
The burthened heart should soar in mirth like Morn's young prophet-lark,
And Misery's last tear wept on earth quench Hell's last cunning spark!
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
And God-illumined earth should see the Golden Age again;
The burthened heart should soar in mirth like Morn's young prophet-lark,
And Misery's last tear wept on earth quench Hell's last cunning spark!
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And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
We hear the cry for bread with plenty smiling all around;
Hill and valley in their bounty blush for Man with fruitage crowned.
What a merry world it might be, opulent for all, and aye,
With its lands that ask for labour, and its wealth that wastes away!
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
Hill and valley in their bounty blush for Man with fruitage crowned.
What a merry world it might be, opulent for all, and aye,
With its lands that ask for labour, and its wealth that wastes away!
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.
The leaf-tongues of the forest, and the flower-lips of the sod—
The happy Birds that hymn their raptures in the ear of God—
The summer wind that bringeth music over land and sea,
Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs to me—
“This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.”
The happy Birds that hymn their raptures in the ear of God—
The summer wind that bringeth music over land and sea,
Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs to me—
“This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be as full of love.”
| My Lyrical Life | |