Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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RICHES. |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
RICHES.
1.
He who has least, has most—richest with noughtBeyond Life's grand and simplest Goods, an Eye
Not easydazzled with vain Glitter, high
Yet sober Feeling of what this Life ought
To be—a loving Heart, a Spirit taught
On Nature's solid Ground to build up, by
The firm Materials of Reality,
Its Happiness, not by vain Fancy wrought
From airy Nothings, but substantial Bliss:
Bliss to be pressed unto the human Heart
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That daily Warmth of human Love, which is
God's chosen Altarflame; for know, thou art
Not yet a Man, unless thou liv'st by this!
2.
He who has most is poorest, for he goesNot into his ownself enough, to find
His Happiness—for still from our own Mind
Must it be fashioned forth, and with the Throes
Of our own Heart must it have Birth, like those
Which to the poorest Mother's Bosom bind
The Child of her own Womb, and make her blind
To all that it may want; see what Love does,
The Beautifier! he who makes this so,
So rude, imperfect World more lovely than
The Hues by Raphael thrown above the Brow
Of his Madonna!— all that Riches can
Teach us, is in ourselves this Truth to know,
That they are needless to be «quite a Man»!
3.
They loose the Sinews of our Industry,Make Purpose faint, and Execution slow,
Religion a mere Form, impelled on no
Unwearied Wing of Faith towards the Sky,
But glancing still, with dull and filmy Eye,
On those bless'd Words, which no true Meaning show
'Till quickened into Life by holy Glow
Of Feeling; in our bitterest Misery
They first shine forth with their celestial Light.
And oh! methinks, it were worth while to be
A Beggar by the Road, to feel aright
The Force of that divinest Prayer, as we
Should do, «our Father which art in Heaven», see
Thy Child, and keep him ever in thy Sight:
«Thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done on Earth
As 'tis in Heaven»! and if thou feel'st the Worth
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Kingdom will be already come, and Bliss
Will fill thy Heart, and flow from it, as flows
The Perfume from the summeropening Rose!
And if his divine Will be done in thee
As up in Heaven in the Angels, He
Will enter into thee, and thou, like those,
Wilt be a perfect Angel, blessed as they!
Tho' thou hast not a stone, whereon to lay
Thy Head, yet thou shalt sleep so sweetly, yea!
Such Sleep as Wealth on pillowed Down ne'er knows;
In God's own Bosom shalt thou sleep, and o'er
Thy Head shall Visions of the Blessed play,
Life's bitter Breath thou shalt not breathe of more,
But Ether, and be served upon thy Way
By Spirits, still obedient to thy Sway!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |