Poems by Hartley Coleridge | ||
381
II. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.
And yet I deem we rightly may rejoiceWhen the chief shepherd of the many flocks,
That wait the high call of his pastoral voice
On many lawns or yellow pastures choice,
Or crop the turf beneath the sheltering rocks,—
Comes to unite this lone and sever'd fold,
That feed so gently on their native flowers,
With the best sheep that bled in days of old.
Oh! should we not be thankful to behold
One shepherd chief in such a fold as ours?
How may the Sabbath utterance of the dell,
With all the churches, make a mighty one,
And with the minster organ's gorgeous swell
The simple psalm combine in unison.
Poems by Hartley Coleridge | ||