Poems on various subjects by Charles Lloyd |
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Elegy written on a Sunday Morning.
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 | Poems on various subjects |  |
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Elegy written on a Sunday Morning.
Thou beauteous landscape, and thou azure sky,
Thou early zephyr, and thou orient ray,
Ye fairy flowers that meet my gladden'd eye,
Ye notes of bliss that hail the vernal day;
Thou early zephyr, and thou orient ray,
Ye fairy flowers that meet my gladden'd eye,
Ye notes of bliss that hail the vernal day;
I feel ye melt my heart, and prompt the tear,
The grateful tear that charms like these are given,
Far from my soul ye chace each thought severe,
And swift transport it to the God of heaven.
The grateful tear that charms like these are given,
Far from my soul ye chace each thought severe,
And swift transport it to the God of heaven.
Creation smiles, and man shall also smile,
But ah! the smile must still be mix'd with pain,
To think what thousands in this mortal coil
Behold these glories, and behold in vain.
But ah! the smile must still be mix'd with pain,
To think what thousands in this mortal coil
Behold these glories, and behold in vain.
To think how man with cold perverted heart,
Slights those impressions that ensure his health,
Leaves Nature's charms and seeks the pomp of Art,
Leaves secret bliss, for cold apparent wealth.
Slights those impressions that ensure his health,
Leaves Nature's charms and seeks the pomp of Art,
Leaves secret bliss, for cold apparent wealth.
Creation's all-sufficient volume leaves
Where goodness bursts, and smiles at every page,
The web of sophistry degraded weaves,
And lights the torch of irreligious rage.
Where goodness bursts, and smiles at every page,
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And lights the torch of irreligious rage.
Exchanging soul-felt goodness for a creed,
And madly blind, they nature's charms refuse,
But be it mine, th'extensive book to read,
Nor poorly vain, the simple page misuse.
And madly blind, they nature's charms refuse,
But be it mine, th'extensive book to read,
Nor poorly vain, the simple page misuse.
Let me nor heed th'enthusiastic whine,
Nor fondly listen to each weak pretence,
Nor idly busy, trifle, to define
The monkish saw, where sound has banish'd sense.
Nor fondly listen to each weak pretence,
Nor idly busy, trifle, to define
The monkish saw, where sound has banish'd sense.
Let me, while others skulk to drowsy cell,
Mope o'er their book, or bend their thoughtless way
At childish summons of th'accustom'd bell,
With every vacant wish, but wish—to pray,
Mope o'er their book, or bend their thoughtless way
At childish summons of th'accustom'd bell,
With every vacant wish, but wish—to pray,
Cast o'er some boundless view my swimming eyes,
Or rove the mountain's head, the sandy beach,
And while my soul in gratitude shall rise,
Spurn at the ideot aid of prompted speech.
Or rove the mountain's head, the sandy beach,
And while my soul in gratitude shall rise,
Spurn at the ideot aid of prompted speech.
| Poems on various subjects | |