 | Metrical essays |  |
153
THE VOICE OF NATURE.
Feels thy high heart the pulse of vanity?—Behold the quiet grandeur of the hills,
Observe how small a space thy greatness fills,
A grain on earth!—a raindrop on the sea!—
Art thou admired—acknowledged beautiful?
O! view the evening sky when all array'd
In gorgeous light; mark with what speed 'tis dull!
Then tell thy soul how swift the lovely fade!
Are thy blue eyes like stars?—the stars must fall—
Thy voice a warbling stream?—the stream may dry—
Thy lips like roses?—roses too will die—
Thy brow yet young?—age cannot youth recal—
The beautiful of earth are only given
As dreams of the reality of heaven!
| Metrical essays | |