Golden Histories, etc By Wathen Mark Wilks Call |
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Living
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 | Golden Histories, etc |  |
178
Living
When from the amber clouds, in sunset regions,
The sweet west winds come panting with delight,
When the huge shadows, in their darkening legions,
Break from their grasp and fly o'er plain and height,
I live, I live.
The sweet west winds come panting with delight,
When the huge shadows, in their darkening legions,
Break from their grasp and fly o'er plain and height,
I live, I live.
When in the forest where the wood-doves murmur,
Or with the merle's ripe note the covert rings.
I feel my tread upon the turf grow firmer,
Or half with Plato wave my soul's young wings,
I live, I live.
Or with the merle's ripe note the covert rings.
I feel my tread upon the turf grow firmer,
Or half with Plato wave my soul's young wings,
I live, I live.
When the tall ferns, that house the Fairy people,
Stand trembling round me, as the morning grows,
Or when, far-off, I see the soaring steeple,
That dim and ghostlike on the twilight shows,
I live, I live.
Stand trembling round me, as the morning grows,
Or when, far-off, I see the soaring steeple,
That dim and ghostlike on the twilight shows,
I live, I live.
179
When in the garden's still, embowered recesses,
A crownless king, I lift my regal spade,
And charm from Toil a strength that heals and blesses.
A perfume from the mould my hand has laid,
I live, I live,
A crownless king, I lift my regal spade,
And charm from Toil a strength that heals and blesses.
A perfume from the mould my hand has laid,
I live, I live,
When called by silver trumpets of the Morning,
Forth from his dazzling portals walks the Sun,
And the Earth hears that old melodious warning,
And wakes her happy children, one by one,
I live, I live.
Forth from his dazzling portals walks the Sun,
And the Earth hears that old melodious warning,
And wakes her happy children, one by one,
I live, I live.
When human-like the moon-awakened Ocean,
Slow rolls his hollow echoes on the air,
And from that endless sound and restless motion
I draw a strength that bids man do and dare,
I live, I live.
Slow rolls his hollow echoes on the air,
And from that endless sound and restless motion
I draw a strength that bids man do and dare,
I live, I live.
When on the lonely barren moor I wander,
Lit by the yellow glare of flaming gorse,
Or, plumed with courage, cease to dream and ponder,
And, centaur-like, fly onward, man and horse,
I live, I live.
Lit by the yellow glare of flaming gorse,
Or, plumed with courage, cease to dream and ponder,
And, centaur-like, fly onward, man and horse,
I live, I live.
The wind across the heath I hail delighted,
The hanging round of everlasting blue;
And while I gaze, half glad and half affrighted,
And shadowy faces look me thro' and thro',
I live, I live.
The hanging round of everlasting blue;
And while I gaze, half glad and half affrighted,
And shadowy faces look me thro' and thro',
I live, I live.
180
I live when Hope renews her morning splendour,
When Memory floats the evening clouds above,
By tender fancies linked to truths as tender,
By faith heroic and victorious love,
I live, I live.
When Memory floats the evening clouds above,
By tender fancies linked to truths as tender,
By faith heroic and victorious love,
I live, I live.
| Golden Histories, etc | |