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51
A HARP OF MANY STRINGS.
Softly doth sleep at dawn unlock
The forted palace where she broods;
Then back to their chambers instant flock
The brain's unnumbered multitudes.
The forted palace where she broods;
Then back to their chambers instant flock
The brain's unnumbered multitudes.
Through the quick-opened casement, where
An hour before was lonely night,
My fresh eyes meet the crowded glare,
And broad beatitudes of light.
An hour before was lonely night,
My fresh eyes meet the crowded glare,
And broad beatitudes of light.
52
The joyance of the star-cooled trees,
Earth's baptizement in dewy air,
Love-messages through whispering breeze,
The sky's gold crown of misty hair,
Earth's baptizement in dewy air,
Love-messages through whispering breeze,
The sky's gold crown of misty hair,
The winds that with grave shadows romp,
Splendors that through the glad leaves leap,
Young Morning's sunny pilèd pomp,—
All these are harvests I may reap.
Splendors that through the glad leaves leap,
Young Morning's sunny pilèd pomp,—
All these are harvests I may reap.
Nor does the wonder steal away
If I step out into the blaze,—
The broad is changed for subtler day,
The grosser for minute amaze;
If I step out into the blaze,—
The broad is changed for subtler day,
The grosser for minute amaze;
For leaf and blossom, blade and bush,
So vibrate each with separate law,
And beauty so doth all beflush,
That wonder deepens into awe.
So vibrate each with separate law,
And beauty so doth all beflush,
That wonder deepens into awe.
53
From sleepless nature, myriad-faced,
Upglimmers such a sea of eyes,
My brain, with sibyl-lights belaced,
Illumined wills it will be wise.
Upglimmers such a sea of eyes,
My brain, with sibyl-lights belaced,
Illumined wills it will be wise.
And thought is chafed by orphic hints,
The common glistens weird and strange,
And melt the firmest forms and tints
In mystic sequences of change.
The common glistens weird and strange,
And melt the firmest forms and tints
In mystic sequences of change.
And all about are sights and sounds
That suckle rapture, since began
Creation's radiant rhythmic rounds
Through rose and beetle up to man.
That suckle rapture, since began
Creation's radiant rhythmic rounds
Through rose and beetle up to man.
No pulse of life that humblest beats,
On earth below, in air above,
But its unhindered motion heats
In healthy hearts the pulse of love.
On earth below, in air above,
But its unhindered motion heats
In healthy hearts the pulse of love.
54
Each dumbest creature music wakes
That through the deeper life-chord rings,
As love upon us quivering shakes
The warmth that lifts seraphic wings.
That through the deeper life-chord rings,
As love upon us quivering shakes
The warmth that lifts seraphic wings.
Across the isles of joy and woe
Æolian gales forever sweep;
Than hearts that faintly feel them blow
More blest are hearts they make to weep.
Æolian gales forever sweep;
Than hearts that faintly feel them blow
More blest are hearts they make to weep.
From wide still burning hearths the past
Bejems me with its whitest rays,
Whitened in the high holy blast
Of sage and poet's brain ablaze.
Bejems me with its whitest rays,
Whitened in the high holy blast
Of sage and poet's brain ablaze.
And in my jubilant thought so nurst,
Giant imaginations surge,
As they the bonds of clay would burst,
And daunt me on creation's verge.
Giant imaginations surge,
As they the bonds of clay would burst,
And daunt me on creation's verge.
55
In sleep's far travel what great hosts
Accost the soul, we cannot say;
But gifts are given, as angel-ghosts
Had dyed them in a higher day.
Accost the soul, we cannot say;
But gifts are given, as angel-ghosts
Had dyed them in a higher day.
Great lights great joys forever ply
About my life: the breath that warms
The Sun blows on my cheek, and I
Seem dandled in almighty arms.
About my life: the breath that warms
The Sun blows on my cheek, and I
Seem dandled in almighty arms.
I am a harp of many strings,
And all the day, through night and noon,
Upon me God his music flings,
If I but keep the harp in tune.
And all the day, through night and noon,
Upon me God his music flings,
If I but keep the harp in tune.
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