 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
128
XIV.
[Methinks my heart is cold and earthly grown]
Methinks my heart is cold and earthly grown,So little doth the sight of any tree,
Or voice of winds that rave all night alone,
Or glories of the mountain, profit me.
The world becomes too wise: yet wiser far
Was He that fixed in heaven yon burnish'd star,
And thought to glad us with His morning-skies:
But nothing now hath any new surprise;
Daylight is common, and the darkness naught;
We cannot read God's silence, as we ought,
And Nature's voice falls oftenest on deaf ears—
Yet can I sometimes lift enraptur'd eyes,
And sometimes, too, divine immortal thought,
Alone, upon a starry night, with tears.
| Poems by James Rhoades | |