 | The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road |  |
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THE POET AND NATURE
[When things go wrong, as they often will]
When things go wrong, as they often will,
And it's hard to understand,
Just whistle a song, as you face the mill,
And take your work in hand,
And do your best, however men sneer,
And 't will all come right, somehow, my dear,
'T will all come right somehow.
And it's hard to understand,
Just whistle a song, as you face the mill,
And take your work in hand,
And do your best, however men sneer,
And 't will all come right, somehow, my dear,
'T will all come right somehow.
Stick to the work that you have to do,
And whatever it is, don't mind;
Just whistle a song of dreams-come-true,
And in the end you'll find,
A word will help and a smile will cheer
However the work may go, my dear,
However the work may go.
And whatever it is, don't mind;
Just whistle a song of dreams-come-true,
And in the end you'll find,
A word will help and a smile will cheer
However the work may go, my dear,
However the work may go.
158
[The Summer hears you where she swings]
The Summer hears you where she swings
Among her poppy-pods and dreams,
While overhead the redbird sings,
The blue-jay screams.
She hears you by the garden fence,
A twilight sound, that takes the sense
With drowsy indolence.
Among her poppy-pods and dreams,
While overhead the redbird sings,
The blue-jay screams.
She hears you by the garden fence,
A twilight sound, that takes the sense
With drowsy indolence.
Deep in the meditating wood
Where August sits with sultry eyes,
Thinking of leaves and solitude,
And lazy skies,
One listens, searching grass and ground
For your cool crystal of green sound,
That glints around and round.
Where August sits with sultry eyes,
Thinking of leaves and solitude,
And lazy skies,
One listens, searching grass and ground
For your cool crystal of green sound,
That glints around and round.
And on the hills, when sunset glows,
Red as the rose that tints a shell
Of azure pearl, your music grows
A fairy spell;
And at its sound Day lays her down
To rest, in gold and russet gown,
Crowned with her starry crown.
Red as the rose that tints a shell
Of azure pearl, your music grows
A fairy spell;
And at its sound Day lays her down
To rest, in gold and russet gown,
Crowned with her starry crown.
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And lying there, as in a dream,
Hearing your bell-note, at a glance
She seems to see, where moonbeams gleam,
The elfins dance;
And, looking nearer, lo, she sees
Your airy wings pulse in the breeze,
Among the weeds and trees.
Hearing your bell-note, at a glance
She seems to see, where moonbeams gleam,
The elfins dance;
And, looking nearer, lo, she sees
Your airy wings pulse in the breeze,
Among the weeds and trees.
And on a fingertip of dew
She lifts you, singing, to the moon;
And ghosts of wonders, Boyhood knew,
To your frail tune,
Rise from their graves, like mists, and stand
Around you, hand in tiny hand,
Beckoning to Elfinland.
She lifts you, singing, to the moon;
And ghosts of wonders, Boyhood knew,
To your frail tune,
Rise from their graves, like mists, and stand
Around you, hand in tiny hand,
Beckoning to Elfinland.
162
The Oversoul
Lord of the Oversoul, high Power! a partOf life's great purposes! bright Essence, bound
To lofty deeds; one with Earth's common round,
Having dominion o'er the human heart,
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Keep those in mind, in whom the rare seeds start
Of beauty; dreams, that mortals christen Art,
And Love, of which great Nature is the ground.
Exert for them that power, held on high!
And wield your sceptre for their strength of mind!
Sustain their weakness! shield the instrument
Through which you labor, from the needs that lie
Around all life! and in a way as kind
Fulfill your purpose of divine intent.
| The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road | |