 | Specimens of American poetry |  |
222
NORMAN PINNEY.
SABBATH MORNING.
How calm comes on this holy day!
Morning unfolds the eastern sky,
And upward takes her lofty way,
Triumphant to her throne on high.
Earth glorious wakes, as o'er her breast
The morning flings her rosy ray,
And, blushing from her dreamless rest,
Unveils her to the gaze of day;
So still the scene, each wakeful sound
Seems hallow'd music breathing round.
Morning unfolds the eastern sky,
And upward takes her lofty way,
Triumphant to her throne on high.
Earth glorious wakes, as o'er her breast
The morning flings her rosy ray,
And, blushing from her dreamless rest,
Unveils her to the gaze of day;
So still the scene, each wakeful sound
Seems hallow'd music breathing round.
The night-wind to their mountain caves,
The morning mists to heaven's blue steep,
And to their ocean depths the waves
Are gone, their holy rest to keep.
'T is tranquil all—around—above—
The forests far, which bound the scene,
Are peaceful as their Maker's love,
Like hills of everlasting green;
And clouds like earthly barriers stand,
Or bulwarks of some viewless land.
The morning mists to heaven's blue steep,
And to their ocean depths the waves
Are gone, their holy rest to keep.
'T is tranquil all—around—above—
The forests far, which bound the scene,
Are peaceful as their Maker's love,
Like hills of everlasting green;
And clouds like earthly barriers stand,
Or bulwarks of some viewless land.
Each tree, that lifts its arms in air,
Or hangs its pensive head from high,
Seems bending at its morning prayer,
Or whispering with the hours gone by.
This holy morning, Lord, is thine—
Let silence sanctify thy praise,
Let heaven and earth in love combine
And morning stars their music raise;—
For 't is the day—joy—joy—ye dead,
When death and hell were captive led.
Or hangs its pensive head from high,
Seems bending at its morning prayer,
Or whispering with the hours gone by.
This holy morning, Lord, is thine—
Let silence sanctify thy praise,
Let heaven and earth in love combine
And morning stars their music raise;—
For 't is the day—joy—joy—ye dead,
When death and hell were captive led.
223
TO ---
How calm is Innocence!—Its glow
Is resting on that cheek's bright hue,
That forehead fair of stainless snow,
And that full eye of cloudless blue,
Like morning on some sleeping sea,
Or hope on dreams of ecstacy.
Is resting on that cheek's bright hue,
That forehead fair of stainless snow,
And that full eye of cloudless blue,
Like morning on some sleeping sea,
Or hope on dreams of ecstacy.
So full and clear its rising beams
Through that soft veil of Beauty shine,
A pictured soul the vision seems
In purity and peace divine;
And thoughts sink lovelier there to rest,
Like day-beams on the rainbow's breast.
Through that soft veil of Beauty shine,
A pictured soul the vision seems
In purity and peace divine;
And thoughts sink lovelier there to rest,
Like day-beams on the rainbow's breast.
Thine is the smile, whose splendors pour
O'er all those lineaments their dyes,
And tell how deep the boundless store
Of treasured joys from whence they rise
As the blue tints of ocean show
How deep its bosom heaves below.
O'er all those lineaments their dyes,
And tell how deep the boundless store
Of treasured joys from whence they rise
As the blue tints of ocean show
How deep its bosom heaves below.
The rays, which palace in the sky,
Or gild the glittering gems of night,
Are wandering in that clear full eye,
Or lingering on that living light,
As if from heaven they came to bear
Those thoughts like holy treasures there.
Or gild the glittering gems of night,
Are wandering in that clear full eye,
Or lingering on that living light,
As if from heaven they came to bear
Those thoughts like holy treasures there.
Yet on those features' purple light,
That look of peace, that soul of love,
There is a charm far, far more bright,
A soft reflection from above,
Come down from its own sphere to bless
That form with deeper loveliness.
That look of peace, that soul of love,
There is a charm far, far more bright,
A soft reflection from above,
Come down from its own sphere to bless
That form with deeper loveliness.
Like some celestial dream, its glow,
Of heaven is on that sainted air,
Soft-mingling with the silent flow
Of holy thought, which rises there;
'T is God's own spirit's blessed ray,
The dawnings of eternal day.
Of heaven is on that sainted air,
Soft-mingling with the silent flow
Of holy thought, which rises there;
'T is God's own spirit's blessed ray,
The dawnings of eternal day.
224
Oh lives there one cold breast can view
That wealth of charms, the unconscious light
Of that full soul, whose thoughts beam through,
And heavenward take their viewless flight,
Yet give one wish a fleeting birth
On this world's pride, the toys of earth!
That wealth of charms, the unconscious light
Of that full soul, whose thoughts beam through,
And heavenward take their viewless flight,
Yet give one wish a fleeting birth
On this world's pride, the toys of earth!
Thou art to me the loveliest glow,
That mantles o'er life's chequered sky,
A living spring whose stream shall flow
Along the track of years gone by,
And with far murmurings deep and clear,
Make music still on memory's ear.
That mantles o'er life's chequered sky,
A living spring whose stream shall flow
Along the track of years gone by,
And with far murmurings deep and clear,
Make music still on memory's ear.
Farewell—I go to foreign skies,
To distant lands, to scenes afar,
Yet there, that one dear form shall rise
Unfading as the morning star,
And smile upon that desert still,
The same as on my native hill.
To distant lands, to scenes afar,
Yet there, that one dear form shall rise
Unfading as the morning star,
And smile upon that desert still,
The same as on my native hill.
| Specimens of American poetry | |