 | The lost pleiad ; and other poems |  |
SHELLEY.
“How rose in melody that Child of Love!”—
Young.
Young.
The vulgar hated thee, because thy soul
Would stoop not to the vulgar things of earth;
But, eagle-like, spurned all but self-control,
Though proud not of the privilege of birth—
And from the hawks of earth soared gloriously,
On wings of fire, into the heavens on high.
Would stoop not to the vulgar things of earth;
But, eagle-like, spurned all but self-control,
Though proud not of the privilege of birth—
And from the hawks of earth soared gloriously,
On wings of fire, into the heavens on high.
Thy soul was like an ocean, crystal, deep,
Whose bottom is all paved with sands of gold;
Whose thoughts, like sea nymphs, there did ever keep
Strange pastime, ever striving to unfold
Their heavenly charms, while weaving songs for thee,
To clothe thy name in immortality.
Whose bottom is all paved with sands of gold;
Whose thoughts, like sea nymphs, there did ever keep
Strange pastime, ever striving to unfold
Their heavenly charms, while weaving songs for thee,
To clothe thy name in immortality.
Thou didst desire the unadulterate truth,
As one who seeks what may be found, if sought—
The first love of his heart in earliest youth—
Though not amid the realms of mortal thought—
And, soaring far beyond all things, didst bring
Back unto Man the truths which Angels sing.
As one who seeks what may be found, if sought—
The first love of his heart in earliest youth—
Though not amid the realms of mortal thought—
And, soaring far beyond all things, didst bring
Back unto Man the truths which Angels sing.
As when God said of old, “Let there be light?”
“And there was light,” amid the Halls of Time;
So, when thy soul dawned on the world's dark night,
All things grew bright beneath its song sublime,
Till, unto man's high soul such joy was given,
The things of earth became like things of Heaven.
“And there was light,” amid the Halls of Time;
So, when thy soul dawned on the world's dark night,
All things grew bright beneath its song sublime,
Till, unto man's high soul such joy was given,
The things of earth became like things of Heaven.
Oaky Grove, Ga., August 10th, 1843.
| The lost pleiad ; and other poems | |