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A SERMON. |
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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
242
A SERMON.
Thou discord in this choral harmony!
That dost profane the loveliest light and air
God ever gave: be still, and look, and listen!
Canst see yon fair cloud floating in the sun,
And blush not, watching its serener life?
Canst hear the fragrant grass grow up toward God,
With low, perpetual chant of praise and prayer,
Nor grieve that your soul grows the other way?
Forego that tone, made harsh by a hard heart,
And hearken, if you're not afraid to hearken,
Yon robin's careless carol, glad and sweet,
Mocking the sunshine with his merry trill:
Suppose you try to chord your voice with his—
But first, learn love and wisdom of him, lady!
That dost profane the loveliest light and air
God ever gave: be still, and look, and listen!
Canst see yon fair cloud floating in the sun,
And blush not, watching its serener life?
Canst hear the fragrant grass grow up toward God,
With low, perpetual chant of praise and prayer,
Nor grieve that your soul grows the other way?
Forego that tone, made harsh by a hard heart,
And hearken, if you're not afraid to hearken,
Yon robin's careless carol, glad and sweet,
Mocking the sunshine with his merry trill:
Suppose you try to chord your voice with his—
But first, learn love and wisdom of him, lady!
How dare you bring your inharmonious heart
To such a scene? How dare you let your voice
Talk out of tune so with the voice of God
In earth and sky? The balmy air about you
Is Heaven's great gift, vouchsafed to you to make
Vocal with all melodious truths, and you
Fret it with false words from a falser soul,
And poison it with the breath of calumny!
Learn reverence, bold one, for true Nature's heart,
If not for that your sister woman bears!
For Nature's heart, pleading in every wave
That wastes its wistful music at your feet.
To such a scene? How dare you let your voice
Talk out of tune so with the voice of God
In earth and sky? The balmy air about you
Is Heaven's great gift, vouchsafed to you to make
243
Fret it with false words from a falser soul,
And poison it with the breath of calumny!
Learn reverence, bold one, for true Nature's heart,
If not for that your sister woman bears!
For Nature's heart, pleading in every wave
That wastes its wistful music at your feet.
Take back your cold, inane, and carping mind
Into the world you came from and belong to—
The world of common cares and sordid aims:
These happy haunts can spare you, little one!
The dew-fed grass will grow as well without you,
The woodland choirs will scarce require your voice,
The starlit wave without your smile will glisten,
The proud patrician trees will miss you not.
Into the world you came from and belong to—
The world of common cares and sordid aims:
These happy haunts can spare you, little one!
The dew-fed grass will grow as well without you,
The woodland choirs will scarce require your voice,
The starlit wave without your smile will glisten,
The proud patrician trees will miss you not.
Go, waste God's glorious boon of summer hours
Among your mates, as shallow, in small talk
Of dress, or weather, or the last elopement!
Go, mar the canvas with distorted face
Of dog or cat; or worse, profanely mock,
With gaudy beads, the pure light-painted flower!
Go, trim your cap, embroider your visite,
Crocher a purse, do any petty thing;
But, in the name of truth, religion, beauty,
Let Nature's marvellous mystery alone,
Nor ask such airs, such skies, to waste the wealth
They keep for nobler beings, upon you!
Or stay, and learn of every bird and bloom,
That sends its heart to heaven in song or sigh,
The lesson that you need—the law of love!
Among your mates, as shallow, in small talk
Of dress, or weather, or the last elopement!
Go, mar the canvas with distorted face
Of dog or cat; or worse, profanely mock,
With gaudy beads, the pure light-painted flower!
Go, trim your cap, embroider your visite,
Crocher a purse, do any petty thing;
But, in the name of truth, religion, beauty,
Let Nature's marvellous mystery alone,
Nor ask such airs, such skies, to waste the wealth
244
Or stay, and learn of every bird and bloom,
That sends its heart to heaven in song or sigh,
The lesson that you need—the law of love!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |