 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
134
THE LIGHT BALLOON.
Spirits that dwell in the world of air!
Your voices and viewless harps attune,
To bid me hail! as I enter there—
I'm coming! I'm coming! the light balloon!
Your voices and viewless harps attune,
To bid me hail! as I enter there—
I'm coming! I'm coming! the light balloon!
Ye that have flown to seek me here,
Spread your gentle and buoyant wings,
To waft me off, till I mount and clear
From the sight and the sound of earthly things!
Spread your gentle and buoyant wings,
To waft me off, till I mount and clear
From the sight and the sound of earthly things!
Now, the mark of a thousand eyes,
But soon to fade from the mortal view;
Away! away! to the shining skies,
I, like a spirit, am speeding, too.
But soon to fade from the mortal view;
Away! away! to the shining skies,
I, like a spirit, am speeding, too.
Ye who stand on your rolling ball,
The shadowy earth, the clouds will soon
Lie between us, and hide you all,
Like an ocean of waves, from the light balloon!
The shadowy earth, the clouds will soon
Lie between us, and hide you all,
Like an ocean of waves, from the light balloon!
Yonder sable, vapory mass,
So big with the bolt that would strike me through,
I shall approach, elude, and pass;
And glide up, up to the pure, bright blue.
So big with the bolt that would strike me through,
I shall approach, elude, and pass;
And glide up, up to the pure, bright blue.
My master's trusty and airy boat,
Gallantly trimmed, my course I keep;
Without a billow beneath, I float,
A lonely sail, on the boundless deep.
Gallantly trimmed, my course I keep;
Without a billow beneath, I float,
A lonely sail, on the boundless deep.
135
The sun! the sun is my polar star;
I traverse a sea that has ne'er been crossed!
The earth is gone! I have left it far
Behind, as a speck, in the distance lost.
I traverse a sea that has ne'er been crossed!
The earth is gone! I have left it far
Behind, as a speck, in the distance lost.
Above the walks, and the tribes of men!
Beyond the traces of human power!
Out of the reach of the mortal ken!
'T is a perilous, strange, momentous hour!
Beyond the traces of human power!
Out of the reach of the mortal ken!
'T is a perilous, strange, momentous hour!
Now, my maker, I have thee here!
Pray to thine own, for the needed boon
Of His breath to waft, and His hand to steer,
To a peaceful haven, thy light balloon!
Pray to thine own, for the needed boon
Of His breath to waft, and His hand to steer,
To a peaceful haven, thy light balloon!
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |