 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
243
SYMBOLS.
DEDICATED TO E. M. S.
Still hearts, whose passions never stir,
At times I envy your repose!
Smooth lakes, where coyest wild-fowl whir,
Ye feel no troublous ebbs and flows!
At times I envy your repose!
Smooth lakes, where coyest wild-fowl whir,
Ye feel no troublous ebbs and flows!
Yet, tropic hearts, your fiercer play
Of sun and storm, of noon and night,
Is dearer than perpetual day
In Arctic summer's glacial light.
Of sun and storm, of noon and night,
Is dearer than perpetual day
In Arctic summer's glacial light.
Great clouds, which bear upon your backs
The sunshine, in your breasts the storm—
Alps of the air, whose pathless tracks
Ye course with ever-changing form;
The sunshine, in your breasts the storm—
Alps of the air, whose pathless tracks
Ye course with ever-changing form;
By morning touched with aureole light;
At sunset stranded—firing far
Your dull distress-guns—or at night
Raced through by many a startled star—
At sunset stranded—firing far
Your dull distress-guns—or at night
Raced through by many a startled star—
Ye are the types that Genius loves!
So, moulded by an inward stress,
A shade, a storm, it o'er us moves,
A power to threaten or to bless.
So, moulded by an inward stress,
A shade, a storm, it o'er us moves,
A power to threaten or to bless.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |