 | Song and Story |  |
131
MYSTERIES.
Warm calms of heaven o'erbrood the earth;
On scented sward my feet are pressed;
Spring breezes make melodious mirth,
Yet silent awe pervades my breast;
To-day by Nature I am shown
Her marvellous elements alone.
On scented sward my feet are pressed;
Spring breezes make melodious mirth,
Yet silent awe pervades my breast;
To-day by Nature I am shown
Her marvellous elements alone.
I linger where the daisies throng,
With golden disc on supple stem,
And careless of their beauty, long
To unveil the impulse guiding them;
And wonderingly my soul receives
The resurrections of the leaves.
With golden disc on supple stem,
And careless of their beauty, long
To unveil the impulse guiding them;
And wonderingly my soul receives
The resurrections of the leaves.
I cannot praise the emerald meads,
Where pomp of lengthening clover peers,
Nor that green radiance of the reeds
That cleave the marsh with slender spears.
My reverent heed alone I give
The miracle that has made them live.
Where pomp of lengthening clover peers,
Nor that green radiance of the reeds
That cleave the marsh with slender spears.
My reverent heed alone I give
The miracle that has made them live.
132
Those blossoming trees whence odor floats,
The full-fed rivulet's joy intense,
The ecstatic trills from feathered throats,
Pierce me with strange bewilderments.
In all things lovely I would guess
The mystery of their loveliness.
The full-fed rivulet's joy intense,
The ecstatic trills from feathered throats,
Pierce me with strange bewilderments.
In all things lovely I would guess
The mystery of their loveliness.
But while I muse, the westering day
Drops from the horizon's damask air;
The pastoral distances turn gray;
New mystery deepens everywhere.
And high night brings, released from thrall,
The mightiest mystery of all.
Drops from the horizon's damask air;
The pastoral distances turn gray;
New mystery deepens everywhere.
And high night brings, released from thrall,
The mightiest mystery of all.
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