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The Woodwax in Bloom
We roam afar, o'er sea and land,
The grand and beautiful to see;
But things that near us lie, at hand,
See not; though grand and fair they be.
The grand and beautiful to see;
But things that near us lie, at hand,
See not; though grand and fair they be.
We have no sense to feel their power;
The ocean's grandeur and its might,
The beauty of the sunset hour,
How oft they fail to give delight!
The ocean's grandeur and its might,
The beauty of the sunset hour,
How oft they fail to give delight!
Spread with a lavish wealth around,
The golden woodwax, see in bloom!
O'er hills and pastures wide 'tis found,
In rocky clefts its roots find room.
The golden woodwax, see in bloom!
O'er hills and pastures wide 'tis found,
In rocky clefts its roots find room.
The rugged rocks a beauty wear,
That else we never should behold;
The barren hills grow wondrous fair,
Each covered with its cloth of gold!
That else we never should behold;
The barren hills grow wondrous fair,
Each covered with its cloth of gold!
A scene surpassing all that kings,
With all their riches, can display;
A glory every summer brings,
Effulgent pomp of summer's day!
With all their riches, can display;
A glory every summer brings,
Effulgent pomp of summer's day!
483
Yet vainly is that glory shown
To careless eyes, and grovelling mind;
That dull to Nature's charms have grown,
And to her beauty, grandeur, blind.
To careless eyes, and grovelling mind;
That dull to Nature's charms have grown,
And to her beauty, grandeur, blind.
Why do we roam, with discontent,
Afar; when Nature meets us here?
Such glory to our hills has lent,
Such grandeur in the ocean near?
Afar; when Nature meets us here?
Such glory to our hills has lent,
Such grandeur in the ocean near?
Poem No. 763; c. 20 July 1875
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