A Song of Labour and Other Poems | ||
54
O, SUMMER DAY.
O, summer day, pour down your love,
That I may idly lie
And watch the happy clouds that move—
The Mercuries of the sky;
That I may idly lie
And watch the happy clouds that move—
The Mercuries of the sky;
Who, sent by God on some sweet task,
Will loiter on their way,
As if they gently paused to ask
His sanction to their stay.
Will loiter on their way,
As if they gently paused to ask
His sanction to their stay.
I hear the birds—I see the flowers
From their cool places peep,
And odorous as the purple hours
That hush the sun asleep.
From their cool places peep,
And odorous as the purple hours
That hush the sun asleep.
I hear each breathing of the wind,
Each whisper of the tree,
That, taller than its branchy kind,
Bows down and speaks to me.
Each whisper of the tree,
That, taller than its branchy kind,
Bows down and speaks to me.
A languor creeps throughout my blood,
Whose happy workings move
The heart to its sublimest mood
Of all-embracing love.
Whose happy workings move
The heart to its sublimest mood
Of all-embracing love.
I feel no idle purpose roll
Its restless freak in me;
But one vast wish to shoot my soul
Through everything I see,
Its restless freak in me;
But one vast wish to shoot my soul
Through everything I see,
And be a part of this sweet light
That warms the breathing day;
To sink from aught of mortal sight,
And dream myself from clay.
That warms the breathing day;
To sink from aught of mortal sight,
And dream myself from clay.
A Song of Labour and Other Poems | ||