A Song of Labour and Other Poems By Alexander Anderson |
SUMMER DREAMINGS. |
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A Song of Labour and Other Poems | ||
139
SUMMER DREAMINGS.
There seems a moving life to-day
In everything I see,
The stream that laughs and leaps away,
The grass beside the tree;
In everything I see,
The stream that laughs and leaps away,
The grass beside the tree;
The birds that, like to some swift thought,
Flash through the sweet green boughs,
And pay in every leafy spot
The music of their vows;
Flash through the sweet green boughs,
And pay in every leafy spot
The music of their vows;
The clouds, too, resting on the hill,
Seem to my dreaming eye
Like angels coming to us still
With pardon from on high.
Seem to my dreaming eye
Like angels coming to us still
With pardon from on high.
And as I clasp all this at once,
And feeling no alloy,
I teach my heart to give response
To each sweet call of joy.
And feeling no alloy,
I teach my heart to give response
To each sweet call of joy.
So, dreaming idly as I sit,
And idly dreaming see
The sunny landscape wink and flit
In silent ecstacy:
And idly dreaming see
The sunny landscape wink and flit
In silent ecstacy:
I think that all that can rejoice
This long sweet summer day
Hath power to frame a gentle voice,
And sing in love away.
This long sweet summer day
Hath power to frame a gentle voice,
And sing in love away.
So from the wood, and from the grass,
And from the shady tree
Words come that like to whispers pass,
Yet all are known to me.
And from the shady tree
Words come that like to whispers pass,
Yet all are known to me.
And smiling as I catch their truth,
I build upon their lore
A world again, and give it youth,
And love, and something more.
I build upon their lore
A world again, and give it youth,
And love, and something more.
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But doubts will warp themselves through all,
And each bright vision rears
A fairy temple but to fall,
And leave me to my tears.
And each bright vision rears
A fairy temple but to fall,
And leave me to my tears.
Now strange that from such dreams should rise
Such shadows to betray
The summer brightness of the skies,
And dull this breathing day.
Such shadows to betray
The summer brightness of the skies,
And dull this breathing day.
Yet I might know that Nature still
Will work and work alone,
And will not blend her perfect skill
With what she must disown.
Will work and work alone,
And will not blend her perfect skill
With what she must disown.
A Song of Labour and Other Poems | ||