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57
TO ONE WHO REJOICES.
Dear heart, our souls, in holiday with thee,
Learn more than all their workingtime can teach;
And, bowed to thy sweet will and pleasure, reach
A little of the freedom of the free.
Thou canst the thread of heavenly melody
Discern in well-nigh inarticulate speech,
And thine anointed eyes can see in each
And every thing what Love would have us see.
Learn more than all their workingtime can teach;
And, bowed to thy sweet will and pleasure, reach
A little of the freedom of the free.
Thou canst the thread of heavenly melody
Discern in well-nigh inarticulate speech,
And thine anointed eyes can see in each
And every thing what Love would have us see.
Oh, blind and deaf and dumb, our way we have gone,
And missed the rapture of everlasting hills,
And missed the rhythm of ocean and of home,
And the delight of whisperings and thrills
Of sunlit leaves that shower have rained upon;
And sweetness more than honey and honeycomb.
And missed the rapture of everlasting hills,
And missed the rhythm of ocean and of home,
And the delight of whisperings and thrills
Of sunlit leaves that shower have rained upon;
And sweetness more than honey and honeycomb.
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