University of Virginia Library

Oh for wings to follow thee!
Wings to waft, or feet to flee!
Though this film of flesh divide thee
From our eyes, though tempests hide thee,
Though thy form, for ever flying,
Lure us but to leave us dying,
Eyes that strain, and lips that greet,
Hands that cannot clasp, are sweet;
How much sweeter then must be
Wings or feet to follow thee!
Sometimes, as thou mov'st along,
We behold thee, and are strong—
In a young child's happy breath,
In the after-calm of death,
In the love that turns to sweetness
All our spirit's incompleteness,
In remembrance doubly dear
From the unseen sepulchre
Of to-morrow's doubt and fear:
When the crimson cloud-veil riven
Bares the holiest place of heaven,
Where her golden censers shine
In deep vaults of night divine,
When the Spring's o'erflowing blood
Spreads like fire from bough to bud,
E'er our eyes have learn'd the loss
Of her first and virgin gloss,
When the warm wet breezes rust
The rich Autumn's golden dust,
While the shepherd-south-wind grieves
O'er his flocks of fallen leaves
Fed with happier tears, and tended,
And from withering frosts defended—
Then thou beckonest ‘follow me!’
And we have no feet to flee.

Whither should we follow thee,
Spirit of the earth and sea?
Thou art near us, thou art far,
As a flower, or as a star;
For thy tears the morning fill,
And thy foot-prints fire the hill,
And thy voice is on the wind,
But thyself we cannot find.
Like the netted dove that sees
Heaven o'erhead and shadowy trees,
Like to thirst-slain souls that hear
Hidden fountains murmuring near,
Like the flower that silent turns
Sunward, where the morning burns,
Following him, though far above,
With an endless, hopeless love,—
Chain'd to dust we pant for thee,
Yearning to be spirit-free.