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Orellana and Other Poems

By J. Logie Robertson

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APOLOGY FOR POESY.
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v

APOLOGY FOR POESY.

Form what far regions of the Infinite
Beyond the solar glow
I have been sent from uncreated light,
And why to this dim borderland of Night,
My Lord, I do not know.
But Thou art wise; and in my mortal sphere,
Pent in this prison tower,
Blown to me from my spirit-home I hear,
Sounding, now faint and far, now near and clear,
Harmonies every hour.
The sun goes surging up the East in song;
The moon in muffled strain
Repeats the pæan, whispering it among
The choral stars, that listen and prolong,
And cease and sing again.

vi

Ocean all through his many-chambered seas,
The seas through all their bays,
Rivers and rills, forests with all their trees,
Tempest, and thunder, and the wandering breeze,
My God, proclaim Thy praise.
—And oft when midnight buries vale and hill,
Loosening its music free,
My heart instinctive sings, as sea-shells will,
Though inland carried far, faithfully still
Echo their parent sea.
These are of Thee—these broken harmonies,
That wander from Thy lyre
Like wind-blown blossoms of the Hesperides,
Or spray sun-kissed to golden irises
And twists of coloured fire.
I hear and thrill;—not as the soulless cliff
Deaf to the vocal sea,
But answering to the joy like dancing skiff:
—God of all Harmony! forgive me if
I dare to answer Thee!