University of Virginia Library

Away with time-worn thought! Who gives free space
For inward silence, in some form of tongue
Not wholly secret, not at least unknown,
May hear God speak, and shall that speech to men,
His brothers, by the haste of eager days
Distracted, in due season, if in part,
Interpret. A fair world before me now
Spreads, past indeed most bounds of daily walk,
But yet not more than commonly removed,
And, strong and sweet, God's voice moves over it
In winds which freshen; in the burnish'd sky—
The high, clear sky swept bright by Autumn winds—
His eyes are shining. What if in the South
Some dark clouds roll, and, gather'd in the West
Below great banks, of black, foreboding mien,
Far droop long tendrils down of angry light?
These hold some other mystery of God
Behind them; and a pearl is in the mist
On certain fields before me. At my feet,
O'er all this down, the heath's dark green and rich
Begins to burst with blossom. Now it breaks—
Yes, breaks the sunshine forth; all heaven looks out,
Earth strips all shades to greet me. Like a voice,
The beauty round me calls on every side:
“Awake! Arise!” And broad on farther slopes
The road ascends, while all the loose brown earth
Of fields plough'd newly glows with amber hues.
Fair sleeps the vale between us—pastures rich,
Dark gold of woods. Speech in the winds indeed—
Eyes in the light; but in the still life too
An eloquence of silence, in the holds
Of solemn shadow such a frequent hint
Of high intelligence, on secret things
So wisely brooding; by our doors, our hearts,
On every side the earth puts forth a bridge,
Or lifts a ladder, or a path makes smooth
From less to more, till earth of all the worlds
Is nighest thing to heaven and star to man.

Hereof is looking from the world within,
When something learn'd in silence fills the heart
And finds the kindred message spell'd without.