 | Sursum Corda |  |
55
IN FIRLE PARK.
I found a fairy-land to-day,
A wonder-world, not far away.
I crossed no seas, I climbed no heights,
I spent no tedious days nor nights;
I came not to it in my dreams,
Nor fancies born of morning beams;
I trod the earth, I breathed the air,
The known fields were my neighbours there;
Yet such a hallowed place I found,
Islanded from the world around.
A wonder-world, not far away.
I crossed no seas, I climbed no heights,
I spent no tedious days nor nights;
I came not to it in my dreams,
Nor fancies born of morning beams;
I trod the earth, I breathed the air,
The known fields were my neighbours there;
Yet such a hallowed place I found,
Islanded from the world around.
The trees o'erarch from either side
A moss-grown path, not overwide,
Its windings seen a little space,
Then lost in boughs that interlace.
Soon as I saw I owned the spell,
My feet in quiet reverence fell.
For there were mosses and long grass
Catching at sunbeams as they pass,
And many leaves new woke to earth,
Green from their fresh and dewy birth.
A moss-grown path, not overwide,
Its windings seen a little space,
Then lost in boughs that interlace.
56
My feet in quiet reverence fell.
For there were mosses and long grass
Catching at sunbeams as they pass,
And many leaves new woke to earth,
Green from their fresh and dewy birth.
But oh, that I could tell the sight
That flooded all my soul with light,
Where, 'mid green leaves luxuriant, grew
Violets, a hundred eyes of blue!
Each cluster seemed a fairy band,
Each nest of leaves a fairy land;
And all the air was odorous
With joy no words can tell to us,
With every unimagined thing
We dream of in the days of spring.
That flooded all my soul with light,
Where, 'mid green leaves luxuriant, grew
Violets, a hundred eyes of blue!
Each cluster seemed a fairy band,
Each nest of leaves a fairy land;
And all the air was odorous
With joy no words can tell to us,
With every unimagined thing
We dream of in the days of spring.
Alas! how small a boon are words
By the wild raptures of the birds!
Had I a blackbird's song, perchance
Ev'n I might make your spirits dance,
Your souls be thrilled a little space
With my sweet memories of that place.
Now with weak words I strive in vain;
Into my breast they turn again.
And, all unwillingly, my heart
Feeds on her heavenly joy apart.
By the wild raptures of the birds!
57
Ev'n I might make your spirits dance,
Your souls be thrilled a little space
With my sweet memories of that place.
Now with weak words I strive in vain;
Into my breast they turn again.
And, all unwillingly, my heart
Feeds on her heavenly joy apart.
| Sursum Corda | |