 | Through the Gateway |  |
19
THE EREMITE.
O poets, when ye walk alone
Where Nature's face is fair,
Seek not the mirror of your own
Imaginations there!
Where Nature's face is fair,
Seek not the mirror of your own
Imaginations there!
Thou lover-minstrel 'neath the moon,
Listening the nightingale,
Take not that hour of heavenly boon
To heighten thy love-tale!
Listening the nightingale,
Take not that hour of heavenly boon
To heighten thy love-tale!
The sea-wind in the woods of pine,
hath it no mysteries
More deep than some light grief of thine,
Thy self-consoling sighs?
hath it no mysteries
More deep than some light grief of thine,
Thy self-consoling sighs?
The dream-world spread beneath the hill,
The snow-towers touching heaven,
Have they for thee no finer thrill
Than a girl's love hath given?
The snow-towers touching heaven,
Have they for thee no finer thrill
Than a girl's love hath given?
Go, poet, forth by field and stream,
Lone mountain, desert sea;
Wait for the touch of God, the gleam,
The hour of ecstacy!
Lone mountain, desert sea;
Wait for the touch of God, the gleam,
The hour of ecstacy!
20
It may be in the lonely ways
Large utterance shall come;
It may be that the vision's daze
Shall leave the sëer dumb.
Large utterance shall come;
It may be that the vision's daze
Shall leave the sëer dumb.
But he to whom the master-key
Of Eden is allowed,
How should he murmur, though not he
May open to the crowd?
Of Eden is allowed,
How should he murmur, though not he
May open to the crowd?
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