 | Touches on The Harp of Nature |  |
ON LOVING.
Have something still to love, e'en tho' it beNaught but a flower: yea, the worm below
Thy feet itself—for Love and Hope are so
Twinn'd with each other, closely join'd as the
Two rosebuds on one stalk, that still where we
First love, there, too, we hope; and these, you know,
Are the springheads of being, whence must flow
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All things with love, that is the highest good:
Yea, all in one! it is the microscope,
With which new worlds of beauty we may ope,
E'en in the smallest thing that round us lies;
And yet the telescope, with which to show
Glories beyond the stars, and open throw
The gates of heaven! for where love is, what should
There not be also? Love can grasp the skies!
And he who simply loves has all he could
Of bliss, in each of its varieties;
Lo! in how small a space, all Paradise!
| Touches on The Harp of Nature | |