 | The soul's legend |  |
28
INTIMATIONS.
(1871.)
Now that I near the land
Of blessedness, all mute
Things unbeloved, with bland
And loving looks, salute
My gaze; methinks the brute
Puts on an aspect grand.
Of blessedness, all mute
Things unbeloved, with bland
And loving looks, salute
My gaze; methinks the brute
Puts on an aspect grand.
My spirit hand in hand
With life moves on, down alleys broad and green.
What forms are these that flit the boughs between?
All things together stand
At once in flower and fruit;
The flower in air takes wing,
The soul in earth takes root,
And spreads and pastures like a harmless thing
That crops the herb in presence of its king.
With life moves on, down alleys broad and green.
What forms are these that flit the boughs between?
All things together stand
At once in flower and fruit;
The flower in air takes wing,
The soul in earth takes root,
And spreads and pastures like a harmless thing
That crops the herb in presence of its king.
29
Is this a bird that sings
Within the wood's dim heart, or flower that yields
Her soul unto the sun? I know not! fields,
Woods, lanes overflow with subtle sound and scent;
A murmur as of winds, and leaves, and wings,
And the keen odour of the pine-bough blent
With the warm lilac's tender ravishment.
Within the wood's dim heart, or flower that yields
Her soul unto the sun? I know not! fields,
Woods, lanes overflow with subtle sound and scent;
A murmur as of winds, and leaves, and wings,
And the keen odour of the pine-bough blent
With the warm lilac's tender ravishment.
Is't morn or ev'ning? Spring
Or autumn lingering?
Is't listening now, or speech?
All things in easy reach
Together lie, and Nature stands at gaze
On inner joy intent,
With lifted finger bent,
To warn or beckon, in her sweet amaze
Of calm astonishment;
As when a skilled musician, well content
To catch the plausive murmur round him, gleans
The harvest of the moment, while he leans
O'er his loved instrument.
Or autumn lingering?
Is't listening now, or speech?
All things in easy reach
Together lie, and Nature stands at gaze
On inner joy intent,
With lifted finger bent,
To warn or beckon, in her sweet amaze
Of calm astonishment;
As when a skilled musician, well content
To catch the plausive murmur round him, gleans
The harvest of the moment, while he leans
O'er his loved instrument.
30
No more I seek in part
To know or prophesy;
Unto a mighty heart
Drawn close, the worlds flit by.
The part breathes through the whole,
Life kindles in the clod,
And Nature wins her soul,
And earth its God!
To know or prophesy;
Unto a mighty heart
Drawn close, the worlds flit by.
The part breathes through the whole,
Life kindles in the clod,
And Nature wins her soul,
And earth its God!
| The soul's legend | |