Words by the Wayside By James Rhoades |
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“O Fortunatos Nimium, Sua si Bona Nôrint!” |
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 | Words by the Wayside |  |
27
“O Fortunatos Nimium, Sua si Bona Nôrint!”
There's a fountain in a valley that I know
Where the waters lisp a secret as they flow,
And the hart's-tongue lolling from its cavern-cell
Hath the secret on its tip, but may not tell.
Where the waters lisp a secret as they flow,
And the hart's-tongue lolling from its cavern-cell
Hath the secret on its tip, but may not tell.
Past the skill of earth to utter, man to guess,
The hid wisdom which to know were happiness:
But at times there needs no telling; everywhere
It besets us and embraceth as the air.
The hid wisdom which to know were happiness:
But at times there needs no telling; everywhere
It besets us and embraceth as the air.
All that valley side is full of it: the breeze
Wafts the burden as it filters through the trees,
And you bruise it from the bracken, and its scent
In the heather, as you breathe it, is content:
Wafts the burden as it filters through the trees,
And you bruise it from the bracken, and its scent
In the heather, as you breathe it, is content:
And the peace of God descending on the soul—
Every discord hushed in one harmonious whole—
Whispers “Love shall be for ever, death's dark strife
But an eye-wink of the sleepless lids of life.”
Every discord hushed in one harmonious whole—
Whispers “Love shall be for ever, death's dark strife
But an eye-wink of the sleepless lids of life.”
Happy fountain! happy valley! happy folk,
If their heart to its own happiness awoke—
Rose to rapture from mere ignorance of ill!
Yet the spirit of the stream is with them still:
If their heart to its own happiness awoke—
Rose to rapture from mere ignorance of ill!
Yet the spirit of the stream is with them still:
There's a ripple in their laughter as they go,
There's a dancing in their eyes, and well I know
Though they carol not, O stream, it needs must be
There is music in their heart who dwell by thee.
There's a dancing in their eyes, and well I know
Though they carol not, O stream, it needs must be
There is music in their heart who dwell by thee.
| Words by the Wayside | |