II.

TO THE SKY.

Far from the rustlings of the poplar bough,
Which o'er my opening life wild music made,
Far from the green hills with their heathery glow
And flashing streams whereby my childhood play'd;
In the dim city, midst the sounding flow

Of restless life, to thee in love I turn

O thou rich sky! and from thy splendours learn
How song-birds come and part, flowers wane and blow.
With thee all shapes of glory find their home,
And thou hast taught me well, majestic Dome!
By stars, by sunsets, by soft clouds which rove
Thy blue expanse, or sleep in silvery rest,
That Nature's God hath left no spot unbless'd

With founts of beauty for the eye of love.

III.

ON WATCHING THE FLIGHT OF A SKY-LARK.

Upward and upward still!-in pearly light
The clouds are steeped; the vernal spirit sighs
With bliss in every wind, and crystal skies

Woo thee, O Birds! to thy celestial height;
Bird piercing Heaven with music! thy free flight

Hath meaning for all bosoms; most of all
For those wherein the rapture and the might
Of poesy lie deep, and strive, and burn,

For their high place: O Heirs of Genius! learn
From the sky's bird your way!-No joy may fill
Your hearts, no gift of holy strength be won
To bless your songs, ye Children of the Sun!
Save by the unswerving flight-upward and upward

still!

ON RECORDS OF IMMATURE GENIUS.

IV.

ON RECORDS OF IMMATURE GENIUS.

31

Oh! judge in thoughtful tenderness of those,

Who, richly dowered for life, are called to die,
Ere the soul's flame, through storms, hath won repose
In truth's divinest ether, still and high!

Let their mind's riches claim a trustful sigh!

Deem them but sad sweet fragments of a strain,
First notes of some yet struggling harmony,

By the strong rush, the crowding joy and pain
Of many inspirations met, and held

From its true sphere :-Oh! soon it might have swelled

Majestically forth!-Nor doubt, that He

Whose touch mysterious may on earth dissolve
Those links of music, elsewhere will evolve

Their grand consummate hymn, from passion-gusts made free!

V.

A THOUGHT OF THE SEA.

My earliest memories to thy shores are bound,
Thy solemn shores, thou ever-chaunting main!
The first rich sunsets, kindling thought profound
In my lone being, made thy restless plain

As the vast shining floor of some dread fane,

All paved with glass and fire. Yet, O blue deep!
Thou that no trace of human hearts dost keep,
Never to thee did love with silvery chain

Draw my soul's dream, which thro' all nature sought
What waves deny ;- -some bower of stedfast bliss,
A home to twine with fancy, feeling, thought,

As with sweet flowers :-But chastened hope for this
Now turns from earth's green valleys, as from thee,
To that sole changeless world, where "there is no

more sea."

DISTANT SOUND OF THE SEA AT EVENING, 33

VI.

DISTANT SOUND OF THE SEA AT EVENING.

Yet, rolling far up some green mountain dale,
Oft let me hear, as oft-times I have heard,

Thy swell, thou deep! when evening calls the bird,
And bee to rest; when summer tints grow pale,

Seen through the gathering of a dewy veil,

And peasant steps are hastening to repose,

And gleaming flocks lie down, and flower-cups close To the last whisper of the falling gale.

Then, 'midst the dying of all other sound,

When the soul hears thy distant voice profound, Lone-worshipping, and knows that through the night 'Twill worship still, then most its anthem tone Speaks to our being of the Eternal One,

Who girds tired nature with unslumbering might.

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