My God, I heard this day That none doth build a stately habitation But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is Man, to whose creation All things are in decay? For Man is every thing, And more: he is a tree, yet bears no fruit; Man is all symmetrie Full of proportions, one limb to another, Each part may call the farthest brother; For head with foot hath private amitie, And both with moons and tides. Nothing hath got so farre But Man hath caught and kept it as his prey. Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they For us the winds do blow, The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. Nothing we see but means our good, The starres have us to bed Night draws the curtain, which the sunne withdraws. Musick and light attend our head; In their descent and being-to our minde Each thing is full of dutie: Waters united are our navigation-Distinguished, our habitation; Below, our drink-above, our meat; Both are our cleanlinesse. Hath one such¦ beautie? Then how are all things neat! More servants wait on Man Than he 'll take notice of. In every path He treads down that which doth befriend him When sicknesse makes him pale and wan. O mightie love! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him. Since then, my God, Thou hast So brave a palace built, O dwell in it, That it may dwell with Thee at last! Till then afford us so much wit That, as the world serves us, we may serve Thee, And both Thy servants be. GEORGE HERBERT HEAVENLY WISDOM. O HAPPY is the man who hears Instruction's warning voice, And who celestial Wisdom makes His early, only choice; For she has treasures greater far In her right hand she holds to view She guides the young, with innocence, Yet where our duty's task is wrought In unison with God's great thought, The near and future blend in one, And whatsoe'er is willed is done! And ours the grateful service whence Comes, day by day, the recompenseThe hope, the trust, the purpose staid, The fountain, and the noonday shade. And were this life the utmost span, Our life, though falling like our grain, Like that revives and springs again; And early called, how blest are they THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, Apparelled in celestial lightThe glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore: Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen, I now can see no more. II. The rainbow comes and goes, The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. III. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, To me alone there came a thought of grief; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong. I hear the echoes through the mountains throng; The winds come to me from the fields of sleep. Land and sea Who wait in heaven their harvest-day! Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. happy shepherd boy! IV. Ye blessed creatures! I have heard the call My head hath its coronal The fulness of your bliss, I feel, I feel it all. And the children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, warm, Doth the same tale repeat. Whither is fled the visionary gleam? V. Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; And cometh from afar. But trailing clouds of glory, do we come Heaven lies about us in our infancy! And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. VII. Behold the child among his new-born blisses- And this hath now his heart, Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part- stage" With all the persons, down to palsied age, VIII. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep But he beholds the light, and whence it That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep flows He sees it in his joy. The youth, who daily farther from the east At length the man perceives it die away, VI. Haunted for ever by the eternal mind!— On whom those truths do rest Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own. ODE. Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight IX. O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not, indeed, For that which is most worthy to be blest- Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings But for those first affections, Uphold us, cherish, and have power to Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never— Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Hence in a season of calm weather, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Can in a moment travel thither, more. X. 697 Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day What though the radiance which was once sc bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower We will grieve not, rather find Which, having been, must ever be; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. XI. And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! To live beneath your more habitual sway. Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born day The clouds that gather round the setting sun won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears— To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. WILLIAM WORDSWORTII |