There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of yon sky, But hath its own winged mariners to give it melody: Thou see'st their glittering fans outspread all gleaming like red gold, And hark! with shrill pipe musical, their merry course they hold. God bless them all, these little ones, who far above this earth, Can make a scoff of its mean joys, and vent a nobler mirth. But soft! mine ear upcaught a sound, from yonder wood it came! The spirit of the dim green glade did breathe his Yes, it is he! the hermit bird, that apart from all his kind, Slow spells his beads monotonous to the soft western wind; Cuckoo! Cuckoo! he sings again, - his notes are void of art, But simplest strains do soonest sound the deep founts of the heart! Good Lord! it is a gracious boon for thought-crazed wight like me, To smell again these summer flowers beneath this summer tree! To suck once more in every breath their little souls away, And feed my fancy with fond dreams of youth's bright summer day, When, rushing forth like untamed colt, the reckless truant boy, Wandered through green woods all day long, a mighty heart of joy! I'm sadder now, I have had cause; but O! I'm proud to think That each pure joy-fount loved of yore, I yet delight to drink; Leaf, blossom, blade, hill, valley, stream, the calm unclouded sky, Still mingle music with my dreams, as in the days gone by. When summer's loveliness and light fall round me dark and cold, I'll bear indeed life's heaviest curse, a heart that hath waxed old! CHANGE SWEEPETH OVER ALL. CHANGE Sweepeth over all! In showers leaves fall From the tall forest tree; On to the sea Majestic rivers roll. It is their goal. Each speeds to perish in man's simple seeming, - One common end o'ertakes life's idle dreaming, Day hurries to its close: A miracle of light, Yieldeth to night; The skirt of one vast pall O'ershadows all, Yon firmamental cresset lights forth shining, Heaven's highest born! Droop on their thrones, and, like pale spirits pining, Vanish with morn. O'er cities of old days, Dumb creatures graze; Palace and pyramid In dust are hid; Yea, the sky-searching tower Stands but its hour. Oceans their wide-stretched beds are ever shifting, Sea turns to shore, And stars and systems through dread space are drifting, To shine no more. Names perish that erst smote Nations remote, With panic, fear, or wrong; Heroic song Grapples with time in vain; On to the main Of dim forgetfulness for ever rolling, Earth's bubbles burst; Time o'er the wreck of ages sternly tolling The world is waxing old, Heaven dull and cold; |