The ripened nectar of delicious sounds,
The social haunt--the lonely quiet hour;
The Hopes embodying innocent and gay
As those of Childhood, whose soft footstep past
Not long before, not yet forgotten, by!
The letter, dearest, blotted with thy tears,
In answer to a caution--fear--express'd
By much too strongly--often gives my heart
A secret pang--but of remorse for nought
But paining thee--too tender to endure
The thought that self-indulgence, or neglect,
Causing increas'd disquietude and care,
Might, by increased disquietude and care,
Open the grave for him who gave thee birth!
How often and how warmly did'st thou ask,
With epithets of fondness, how I dar'd
Imagine such a horror, and to one
Present, who would have died, or borne extremes
Of any hard endurance, not to give
The slightest anguish to a parent's breast!
Alas! the cruel rashness of reproof--
The busy vigilance of human pride--
Like a too eager partizan, may strike,
To ward off danger from his chieftain's head,
A fellow soldier zealous in the cause!
As of this world, this visible, wide world,
This earth, with all its forests, all its plants,
All its deep mines, its rivers, and its seas,
Yea! all that breathes, and moves, and clings to life
By any subtler impulse, which eludes
Our blunted observation:--as of this,
All that appears and all that is, so much
Remains, in scorn of science, unexplor'd;
So, in the not less wond'rous moral world,
The innermost recesses of the mind,
We see as little; save, Phoenician like,
By petty trade and parley on its coasts,
Talk by interpreters, impatient guess,
Or careless resting in incertitude,
At meanings in a tongue almost unknown;
Or so corrupted by this intercourse,
That all its native harmony is lost,
Its irresistible persuasions o'er!
The clearness and the sweetness of its tones,
Its loftiness, simplicity and truth.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39