The unbounded might of prayer; and learned, with soul Fixed on the Cross, that consolation springs, From sources deeper far than deepest pain, For the meek sufferer. Why then should we read 940 The forms of things with an unworthy eye? She sleeps in the calm earth, and peace is here. I well remember that those very plumes, Those weeds, and the high spear-grass on that wall, By mist and silent rain-drops silvered o'er, 945 As once I passed, into my heart conveyed So still an image of tranquillity, So calm and still, and looked so beautiful Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind, That what we feel of sorrow and despair 950 From ruin and from change, and all the grief That passing shows of being leave behind, Appeared an idle dream, that could main Together visited. Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises; Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; 5 Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine. Eyes of some men travel far 10 For the finding of a star; Up and down the heavens they go, Modest, yet withal an Elf Since we needs must first have met 20 I have seen thee, high and low, Thirty years or more, and yet 'Twas a face I did not know; Thou hast now, go where I may, Fifty greetings in a day. 25 Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the thrush Has a thought about her nest, Thou wilt come with half a call, Spreading out thy glossy breast 30 Like a careless Prodigal; Telling tales about the sun, When we've little warmth, or none. Poets, vain men in their mood! 35 Never heed them; I aver That they all are wanton wooers; But the thrifty cottager, Who stirs little out of doors, Joys to spy thee near her home; 40 Spring is coming, thou art come! Comfort have thou of thy merit, Kindly, unassuming Spirit! Careless of thy neighborhood, Thou dost show thy pleasant face 45 On the moor, and in the wood, In the lane; there's not a place, Howsoever mean it be, But 'tis good enough for thee. Ill befall the yellow flowers, Prophet of delight and mirth, .TO THE SAME FLOWER Pleasures newly found are sweet First at sight of thee was glad; 5 All unheard of as thou art, Thou must needs, I think, have had, I have not a doubt but he, 20 Soon as gentle breezes bring And the children build their bowers, 25 Often have I sighed to measure 30 Blithe of heart, from week to week Thou dost play at hide-and-seek; 35 While the patient primrose sits 1 Plots of the size of a handkerchief. Like a beggar in the cold, Drawn by what peculiar spell, Thou art not beyond the moon, 55 If there be but three or four Who will love my little Flower. Earth has not anything to show more fair: Open unto the fields, and to the sky; Never did sun more beautifully steep 10 In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still! |