Gifts. THE INNER VISION. OST sweet it is with unuplifted eyes To pace the ground, if path there be or none, The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews WORDSWORTH. THE GLORY OF NATURE. F only once the chariot of the morn Had scattered from its wheels the twilight dun, But once the unimaginable sun Flashed godlike through perennial clouds forlorn, If only once blind eyes had seen the Spring, But once had seen the lovely Summer boon The waters dance, the woodlands laugh and sing; If only once deaf ears had heard the joy Of the wild birds, or morning breezes blowing, Or silver fountains from their caverns flowing, Or the deep-voiced rivers rolling by ; Then night eternal fallen from the sky; If only once weird Time had rent asunder The curtain of the clouds, and shown us night Those stairs whose steps are worlds, above and under, The lightnings lit the earthquake on his way; Ah! sure the heart of man, too strongly tried Withering with dread, or sick with love's despair, But he, though heir of Immortality, With mortal dust too feeble for the sight, Draws through a veil God's overwhelming light; Use arms the soul-anon there moveth by A more majestic angel--and we die! FREDERICK TENNYSON. As THE LATTICE AT SUNRISE. S on my bed at dawn I mused and prayed, His lustre pierceth through the midnight glooms; CHARLES TURNER. THE FOREST GLADE. AS, one dark morn, I trod a forest glade, A sunbeam entered at the further end, And ran to meet me through the yielding shade— Just when His morning light came down the path, MAY CAROLS. I. CHARLES Turner. WHO HO feels not, when the Spring once more With winged feet retreads the shore As ordered flower succeeds to flower, From scale to scale, what heart but beats? Some Presence veiled, in fields and groves, That mingles rapture with remorse, Some buried joy beside us moves, And thrills the soul with such discourse As they, perchance, that wondering pair With Paschal chants the churches ring, Their echoes strike along the tombs; The birds their Hallelujahs sing; Each flower with floral incense fumes. Our long-lost Eden seems restored; II. Three worlds there are :-the first of Sense-That sensuous earth which round us lies; The next of Faith's Intelligence; The third of Glory, in the skies. The first is palpable, but base; The second heavenly, but obscure; The third is starlike in the face But ah ! remote that world as pure! |