I will have hopes that cannot fade, I will have humble thoughts instead My spirit and my God shall be My sea-ward hill, my boundless sea. THE SEA-MEW. How joyously the young sea-mew Familiar with the waves and free And such a brightness in his eye We were not cruel, yet did sunder His white wing from the blue waves under, Shone up to ours in calm surprise, We bore our ocean bird unto The flowers that curtsey to the bees, But flowers of earth were pale to him The green trees round him only made Then One her gladsome face did bring, In ocean's stead his heart to move And teach him what was human love: He thought it a strange mournful thing. He lay down in his grief to die, THE SLEEP. Of all the thoughts of God that are For gift or grace surpassing this- What would we give to our beloved? What do we give to our beloved? And bitter memories to make The whole earth blasted for our sake: "Sleep soft, beloved! we sometimes say Who have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep : Shall break the happy slumber when O earth, so full of dreary noises! His dews drop mutely on the hill, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, He giveth His beloved, sleep. Ay, men may wonder while they scan Confirmed in such a rest to keep; For me, my heart that erst did go That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would childlike on His love repose And friends, dear friends, when it shall be COWPER'S GRAVE. It is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying; It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying: Yet let the grief and humbleness as low as silence languish : Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her anguish. O poets, from a maniac's tongue was poured the deathless singing! O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand was clinging! O men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths beguiling, Groaned inly while he taught you peace, and died while ye were smiling! And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story, How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory, And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face because so brokenhearted, He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation, And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker adora tion; Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken, Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath taken. With quiet sadness and no gloom I learn to think upon him, With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose heaven hath won him, Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own love to blind him, But gently led the blind along where breath and bird could find him ; And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic senses As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences: |