A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard Will no one tell me what she sings? Or is it some more humble lay, Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang ODE TO DUTY STERN Daughter of the Voice of God! Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe; From vain temptations dost set free; And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity : There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright, And they a blissful course may hold Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried: Too blindly have reposed my trust: The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I feel the weight of chance-desires : Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! 6.6374 Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give; And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live! 1805. TO A SKY-LARK UP with me! up with me into the clouds! Up with me, up with me into the clouds! With clouds and sky about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to thy mind! I have walk'd through wildernesses dreary Had I now the wings of a Faery, Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine In that song of thine; Lift me, guide me high and high To thy banqueting-place in the sky. Joyous as morning Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, Drunken Lark! thou would'st be loth To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain river Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven, As full of gladness and as free of heaven, I, with my fate contented, will plod on, And hope for higher raptures, when life's day is done. 1805. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, While I am lying on the grass From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, The same whom in my school-boy days Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessed Bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee! THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS WE walk'd along, while bright and red And Matthew stopp'd, he look'd, and said "The will of God be done!" A village schoolmaster was he, As blithe a man as you could see On a spring holiday. And on that morning, through the grass And by the steaming rills We travell'd merrily, to pass A day among the hills. "Our work," said I, "was well begun : Then, from thy breast what thought, So sad a sigh has brought?" A second time did Matthew stop; And fixing still his eye Upon the eastern mountain-top, To me he made reply: "Yon cloud with that long purple cleft Brings fresh into my mind A day like this, which I have left Full thirty years behind. "And just above yon slope of corn Such colours, and no other, Were in the sky that April morn Of this the very brother. "With rod and line I sued the sport Which that sweet season gave, And coming to the church, stopp'd short Beside my daughter's grave. |