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Eight springs have flown, since last I lay On sea ward Quantock's heathy hills, Where quiet sounds from hidden rills Float here and there, like things astray, And high o'er head the sky-lark shrills.
No voice as yet had made the air
As when a mother doth explore
You stood before me like a thought,
A dream remembered in a dream.
But when those meek eyes first did seem To tell me, Love within you wrought— O Greta, dear domestic stream!
Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep,
Has not Love's whisper evermore Been ceaseless, as thy gentle roar? Sole voice, when other voices sleep, Dear under-song in clamor's hour.
ON REVISITING THE SEA-SHORE, AFTER LONG ABSENCE, UNDER STRONG MEDICAL RECOMMENDATION NOT TO BATHE.
God be with thee, gladsome Ocean!
Dissuading spake the mild physician, "Those briny waves for thee are death!"
my soul fulfilled her mission,
And lo! I breathe untroubled breath!
Fashion's pining sons and daughters,
Me a thousand hopes and pleasures,
Dreams, (the soul herself forsaking,) Tearful raptures, boyish mirth; Silent adorations, making
A blessed shadow of this Earth!
O ye hopes, that stir within me, Health comes with you from above! God is with me, God is in me !
I cannot die, if Life be Love.
III. MEDITATIVE POEMS.
IN BLANK VERSE.
YEA, he deserves to find himself deceived,
BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.
BESIDES the Rivers, Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources in the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides; and within a few paces of the Glaciers, the Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers, with its "flowers of loveliest blue."
HAST thou a charm to stay the morning-star
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form!
How silently! Around thee and above
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black,
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it,
O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee,
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,
Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy:
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven!
Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my Heart, awake! Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the Vale! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink : Companion of the morning-star at dawn,
Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn