Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling rustic tend his plow Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den; O miserable chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; ELEGIAC STANZAS Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle, in a Storm, Painted by Sir George Beaumont I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged Pile! Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee: I saw thee every day; and all the while So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! It trembled, but it never passed away How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep; No mood, which season takes away, or brings: I could have fancied that the mighty Deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things. Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;- Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, Such Picture would I at that time have made: And seen the soul of truth in every part, A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed. So once it would have been,-'tis so no more; I have submitted to a new control: serene. Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend, If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore, This work of thine I blame not, but commend; This sea in anger, and that dismal shore. O'tis a passionate Work!-yet wise and well, Well chosen is the spirit that is here; That Hulk which labors in the deadly swell, This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear! And this huge Castle, standing here sublime, I love to see the look with which it braves, Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time, The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, Such happiness, wherever it be known, But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. ODE TO DUTY Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! There are who ask not if thine eye Serene will be our days and bright And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried, Through no disturbance of my soul, Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear Thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! THE MOUNTAIN ECHO Yes, it was the mountain Echo, Solitary, clear, profound, Answering to the shouting Cuckoo, Giving to her sound for sound! Unsolicited reply To a babbling wanderer sent; Hears not also mortal Life? Hear not we, unthinking Creatures! Again that consummation she essayed; "Protesiláus, lo! thy guide is gone! Not to appal me have the gods bestowed 35 This precious boon; and blest a sad abode." pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, "T is he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, 30 35 |