Alone I sat; the summer day Had died in smiling light away; I saw it die, I watched it fade From misty hill and breezeless glade; And thoughts in my soul were gushing, And my heart bowed beneath their power; And tears within my eyes were rushing Because I could not speak the feeling, The solemn joy around me stealing In that divine, untroubled hour. I asked myself, "O why has heaven Denied the precious gift to me, The glorious gift to many given To speak their thoughts in poetry? "Dreams have encircled me," I said, "From careless childhood's sunny time; Visions by ardent fancy fed Since life was in its morning prime." But now, when I had hoped to sing, My fingers strike a tuneless string; And still the burden of the strain Is "Strive no more; 'tis all in vain." |