But in this rural life, mid nature's forms Of grandeur and of beauty, why assume That Harry Hastings had no inward joy Of sentiment, and conscience-cherish'd thought? When splendour of internal structure warms The bosom's lighted mirrors, which allume The soul's recesses, spirits then employ Their skill in webs with mingled figures wrought. Part from within of heavenly elements, They add to what external sense supplies; Then mind and conscience give their pure assents, And airy shapes start up, and visions rise; And though the fancies pass unspelt away, Perchance they form the sunshine of the day! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOCIOLOGY OF TOYOTAS AND JADE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by HAYDEN CARRUTH LENTEN GREETING; TO A LADY by GEORGE SANTAYANA APOLLO AT LAX by KAREN SWENSON APRIL'S LAMBS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE CHURCH WINDOWS by GEORGE HERBERT THE NEED FOR MEN by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND |