FROM yon fair hill, whose woody crest The mantling hand of spring has dressed, Where gales imbibe the May-perfume, And strew the blushing almond's bloom, I view the verdant plains below, And lucid streams which gently flow; The opening foliage, drenched with showers, Weeps o'er the odorous vernal flowers; And while before my tempered eye From glancing clouds swift shadows fly, While nature seems serene and blessed, And inward concord tunes my breast, I sigh for those by fortune crossed, Whose souls to Nature's charms are lost. Whether by love of wealth betrayed, Absorbed in all the arts of trade, Or deep engrossed in mighty schemes, Tossed in ambition's empty dreams, vOr proud amid the learned schools, Stiffened by dull pedantic rules, Or those who ne'er from forms depart, The slaves of fashion and of art. O! lost to bliss! the pregnant air, The rising sun, the ripening year, The embrios that on every bush 'Midst the wild notes of songsters blush; The violet's scent, the varying hues Which morn's light ray strikes 'mid the dews, To them are lost -- Involved in care, They cannot feel, they cannot share. I grieve, when round I cast my eyes, And feel a thousand pleasures rise, That this fair earth, by Heaven bestowed, (Which human fury stains with blood) Should teem with joys which reach the heart, And man be thus absorbed in art. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: HOME TO FARGO by KAREN SWENSON THE FALCONER OF GOD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE SPIRIT OF POETRY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DIRGE FOR THE LATE JAMES CURRIE, M.D., OF LIVERPOOL by LUCY AIKEN SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 14. 'I LOVE THEE' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |