Sunset streaming o'er the river Beams of gorgeous coloured light, Arrows from Apollo's quiver, Dazzling the enchanted sight; Floods of purple, gold, and crimson, Paint the vale with glowing hues; And the river slowly swims on, Loth the lovely scene to lose; And the Poet lifts his voice Rapturously to Heaven's God,— And he kneels him to rejoice, Kneels him on the lowly sod. Every creature in the fields, Every bird among the trees, To the soothing influence yields; Nought is stirring save the breeze,— And the Poet's voice, uprising, Still and calm, amid that scene, To the good God sacrificing, 'Neath the lovely sky serene. Yet not all,—a thankful murmur, Breathing seemed upon the air, Made the Poet's thanksgiving firmer, As he thought of others there; Beings higher, better, brighter, Hidden from all mortal view,— And the Poet's heart grew lighter, And his prayer more fervent grew. Seemed the bright sky brighter glowing, As his prayer to Heaven upfled, Hues of glorious radiance throwing Round the kneeling Poet's head. Does the Poet's vision flout him? Can he trust his wondering eyes? Lo, on all sides round about him Myriad fairy forms arise! Clothed in robes of glittering dye, Mantled in the sun's bright beams, Round the Poet's head they fly, Lovelier than his loveliest dreams! Strains of heavenly music fall From the bright angelic choir, Scatters now the Poet's thrall, And awakes his wonted fire; And he lifts his voice to heaven, And he cries "Oh God of Light! 'Grant that unto me be given "Oft to see these beings bright!" Scarce he'd spoken when a sprite, Messenger of heavenly birth, Fanned the Poet in his might, Laid him powerless on the earth. Now a myriad tinkling voices Wrap his soul in melody, And the murmuring wind rejoices, Joining in the harmony; And the numbers musical Pierce his inmost soul and heart, Seeming to pervade his all, Penetrating every part. So at midnight's stilly hour, When heaven gleams with myriad eyes, Inwardly you feel their power, Wondrous thoughts and deep arise; Thus entranced the Poet lay, While, above him in the sky, Fairy nymph and forest fay Scattered jewels from on high. Marvellous gems of lustre rare. Such as never man might see, Showered upon the Poet there, In all their native purity. Mortal language cannot tell The sweetness of that harmony, But the precious gems that fell Here are strung in unity:— "'Neath the cool green shades of the forest glades, "When the evening sun goes down, "How sweet to sit, while the blithe birds flit "Round the birch tree's hoary crown, "And the summer wind, like poet's mind, "A heavenly calm diffuses, "Around it throws, where e'er it goes, "An influence nought refuses: "When nature bends to him who sends "The sunset and the breeze, "In those fair hours seek thou our bowers, "Under the greenwood trees; "In summer time, at evening chime, "When the skies are filled with glory,— "What there thou see'st, sweet Nature's priest, "Will tell a living story! "All willingly, fulfillingly "Of this our promise made, "No more concealed, to thee revealed, "We'll haunt the forest glade! And the voices, far retreating, Faintly came upon the breeze, And the sunset too was fleeting,— Mourned the wind among the trees. As the Poet homeward wends him, Far from other men apart, He to God Almighty bends him, Thanks Him from a swelling heart. And the Poet, ne'er forgetting, Ever now in summer time, 'Neath the forest's Gothic fretting, Waits the hour of evening chime. And the spirits, in revealings Of the Beautiful and Good, Steep his heart in glorious feelings, Underneath that lonely wood! O'er his life new wisdom growing, Like a Paradisean rill, Ever sparkling, ever flowing, All his soul and mind doth fill! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEOPLE'S SURROUNDINGS by MARIANNE MOORE IN ROMNEY MARSH by JOHN DAVIDSON TO DAFFODILS by ROBERT HERRICK UPON JULIA'S BREASTS by ROBERT HERRICK THE MARTYRS OF THE MAINE by RUPERT HUGHES TO-NIGHT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON |