O Joys! infinite sweetness! with what flowers And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds! All the long hours Of night and rest Through the still shrouds Of sleep and clouds, This dew fell on my breast. Oh, how it bloods And spirits all my earth! hark! in what rings And hymning circulations the quick world Awakes and sings! The rising winds, And falling springs, Birds, beasts, all things Adore Him in their kinds. Thus all is hurled In sacred hymns and order; the great chime And symphony of Nature. Prayer is The world in tune, A spirit-voice, And vocal joys, Whose echo is Heaven's bliss. Oh, let me climb When I lie down! the Pious soul by night Is like a clouded star, whose beams, though said To shed their light Under some cloud, Yet are above, And shine and move Beyond that misty shroud. So in my bed, That curtained grave, though sleep like ashes hide My lamp and life, both shall in Thee abide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 2. ILLINOIS by CLARENCE MAJOR CHARLES CARVILLE'S EYES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A MOTHER TO HER WAKING INFANT by JOANNA BAILLIE THE CELLO by RICHARD WATSON GILDER THE NAME OF JESUS by JOHN NEWTON FOREIGN CHILDREN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON CAMPS OF GREEN by WALT WHITMAN TO WALTER LIONEL DE ROTHSCHILD ON HIS BAR-MITZVAH by LOUIS BARNETT ABRAHAMS THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: COMPENSATION by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |