A gallery of famous English and American poets . g kingdom yet will come. Ye woodlands all, awake : a boundless Song Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, Expiring, lays the,warbling world asleep. Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles. At once tbe head, the heart, and tongue of all. Crown the great Hymn ; in swarming cities vast. Assembled Men, to the deep organ join The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear. At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ; And, as each mingling
A gallery of famous English and American poets . g kingdom yet will come. Ye woodlands all, awake : a boundless Song Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, Expiring, lays the,warbling world asleep. Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles. At once tbe head, the heart, and tongue of all. Crown the great Hymn ; in swarming cities vast. Assembled Men, to the deep organ join The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear. At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ; And, as each mingling flame increases each. In one united ardor rise to Heaven. Or if you rather choose the rural shade. And find a fane in every sacred grove; There let the shepherds flute, the virgins lay, The prompting seraph, and the poets lyre. Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll ! For me, when I forget the darling theme, 10 38 THOMSON. Whether the Blossom blows, the Summer rayRussets the plain, inspiring Autmnu gleams, ,,^^^^^|... ^--i^vai^i^^-tJ^ Sr-. Or Winter rises in the blackening east, Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more. And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! Should Fate command me to the farthest vergeOf the green earth, to distant barbarous unknown to song; where first the sunGilds Indian mountains, or his setting beamFlames on the Atlantic isles; tis nought to me :Since God is ever present, ever felt,III tlio void waste, as in the city full; HYMN ON THE SEASONS. 39 And where He vital spreads there must be even at last the solemn Hour shall come,And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers,Will rising wonders sing: I cannot goWhere Universal Love not smiles around,Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;From seeming Evil still educing Good,And better thence again, and better infinite progiession. But I loseMyself in Him, in Light ineffable !Come, then, expressive Silence, muse His prai
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
