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POEMS OF NATURE.
'Tis born with all: the love of Nature's works
Nature's voice is sweet
POEMS OF NATURE.
The World is too much with us. THE world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers : Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune; It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
Ministrations of Nature. WITH other ministrations thou, O Nature, Healest thy wandering and distemper'd child ! Thou pourest on him thy soft influences, Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets, Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters; Till he relent, and can no more endure To be a jarring and discordant thing Amid this general dance and minstrelsy; But, bursting into tears, wins back his way, His angry spirit heal'd and harmonized By the benignant touch of love and beauty.
Flowers, the Stars of Earth.
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
Stars, that in earth’s firmament do shine.
As astrologers and seers of eld;
Like the burning stars which they beheld.
God hath written in those stars above; But not less in the bright flowerets under us
Stands the revelation of his love. Bright and glorious is that revelation
Written all over this great world of ours; Making evident our own creation,
In these stars of earth—these golden flowers. And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing,
Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part Of the self-same universal being,
Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. Gorgeous flowerets in the sun-light shining;
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day,
Buds that open only to decay;
Flaunting gaily in the golden light;
Tender wishes, blossoming at night! These in flowers and men are more than seeming;
Workings are they of the self-same powers, Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming,
Seeth in himself and in the flowers. Everywhere about us are they glowing,
Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born ; Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,
Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn;