Which we are toiling all our lives to find, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? IX O joy! that in our embers The thought of our past years in me doth breed For that which is most worthy to be blest- Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings High instincts before which our mortal Nature Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, X Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Though nothing can bring back the hour Which having been must ever be ; In the faith that looks through death, XI And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels.fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they ; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun 1803-6 THE END. BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. |