324 II. Higher still and higher, From the earth thou springest; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. III. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run; Like an embodied* joy whose race is just begun IV. The pale purple even Melts around thy flight; Like a star of heaven, In the broad day-light Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight, V. Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. VI. All the earth and air * Former reading, unbodied. As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. VII. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody VIII. "Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: IX. Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: X. Like a glowworm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aërial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view: XI. Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Makes faint with too much sweet these heavywinged thieves. XII. Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth sur pass. XIII. Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine : I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. XIV. Chorus bymeneal, Or triumphal chaunt, Matched with thine would be all But an empty vaunt A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. XV. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? XVI. With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. XVII. Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? XVIII. We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; [thought. Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest XIX. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near XX. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! XXI. Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now. ΤΟ I FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden, My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burthen thine |