Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart: O'er wave or field, yet breezes laugh to scorn Our puny speed; and birds, and clouds in heaven, And fish, like living shafts that pierce the main, And stars that shoot through freezing air at even,— Who but would follow, might he break his chain? And thou shalt break it soon; the grovelling worm Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free As his transfigured Lord, with lightning form And snowy vest-such grace He won for thee, When from the grave He sprung at dawn of morn, And led through boundless air thy conquering road, Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new-born, Might fearless follow to their blest abode. But first, by many a stern and fiery blast, The world's rude furnace must thy blood refineAnd many a gale of keenest wo be passed, Till every pulse beat time to airs divine,— Till every limb obey the mounting soul, The mounting soul the call by Jesus given : He whom the stormy heart can so control, THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD. SWEET nurslings of the vernal skies, Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew, Memorials prompt and true. Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, As pure, as fragrant, and as fair, Fallen all beside-the world of life, But cheerful and unchanged the while Your first and perfect form ye show, Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, And guilty man, where'er he roams, Your innocent mirth may borrow. The birds of air before us fleet, They cannot brook our shame to meet- Ye fearless in your nests abide- Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, Your silent lessons, undescried By all but lowly eyes: For ye could draw the admiring gaze Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour, As when He paused and owned you good; His blessing on earth's primal bower, Ye felt it all renewed. What care ye now, if winter's storm Alas! of thousand bosoms kind, How few the happy secret find Of your calm loveliness! "Live for to-day! to-morrow's light To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight, Go sleep like closing flowers at night, And heaven thy morn will bless." ADDRESS TO POETS. YE whose hearts are beating high Heirs of more than royal race, Framed, by Heaven's peculiar grace, (If the word be not too bold,) Giving virtue a new birth, And a life that ne'er grows old Sovereign masters of all hearts! His hosannas here below ; Mount, and claim your glorious meed; But if should hold your peace, ye Deem not that the song would cease Angels round His glory-throne, Stars, His guiding hand that own, Flowers, that grow beneath our feet, Stones, in earth's dark womb that rest, High and low in choir shall meet, Ere His name shall be unblest. Lord, by every minstrel tongue But should thankless silence seal Noblest things find vilest using,) Then, thy power and mercy show, Then waken into sound divine The very pavement of thy shrine, Till we, like heaven's star-sprinkled floor, If it flow from childlike hearts. THE UNITED STATES. TYRE of the farther west! be thou too warned, Whose eagle wings thine own green world o'erspread, Touching two oceans: wherefore hast thou scorned Thy fathers' God, O proud and full of bread? Why lies the cross unhonored on thy ground, Except, disrobed of thy vain earthly vaunt, The holy seed, by Heaven's peculiar grace, Is rooted here and there in thy dark woods; But many a rank weed round it grows apace, And Mammon builds beside thy mighty floods, O'ertopping nature, braving nature's God; Oh, while thou yet hast room, fair, fruitful land, Ere war and want have stained thy virgin sod, Mark thee a place on high, a glorious stand, Whence truth her sign may make o'er forest, lake, and strand. Eastward, this hour, perchance thou turn'st thine ear, To thee and Heaven. O trying hour for thee! Tyre mocked when Salem fell; where now is Tyre? Heaven was against her. Nations thick as waves Burst o'er her walls, to ocean doomed and fire; And now the tideless water idly laves Her towers, and lone sands heap her crowned merchants' graves. |