Music and Other Poems | Page 5

tranquil eye.
To him the desert was a place prepared
For weary hearts to rest;?The hillside was a temple blest;?The grassy vale a banquet-room?Where he could feed and comfort many a guest.
With him the lily shared?The vital joy that breathes itself in bloom;?And every bird that sang beside the nest?Told of the love that broods o'er every living thing.
He watched the shepherd bring?His flock at sundown to the welcome fold,?The fisherman at daybreak fling?His net across the waters gray and cold,?And all day long the patient reaper swing?His curving sickle through the harvest-gold.?So through the world the foot-path way he trod,?Drawing the air of heaven in every breath;?And in the evening sacrifice of death?Beneath the open sky he gave his soul to God.?Him will I trust, and for my Master take;?Him will I follow; and for his dear sake,
God of the open air,?To thee I make my prayer.
V
>From the prison of anxious thought that greed has builded, >From the fetters that envy has wrought and pride has gilded, >From the noise of the crowded ways and the fierce confusion, >From the folly that wastes its days in a world of illusion, (Ah, but the life is lost that frets and languishes there!) I would escape and be free in the joy of the open air.
By the breadth of the blue that shines in silence o'er me,?By the length of the mountain-lines that stretch before me, By the height of the cloud that sails, with rest in motion, Over the plains and the vales to the measureless ocean,?(Oh, how the sight of the things that are great enlarges the eyes!) Lead me out of the narrow life, to the peace of the hills
and the skies.
While the tremulous leafy haze on the woodland is spreading, And the bloom on the meadow betrays where May has been treading; While the birds on the branches above, and the brooks flowing under, Are singing together of love in a world full of wonder,?(Lo, in the marvel of Springtime, dreams are changed into truth!) Quicken my heart, and restore the beautiful hopes of youth.
By the faith that the flowers show when they bloom unbidden, By the calm of the river's flow to a goal that is hidden,?By the trust of the tree that clings to its deep foundation, By the courage of wild birds' wings on the long migration,?(Wonderful secret of peace that abides in Nature's breast!) Teach me how to confide, and live my life, and rest.
For the comforting warmth of the sun that my body embraces, For the cool of the waters that run through the shadowy places, For the balm of the breezes that brush my face with their fingers, For the vesper-hymn of the thrush when the twilight lingers, For the long breath, the deep breath, the breath
of a heart without care,--?I will give thanks and adore thee, God of the open air!
VI
These are the gifts I ask?Of thee, Spirit serene:?Strength for the daily task,?Courage to face the road,?Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load,?And, for the hours of rest that come between,?An inward joy in all things heard and seen.
These are the sins I fain?Would have thee take away:?Malice, and cold disdain,?Hot anger, sullen hate,?Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great,?And discontent that casts a shadow gray?On all the brightness of the common day.
These are the things I prize?And hold of dearest worth:?Light of the sapphire skies,?Peace of the silent hills,?Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,?Music of birds, murmur of little rills,?Shadow of clouds that swiftly pass,
And, after showers,?The smell of flowers?And of the good brown earth,--?And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.
So let me keep?These treasures of the humble heart?In true possession, owning them by love;?And when at last I can no longer move?Among them freely, but must part?From the green fields and from the waters clear,
Let me not creep?Into some darkened room and hide?From all that makes the world so bright and dear;
But throw the windows wide?To welcome in the light;?And while I clasp a well-beloved hand,
Let me once more have sight?Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,--
Then gently fall on sleep,?And breathe my body back to Nature's care,?My spirit out to thee, God of the open air.
SONNETS
WORK
Let me but do my work from day to day,
In field or forest, at the desk or loom,?In roaring market-place or tranquil room;?Let me but find it in my heart to say,?When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,?"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;?"Of all who live, I am the one by whom?"This work can best be done in the right way."
Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,?To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;?Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,?And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall?At eventide, to