THE SPIRIT OF POESY
A viewless Spirit walks this changing earth
All unattended in her artless grace,
Phantoms of sadness blent with gleams of mirth
Play o'er the beauty of her child-like face.
All unattended in her artless grace,
Phantoms of sadness blent with gleams of mirth
Play o'er the beauty of her child-like face.
She clasps a lyre in unfeigned ecstasy
And blends its music with her gentle voice,
Weird fancies steeped in subtile phantasy
Through its wild chords lament but to rejoice.
And blends its music with her gentle voice,
Weird fancies steeped in subtile phantasy
Through its wild chords lament but to rejoice.
Not only to the lofty does she come,
To Nature not to Art her song belongs,
Oft is her music to the monarch dumb
While Nature's children revel in her songs.
To Nature not to Art her song belongs,
Oft is her music to the monarch dumb
While Nature's children revel in her songs.
She makes the forest trees speak words sublime,
She bids the flowers break forth in songs of praise,
Commands the stars a voiceless language shine,
Teaches the brooks to sing through stony ways.
She bids the flowers break forth in songs of praise,
Commands the stars a voiceless language shine,
Teaches the brooks to sing through stony ways.
In her is centered all that earth may boast,
That beauty, imagery and time have wrought,
The blooming vale or rugged cliff-bound coast
Are powerless if her wand has touched them not.
That beauty, imagery and time have wrought,
The blooming vale or rugged cliff-bound coast
Are powerless if her wand has touched them not.
Her footsteps gild the sands upon the beach,
Her smiles reflect the heaven's supernal blue,
There is no height her magic cannot reach
And call forth gleams of beauty strange and new.
Her smiles reflect the heaven's supernal blue,
There is no height her magic cannot reach
And call forth gleams of beauty strange and new.
She prisons all the sunset's richest dyes
And pours them out to Nature's humblest child,
Age and disease her wondrous lyre defies
To hush its notes of rapture quaint and wild.
And pours them out to Nature's humblest child,
Age and disease her wondrous lyre defies
To hush its notes of rapture quaint and wild.
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