Poems (Cromwell)/Joy
For works with similar titles, see Joy.
JOY
How shall I make of joy discovery?
For is it not an orbit that enspheres
The heart? Like misty heaven, as one nears,
The circuit spreads; and like the flowing sea
Whose waves evolve a scroll of mystery,
Its vague development eludes the seers.
It is a garment like the shrouding years,—
A dusky shield, a cloudy canopy,
Illumined by the soul that stands beneath.
It must forever amplify, deploy,
Give spirit space,—that's all I know of joy.
It is a hovering defence, a sheath,
In which the spirit comes to flowering,
A folding and a cool enfolded wing.
For is it not an orbit that enspheres
The heart? Like misty heaven, as one nears,
The circuit spreads; and like the flowing sea
Whose waves evolve a scroll of mystery,
Its vague development eludes the seers.
It is a garment like the shrouding years,—
A dusky shield, a cloudy canopy,
Illumined by the soul that stands beneath.
It must forever amplify, deploy,
Give spirit space,—that's all I know of joy.
It is a hovering defence, a sheath,
In which the spirit comes to flowering,
A folding and a cool enfolded wing.