Poems (Edwards)/Poetry
For works with similar titles, see Poetry.
POEMS.
POETRY.
O! askest thou for poetry? Search not amid thy books,Go, wander through the deep green woods, And bend above the brooks;Go where the winds are murmuring low,Go where the sparkling waters flow,And thou wilt find the pure, the free,—The bounding soul of poetry.
O! there is more of poetry In the sweet hymns of birds,'Than all that Poets could ever breathe In all the chime of words; More music in one thrilling note,Soft-gushing from a Mock-bird's throat,Than e'er has flowed from minstrel's lyre,However warmed with hallowed fire.
There is a world of poetry In flowers and trees and rills;And stanzas of immortal song Are echoed through the hills;The winds and waves, the bending grassThat trembles where the waters pass;The stars that twinkle in the skyAre rich with heaven-born minstrelsy.
The world is full of poetry, On every breeze it flies,It trembles on each azure cloud, That floats along the skies';It glitters on the sunbeam's breast,It comes in night's dark mantle drest;It fills the earth, the sky, the air—A spirit whispering everywhere.
O! give the poetry to me, That dwells in Nature's store;Give, give to me unwritten thought, I ask, I ask no more;Give me the breath of flowerets fair,Give me the pure and balmy air,Give me the melody that springsFrom all of earth's created things;—The voiceless music of the soul,The gushing hymn that spurns control;I ask no polished thing of art,I ask the music of the heart.