Poems (Greenwell)/Aspiration
For works with similar titles, see Aspiration.
EARLIER POEMS.
ASPIRATION.
O that my songs were sweet! Sweet as the voice of bird or breath of rose, Then would I lay them at His feet, From whom all sweetness flows.
O that some sudden breeze Might sweeping cross my lyre, that once awoke The solemn murmurs of the cedar trees, Where man with angels spoke!
That once the living coal Upon my lips, within my heart might lie, Within the secret chambers, where my soul Hath stored its imagery.
That once the fire would break While I am musing 'mid the fancies lone That I have garnered, and Heaven's Lightning make The sacrifice its own!
Then would I stoop no more Of earthly Love, of earthly Grief to sing, That met and mingled in their sighs, of yore So oft upon the string;
For as the dew-drops dry On the bird's wing, exhaling in its flight,So mortal dreams would on my spirit die, Nearing the source of light;
And like a flame that glows Steadfast before an altar, from the ground My soul would soar, and scatter as it rose Odours and light around!
Yet since this may not be, Since, but before the Temple's Outer Gate, And not within its Inner Sanctuary I minister and wait;
Still would I linger fain About that Porch, and patient strive to win A breath of sweetness for an earthly strain From all that flows within!
Still would I strive to bring (E'en of the best I could) my gift, and twine Of earthly blossoms, soon awithering, A garland for that shrine;
Flowers of the field and wood. Fading, and faint, and frail, yet haply there Received by Him that made them once so good, And keeps them still so fair!
Pale blossoms, dewy-bright (For they are Earth's, that speaks through tears her love); Yet all their leaves unfolding to the light Of sunshine from above!