Poems (Greenwell)/Aspiration

by Dora Greenwell

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!