« 이전계속 »
That stream in blithe succession from the throats
Warbling a farewell to a vernal shower.
-There is a radiant though a short-lived flame,
That burns for Poets in the dawning east ;
The towers of righteousness;
He knows that from a holier altar came
The quickening spark of this day's sacrifice;
Knows that the source is nobler whence doth rise
That deeper far it lies
Than aught dependent on the fickle skies.
THE SABBATH MORN.
THE SABBATH MORN.
WOW still the morning of the hallowed day!
Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers,
The distant bleating midway up the hill.
Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud.
The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale;
The voice of psalms,-the simple song of praise.
With dove-like wings, Peace o'er yon Village broods:
Less fearful on this day, the limping hare
Stops and looks back, and stops, and looks on man,
And, as his stiff unwieldy bulk he rolls,
His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray.
ULL many a glorious morning have I seen.
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
HE day's wan light breaks fair and far,
It rocks the slight and silvery beam.
Freshly the heart of day is breathing;
The skylark leaves its nest,
With pearls upon its breast;
From its nested sedge the crownèd swan glides slow,
And forth into the morning, like the light doth go!
ARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise!
OR loe! the world's great Shepheard here is borne,
By prophets seene afarre:
Sprung is the mirthfull May,
Which winter cannot marre.
In David's citie doth this Sunne appeare,
Clouded in flesh: yet shepheards sit we here.