Who in what vale a fountain springs
Would have its journey close.
Countless beginnings, fair first parts,
Leap to the light, and shining flow;
All broken things, or toys or hearts,
Are mended where they go.
Then down thy stream, with hope-filled sail,
Float faithful fearless on, loved friend;
‘Tis God that has begun the tale
And does not mean to end.
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Why dost thou want to sing
If there be in thee a hidden spring,Wherefore will no word start?On its way thou hearest no song,Yet flutters thy unborn joy!The years of thy life are growing long-Art still the heart of a boy?-Father, I am thy child!My heart is in thy hand!Let it hear some echo, with gladness wild,Of a song in thy…
I.
To walk about the fields,And make of midnight magic noonOn lonely tarns and wealds.In golden ranks, with golden crowns,All in the yellow land,Old solemn kings in rustling gowns,The shocks moon-charmed stand.Sky-mirror she, afloat in space,Beholds our coming morn:Her heavenly joy hath such a grace,It ripens earthly corn;Like some lone saint with upward eyes,Lost in the…
Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We may not start
Haggard and pale from some bleak wilderness,Empty of all save God and thy loud heart,Nor with like rugged message quick to dartInto the hideous fiction mean and base;But yet, O prophet man, we need not lessBut more of earnest, though it is thy partTo deal in other words, if thou wouldst smiteThe living Mammon, seated,…
‘Earth, if aught should check thy race,
Headlong, stayless, thou wilt fallInto yonder glowing ball!’‘Beggar of the universe,Faithless as an empty purse!Sent abroad to cool and tame,Think’st I fear my native flame?’‘If thou never on thy trackTurn thee round and hie thee back,Thou wilt wander evermore,Outcast, cold-a comet hoar!’‘While I sweep my ring alongIn an air of joyous song,Thou art drifting, heart…
There is not any weed but hath its shower,
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Brother artist, help me; come!
I have words but not a hand;Thou hast hands though thou art dumb.Had I thine, when words did fail-Vassal-words their hasting chief,On the white awaiting leafShapes of power should tell the tale.Had I hers of music-might,I would shake the air with stormTill the red clouds trailed enormBoreal dances through the night.Had I his whose foresight…