  I stand on the cliff and watch the veiled sun paling A silver field afar in the mournful sea, The scourge of the surf, and plaintive gulls sailing At ease on the gale that smites the shuddering lea: Whose smile severe and chaste June never hath stirred to vanity, nor age defaced. In lofty thought strive, O spirit, for ever: In courage and strength pursue thine own endeavour. Ah! if it were only for thee, thou restless ocean Of waves that follow and roar, the sweep of the tides; Were’t only for thee, impetuous wind, whose motion Precipitate all o’errides, and turns, nor abides: For you sad birds and fair, Or only for thee, bleak cliff, erect in the air; Then well could I read wisdom in every feature, O well should I understand the voice of Nature. The silent river glides by flowery banks: And birds sing sweetly in branches that arch an alley Of cloistered trees, moss-grown in their ancient ranks: Where if a light air stray, ’Tis laden with hum of bees and scent of may. Love and peace be thine, O spirit, for ever: Serve thy sweet desire: despise endeavour. And if it were only for thee, entrancÈd river, That scarce dost rock the lily on her airy stem, Or stir a wave to murmur, or a rush to quiver; Were’t but for the woods, and summer asleep in them: For you my bowers green, My hedges of rose and woodbine, with walks between, Then well could I read wisdom in every feature, O well should I understand the voice of Nature. |
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