Imágenes de páginas

CXCVIII THE UNBELIEVER Behold yon wretch, by impious passion driven, Believes and trembles while he scoffs at Heaven; By weakness strong, and bold thro' fear alone, He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To man a coward, and a brave to God.

A. Pope

God scatters love on every side,
Freely among his children all,
And always hearts are lying open wide
Wherein some grains may fall.

There is no wind but soweth seeds
Of a more true and open life,
Which burst, unlook-d for, into high-soul'd deeds,
With wayside beauty rife.

We find within these souls of ours
Some wild germs of a higher birth,
Which in the poet's tropic heart bear flowers
Whose fragrance fills the earth.

Within the hearts of all men lie
Those promises of wider bliss,
Which blossom into hopes that cannot die,
In sunny hours like this.

J. R. Lowell


Deep on the convent-roof the snows

Are sparkling to the moon:
My breath to Heaven like vapour goes,

May my soul follow soon!
The shadows of the convent towers

Slant down the snowy sward,
Still creeping with the creeping hours

That lead me to my Lord:
Make thou my spirit pure and clear

As are the frosty skies,
Or this first snowdrop of the year

That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soil'd, and dark,

To yonder shining ground;
As this pale taper's earthly spark,

To yonder argent round;
So shows my soul before the Lamb,

My spirit before Thee,
So in mine earthly house I am

To that I hope to be.
Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,

Thro' all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, Thy bride, a glittering star

In raiment white, and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors,

The flashes come, and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,

And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up, the gates

Roll back, and far within
For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,

To make me pure of sin.
The sabbaths of eternity,

One Sabbath deep and wide— A light upon the shining sea,

The Bridegroom, and His bride.

A. Tennyson VII




The spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled Heavens, a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun, from day to day,

Does his Creator's power display,

And publishes to every land

The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What, though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball;
What, though no real voice or sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found,

In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing as they shine,
"The hand that made us is Divine."

Joseph Addison


Beautiful are the heralds

That stand at Nature's door, Crying, " O traveller, enter in,

And taste the Master's store!" One or the other always crying—

In the voice of the summer hours, In the thunder of the winter storm,

Or the song of the fresh spring flowers.

"Enter," they cry, "to a kingly feast,

Where all may venture near; A million beauties for the eye,

And music for the ear:
Only, before thou enterest in,

Upon the threshold fall,
And pay the tribute of thy praise

'To Him who gives thee all.'"

So some kneel down and enter

With reverent step and slow;
And calm airs fraught with precious scent

Breathe round them as they go:
Gently they pass 'mid sight and sound

And the sunshine round them sleeping, To where the angels, Faith and Love,

The inner gates are keeping.

« AnteriorContinuar »