Page:The poetical works of James Thomson (1895), Volume 1.djvu/288

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187
SUNDAY UP THE RIVER

And the breath of the morning sweepeth light The luminous dust away : And soon, soon, soon, Crowning the floor of the land and the sea, Shall be wrought the dome of Noon. The burning sapphire dome. With solemn imagery ; vast shapes that stand Each like an island ringed with flashing foam. Black-purple mountains, creeks and rivers of light, Crags of cleft crystal blazing to the crest : Vast isles that move, that roam A tideless sea of infinite &thomless rest. Thus shall it be this noon : And thus, so slowly, slowly from its birth In the long night's dark swoon. Through the long morning's trance, sweet, vague, and dim, The Sun divine above Doth build up in us, Heaven completing Earth, Our solemn Noon of Love. IV. The church bells are ringing : How green the earth, how fresh and fair ! The thrushes are singing : What rapture but to breathe this air !