the may morning.
147
The arctic winter which closed round me long,
And hung all heaven with tempests, hath gone by;
The fear, the sorrow, and the wild despair
Which made a darkness deeper than the night,
And storm that mocked the loud and maddened strife
Of the roused elements,—all, all gone by!
A sky of love is bending o'er me now,
And airs serene are breathing round my paths:
The rich midsummer of my life is here!
And hung all heaven with tempests, hath gone by;
The fear, the sorrow, and the wild despair
Which made a darkness deeper than the night,
And storm that mocked the loud and maddened strife
Of the roused elements,—all, all gone by!
A sky of love is bending o'er me now,
And airs serene are breathing round my paths:
The rich midsummer of my life is here!
O Thou, whose hand rolled back the clouds of fear,
Whose voice spake "peace" to sorrow's whelming deeps,
And in mid-heaven stayed the shadowy wing
Of death's swift angel,—what meet offering
Hath my glad soul to lay upon thy shrine?
Prayers and rapt vigils? or song's votive wreaths,
Dewy with grateful tears? a pilgrim's vows?
Saint-like observance of all sacred rites
And holy days? Not these, not these, my soul;
But the sweet offering of a loving heart,—
But the rich offering of a free-born mind,—
But the long offering of an earnest life.
Whose voice spake "peace" to sorrow's whelming deeps,
And in mid-heaven stayed the shadowy wing
Of death's swift angel,—what meet offering
Hath my glad soul to lay upon thy shrine?
Prayers and rapt vigils? or song's votive wreaths,
Dewy with grateful tears? a pilgrim's vows?
Saint-like observance of all sacred rites
And holy days? Not these, not these, my soul;
But the sweet offering of a loving heart,—
But the rich offering of a free-born mind,—
But the long offering of an earnest life.
