Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/328
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SORROW AND SONG.
Harmony—harmony!
Nature's sweet harmony!
Hark how the melody rains from above!
Strains that are ringing clear,
Through all the atmosphere,
Telling of purity, beauty, and love.
Nature's sweet harmony!
Hark how the melody rains from above!
Strains that are ringing clear,
Through all the atmosphere,
Telling of purity, beauty, and love.
Glorious—glorious!
Yes, it is glorious!
When in the paths that a Milton has trod,
Upward the spirit springs,
As upon seraph's wings.
Mounting to glory, to heaven, to God.
Yes, it is glorious!
When in the paths that a Milton has trod,
Upward the spirit springs,
As upon seraph's wings.
Mounting to glory, to heaven, to God.
Poetry—poetry!
This is true poetry;
Gems of the intellect, earth, and the sky;
Thoughts that are eloquent,
Rare and magnificent,
Brought from the spirit-mine never to die.
This is true poetry;
Gems of the intellect, earth, and the sky;
Thoughts that are eloquent,
Rare and magnificent,
Brought from the spirit-mine never to die.
Genius.
What is genius?—'Tis a flame
Kindling all the human frame;
'Tis a ray that lights the eye,
Soft in love, in battle high,
'Tis the lightning of the mind,
Unsubdued and undefined:
'Tis the flood that pours along
The full clear melody of song:
'Tis the sacred boon of heaven,
To its choicest favourites given.
They who feel can paint it well—
What is genius?—Byron, tell!
Kindling all the human frame;
'Tis a ray that lights the eye,
Soft in love, in battle high,
'Tis the lightning of the mind,
Unsubdued and undefined:
'Tis the flood that pours along
The full clear melody of song:
'Tis the sacred boon of heaven,
To its choicest favourites given.
They who feel can paint it well—
What is genius?—Byron, tell!
Sorrow and Song.
Weep not over poet's wrong,
Mourn not his mischances,
Sorrow is the source of song,
And of gentle fancies.
Mourn not his mischances,
Sorrow is the source of song,
And of gentle fancies.