I dreamed that each most lovely, perfect thingThat Nature hath, of sound, and form, and hue—The winds, the grass, the light-concentering dew,The gleam and swiftness of the sea-bird's wing;Blueness of sea and sky, and gold of stormTransmuted by the sunset, and the flameOf autumn-colored leaves, before me came,And, meeting, merged to one diviner form.Incarnate Beauty 'twas, whose spirit thrillsThrough glaucous ocean and the greener hills,And in the cloud-bewildered peaks is pent.Like some descended star she hovered o'er,But as I gazed, in doubt and wonderment,Mine eyes were dazzled, and I saw no more.
THE DREAM-BRIDGE
All drear and barren seemed the hours,That passed rain-swept and tempest-blown.The dead leaves fell like brownish notesWithin the rain's grey monotone.There came a lapse between the showers;The clouds grew rich with sunset gleams;Then o'er the sky a rainbow sprang—A bridge unto the Land of Dreams.
A LIVE-OAK LEAF
How marvellous this bit of greenI hold, and soon shall throw away!Its subtile veins, its vivid sheen,Seem fragment of a god's array.In all the hidden toil of earth,Which is the more laborious part—To rear the oak's enormous girth,Or shape its leaves with poignant art?
PINE NEEDLES
O little lances, dipped in grey,And set in order straight and clean,How delicately clear and keenYour points against the sapphire day!Attesting Nature's perfect artYe fringe the limpid firmament,O little lances, keenly sentTo pierce with beauty to the heart!