Читать книгу Poems - Julia C. R. Dorr - Страница 11

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Ah, Life, dear Life, how beautiful art thou! All day sweet, chiming voices in my heart Have hymned thy praises joyfully as now, Telling how fair thou art!

This morn, while yet the dew was on the flowers, They sang like skylarks, soaring while they sing; This noon, like birds within their leafy bowers, Warbled with folded wing.

Slow fades the twilight from the glowing west, And one pale star hangs o’er yon mountain’s brow; With deeper joy, that may not be repressed, O Life, they hail thee now!

And not alone from this poor heart of mine Do these glad notes of grateful love ascend; Voices from mount and vale and woodland shrine In the full chorus blend.

The young leaves feel thy presence and rejoice The while they frolic with the happy breeze; And pæans sweeter than a seraph’s voice Rise from the swaying trees.

Each flower that hides within the forest dim, Where mortal eye may ne’er its beauty see, Waves its light censer, while it breathes a hymn In humble praise of thee.

Through quivering pines the gentle south winds stray, Singing low songs that bid the tear-drops start; And thoughts of thee are in each trembling lay, Thrilling the listener’s heart.

Old Ocean lifts his solemn voice on high, Thy name, O Life, repeating evermore, While sweeping gales and rushing storms reply From many a far-off shore.

The stars are gathering in the darkening skies, But our dull ears their music may not hear, Though, while we list, their swelling anthems rise Exultingly and clear!

O Earth is beautiful! She weareth still The golden radiance of life’s early day; Still Love and Hope for me their chalice fill,— Life, turn not thou away!