The purple-headed mountains, The river running by, The morning and the sunset That lighteth up the sky.
The tall trees in the greenwood, The pleasant summer sun, The ripe fruits in the garden, He made them everyone.
He gave us eyes to see them, And lips that we might tell, How great is God Almighty, Who hath made all things well. --_John Keble_.
This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main,-- The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the ship of pearl! And every chambered cell, Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, Before thee lies revealed,-- Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!
Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn. While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:--
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Used by the kind permission of Houghton, Mifflin and Company.
[Illustration] THE CHILDREN OF THE SHELL By Murillo (1618-1682)
This is one of the famous pictures of the great artist Murillo. The little child John is giving the little Jesus a drink from a shell. "The child nature is charmingly portrayed, so innocent and gentle--seeming to suggest a lovable nature in the artist himself. His pictures always arouse the reverential feeling--which puts the stamp of artistic greatness upon them." [End illustration]
The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.