I turn to you my fragrant; Bedewed and straggling vagrant, You are a simple flower, And scarce live out the hour Here in the garden by-way (That still is Nature’s highway!) Yet utter from the grass Lessons from Phidias!
I would not have thee otherwise, O cloudy skies; I would not change the night to day Nor drive away The shadows that are hanging o’er My hearth and door.
There is some good that lurketh where The lightnings flare; There is a peace that bideth in The fiercest din; A vernal light doth look upon Fields winter-won.
If God were not the Overheart, Nor had a part In all the wounds that hurt us so! But He doth know And doth in patience see and bless In gentleness.
How sturdy and how great, O earth! Within thy girth Thou wieldst what passion and what pain O’er man’s domain; And yet within thy shadows blest Is perfect rest.
Turn not unto the light too long Friend, with thy song! Thou hast not need to look afar For hill or star; Here in the shadow rest is found Deep and profound.
“Lead, kindly light,” I heard the glad bells ring, And thought how God existeth everywhere. ’Twas in a city strange that, sweetest thing! “Lead, kindly light,” I heard the glad bells ring, And Summer stole into the early spring, For where the kind light leadeth all is fair. “Lead, kindly light,” I heard the glad bells ring, And thought how God existeth everywhere.
The songs you sing, the songs you sing, They are such songs as need not words, They are the songs that soar and ring Like utterance of wildwood birds. The ear is puzzled at the sound-- They are so far from common art That what is best in them is found By simply listening with the heart!
The words you speak, the words you speak, Have little of philosophy; They voice not things that wise men seek, They have no hint of poetry, And yet each syllable that slips Up from your soul and bubbles o’er The yielding gateway of your lips A gracious meaning holds in store.
The songs you sing are simple songs, Your words are words that children use To tell of love, complain of wrongs; You may the guiding notes confuse, (If any notes e’er met your eyes!) They rise, and live, and lingering, Each song and word alternate dies In words you speak, in songs you sing.