Class _:.PR_iAi5. Book ,T S'li CoByrightN?. c| 4" COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT Quiet Hours, A COLLECTION OF POEMS, ^ccottb ^txxt%. iv ■O Thou, the primal fount of life and peace, Who shedd'st Thy breathing quiet all around, In me command that pain and conflict cease, And turn to music every jarring sound." BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1904. LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two CoDies Received DEC / IS08 . Copyriffht CLASS nJ \Xc ^0, Copyright, 1880, By Roberts Brothers. John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. preface; This little volume, like the first series of "Quiet Hours," contains poems of nature and religion. I must express my thanks to the authors who have kindly allowed me to make this use of their poems, and to the publishers who have been so good as to permit me to print copyrighted poems, — Messrs. .D. Appleton & Co., Messrs. E. P. Button & Co., and Messrs. Roberts Brothers. To the latter I am indebted for several poems by Jean Ingelow, from a volume called " Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads." M. w. T. November, 1880. CONTENTS NATURE. From '* The Prelude " W. Wordsworth The Voices of Nature F. T. Palgrave . From " The Recluse " W. Wordsworth Resuscitation of Fancy Charles Turner . Most Sweet is it W. Wordsworth From " Endymion " John Keats . . From " Dejection : An Ode " . . . . S. T. Coleridge . To a Skylark W. Wordsworth It is a Beauteous Evening W. Wordsworth The Evening Breeze Charles Turner Three Years She Grew W. Wordsworth Composed on a May Morning, 1838 . . W. Wordsworth Wind on the Corn diaries Turner The Felled Oak Charles Turner A Photograph on the Red Gold .... Charles Turtier This Gray Round World John Sterling . The Robin Jones Very . . Elegiac Stanzas W. Wordsworth See what a Lovely Shell A. Tetmyson . . The Recollection P. B. Shelley . . An Evening Voluntary W. Wordsworth An Evening Voluntary, II W. Wordsworth To , in her Seventieth Year . . . W, Wordsworth The Harvest Moon Charles Turner . Oriou Charles Turtier . CONTENTS. From " In Memoriam, CXIX." . . . A. Tennyson Night Wm. Blake PAGE . 28 MORNING AND EVENING. A Morning Prayer C.J. P. Spitta . Morning Hymn John Sterling . Ecce jam Noctis tenuatur Umbra . . . Breviary . . . Morning Hymn T. H. Gill . . . Morning Thomas Ken . . Come to Me Henry V. T. . . O Silence Deep and Strange . . . . . J. F. Eichendorf Rector Potens, Verax Deus Breviary . . . Rules and Lessons Henry Vaughan The Hours Jones Very . . The Night Henry Vaughan Evening Jeati Ingelow Abide with Me H. F. Lyte . . Evening John Keble . . Vesper Hymn Eliza Scudder . Night Jones Very . . INWARD STRIFE. Sin George Herbert . The Sinful Wish Hartley Coleridge Multum Dilexit Hartley Coleridge O Father ! I have sinned Henry S. Sutton Low Spirits F. W. Faber . . An Appeal Henry S. Sutton A Cry of the Soul Pierre Corneille . Divine Love Gerhard Tersteegen Pettishness Henry S. Sutton Prayer for Strength A nonymous . . Uncertainty Christian Intelligenc The Lost Cherith A nna Shipton . . My Quest LitteWs Living Age CONTENTS. Vil From " In Memoriam, CXXII." . . . A.Tennyson. . Lord, I have lain Francis Quarles PAGE 59 60 LIFE AND DUTY. Life Mosaic F. R. Havergal Work E. B. Browning One Day at a Time E. S. IVatson . Good Temper Hannah More . From " The Angel in the House "... Coventry Patmore From " In Memoriam, CIX." . . . . A. Tennyson. . She was a Phantom of Delight . . . . W. Wordsworth The Secret of a Happy Day F. R. Havergal Abou Ben Adhem Leigh Hunt . . Virtue George Herbert . Be Useful where Thou livest George Herbert . The Delectable Mountains Anonymous . . The Divine Life Charles IVesley . True Manliness Henry More . . The Character of a Happy Life .... Sir H. Wottott . Before Labor Charles Wesley . Entire Consecration Joachim Lange . Take My Life F. R. Havergal The Elixir George Herbert . Sonnet G. Macdonald . Sensitiveness J. H. Newman . For None of Us liveth to Himself . . . Jean Ingelow . The Voice in the Twilight K. H. Johnson . Ye also as Lively Stones Jean Ingelow Work on Earth John Wilson . . Now and Afterwards D. M. Craik . . Sonnets from " Within and Without " . George Macdonald The Song of the Christian Pilgrim . . . Gerhard Tersteegen Worldly Place Matthew A mold Quiet Work Matthew A mold Not in Vain Hartley Coleridge All Appointed R. C. Trench . How Soon hath Time . » John Milton . . Cyriack, this Three-years-day .... John Milton . . Mil CONTENTS. Miltv'>n ! Thou shouldst be living . . . W. Wordsworth Character of the Happy Warrior . . . W. Wordsworth Rugby Chapel Matthew A r7iold PAGE . 93 • 94 • 97 PRAYER AND ASPIRATION. Be not afraid to Pray Hartley Coleridge . Praying in Spirit H. M. Kimball . . Help from Prayer R. C. Trench . . Leave Thyself to God Thomas Btirbidge . From the Fourth Sunday after Easter . John Keble . . . A Prayer Sir W. R. Hamilton A Prayer imitated from the Persian . . Robert Southey . . Dryness in Prayer F. W. Faber . . . Distractions in Prayer F. W. Faber . . . Sweetness in Prayer F. W. Faber . . . My Prayer B. T. Alone with God LitteW s Living A ge Father, replenish with Thy grace . . . Angehis Silesius . Hymn and Prayer ^-P"- Clarke . . . O let not the Lord be angry _ Jean Ingelow . . The Gift Anna Shipton . . The Night Service B. M. TRUST AND ADORATION. Within Gerhard Tersteegen Adoration Madame Guyon Commit thy Way to God Paid Gerhardt He made the Stars also Jean Ingelow He hath put the World in their Hearts . Jean Ingelow The Resting-Place amid Changes . - . Anonymoies, 1676 Though I take the Wings of the Morning Jean htgelow In Him we live, and move, etc Jean Ingelow The Flower George Herbert Perfection F. W. Faber . Receiving Dora Greenwell No Fear Anna L. Waring CONTENTS. IX Rest in God Winkler . . , Psalm CXXI Henrj> Vaughan Thy Will Jean Sophia Pigott God's Support Quarks. . . . Joy in the Lord Christian Gregor Childlike Paul Gerhardt . Mount of Olives Hetiry Vatcghan From " The Prelude " IV. Wordsworth Change : Jones Very . . All Things are Yours Anna L. Waring Cheerfulness taught by Reason . . . . E. B. Browning God's Presence the Source of All Joy . . W. Dessler . . On a Long and Perilous Journey . . . Paul Flenimi7ig . God is Faithful Anna L. Waring Disappointment F. R. Havergal . Our Stronghold of Hope Zi/tu Thou wilt keep Him in Perfect Peace . . Anna L. Waring To Myself Paul Flemming . Confido et Conquiesco A. A. Procter . Only Thine Johann Scheffler Thou knowest that I am not blest . . . Anna L. Waring All Things work together for Good . . . C. H. Townshend- HEAVEN AND THE SAINTS. From " Eleanora " On the Memory of Mrs. Thomson . . . She dwelt among the Untrodden Ways . Elegy on Mistress Elizabeth Drury . . The Good — They drop around tJs . . . Light in Darkness From " Wallenstein " From " Lacrymas Patemas " From " Laodamia " Peace The Future Life To Make me to be numbered with Thy Saints John Dry den John Milton . . W. Wordsworth John Dowie I. Williams J. Moidtrie F. von Schille: H. A If or d W. Wordsworth Henry Vaughan W. C. Bryant . W. Wordsworth H. Vauglian . . CONTENTS. The Conqueror's Grave Life It is not growing like a Tree .... They are All gone Hymn to God, my God, in my Sickness Friends of my Youth From " In Meraoriam, XXXIX." The Verdict of Death A Meditation The Communion of Saints .... The Family in Heaven and Earth . . The Cloud of Witnesses Flight of the Spirit W. C. Bryant A. L. Barbauld Ben Jonson . H. Vaughan . John Donne . . , Mrs. Archer Clive A. Tennyson . . Elizabeth Charles Dora Greenwell Richard Mant . r. H. Gill . . . Anonymous . . Felicia D. Henians MISCELLANEOUS. The Unfailing One F. R. Havergal Compelled to bear the Cross H. P'. Hall . From " In Memoriam," Strong Son of God A . Tennyson . " XXXII." . . . A.Tennyson. " " XXXIII.". . . A.Tettnyson. " " XXXVI." . . . A.Tennyson. The Blessed Life W. T. Matson After Strife Independent , After Rest Independent . Thoughts in a City Church Spectator . . Hymn to the City W. C. Bryant Composed upon Westminster Bridge . . IV. Wordsworth A Drop of Dew A ndrew Marvell The Retreat Henry Vaughan Ode on Intimations of Immortality . . . IV. Wordsworth QUIET HOURS, NATURE. FROM "THE PRELUDE." Ere we retired, The cock had crowed, and now the eastern sky- Was kindhng, not unseen, from humble copse And open field, through which the pathway wound, And homeward led my steps. Magnificent The morning rose, in memorable pomp, Glorious as e'er I had beheld — in front. The sea lay laughing at a distance ; near, The solid mountains shone, bright as the clouds, Grain-tinctured, drenched in empyrean light; And in the meadows and the lower grounds Was all the sweetness of a common dawn — Dews, vapors, and the melody of birds. And laborers going forth to till the fields. Ah ! need I say, dear Friend ! that to the brim My heart was full ; I made no vows, but vows Were then made for me ; bond unknown to me X QUIET HOURS. Was given, that I should be, else sinning greatly, A dedicated Spirit. On I walked In thankful blessedness, which yet survives. William Wokdsworth THE VOICES OF NATURE. ■\ 70 ICE of Nature in the heart, ^ Narrow though our science, though Here we only know in part, Give us faith in what we know ! To a fuller life aspiring, Satisfy the heart's desiring : — Tell us of a force, behind Nature's force, supreme, alone : Tell us of a larger mind Than the partial power we own : Tell us of a Being wholly Wise and great and just and holy : — Toning down the pride of mind To a wiser humbleness, Teach the hmits of mankind, Weak to know, and prompt to guess, On the mighty shores that bound us Childhke gathering trifles round us : — Teach how, yet, what here we know To the unknown leads the way, NA TURK. 3 As the light that, faint and low, Prophesies consummate day ; How the little arc before us Proves the perfect circle o'er us : — How the marr'd unequal scheme That on all sides here we meet, Either is a lawless dream, Or must somewhere be complete ; — Where or when, if near, or distant. Known but to the One Existent. — He is. We meanwhile repair From the noise of human things To the fields of larger air, To the shadow of His wings : Listening for His message only In the wild with Nature lonely. Francis Turner Palgravb; FROM "THE RECLUSE." /^F truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope, ^^ And melancholy fear subdued by faith ; Of blessed consolations in distress ; Of moral strength and intellectual power ; Of joy in widest commonalty spread ; Of the individual mind that keeps her own Inviolate retirement, subject there To conscience only, and the law supreme QUIET HOURS. Of that intelligence which governs all — I sing : " fit audience let me find, though few ! " Beauty — a living presence of the earth, Surpassing the most fair ideal forms Which craft of delicate spirits hath composed From earth's materials — waits upon my steps ; Pitches her tents before me as I move, An hourly neighbor. Paradise, and groves Elysian, fortunate fields — like those of old Sought in the Atlantic main — why should they be A history only of departed things, Or a mere fiction of what never was ? For the discerning intellect of man, When wedded to this goodly universe In love and holy passion, shall find these A simple produce of the common day. William Wordsworth. RESUSCITATION OF FANCY. 'T^HE edge of thought was blunted by the stress Of the hard world ; my fancy had wax'd dull. All Nature seemed less nobly beautiful, — Robbed of her grandeur and her loveliness ; Methought the Muse within my heart had died, Till, late, awaken'd at the break of day, Just as the East took fire and doff'd its gray. The rich preparatives of light I spied ; NA TURE. 5 But one sole star — none other anywhere — A wild-rose odor from the fields was borne ; The lark's mysterious joy filled earth and air, And from the wind's top met the hunter's horn , The aspen trembled wildly, and the morn Breath'd up in rosy clouds, divinely fair ! Charles Turner, A TOST sweet is it with unuplifted eyes ■*■'-*- To pace the ground, if path be there or none, While a fair region round the traveller lies Which he forbears again to look upon ; Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene, The work of fancy, or some happy tone Of meditation, slipping in between The beauty coming and the beauty gone. If thought and love desert us, from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse ; With thought and love companions of our way, Whate'er the senses take or may refuse, The mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews Of inspiration on the humblest lay. William Wordsworth FROM "ENDYMION." A THING of beauty is a joy forever : ''^^ Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 6 QUIET HOURS. Full of sweet dreams, and health and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth. Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made for our searching ; yes, in spite of all. Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in ; and clear rills That for themselves a cooling covert make 'Gainst the hot season ; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms : And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead ; All lovely tales that we have heard or read : An endless fountain of immortal drink. Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. John Keats FROM "DEJECTION: AN ODE." A GRIEF without a pang, void, dark, and drear, •*• ^ A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief, Which finds no natural outlet, no relief. In word, or sigh, or tear — O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood. To other thoughts by yonder throstle wooed, NA TURK. 7 All this long eve, so balmy and serene, ' Have I been gazing on the western sky. And its peculiar tint of yellow green : And still I gaze — and with how blank an eye ! And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, Th?t give away their motion to the stars ; Those stars, that ghde behind them or between. Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen : Yon crescent moon as fixed as if it grew In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue ; I see them all so excellently fair, I see, not feel how beautiful they are ! • My genial spirits fail ; And what can these avail To lift the smothering weight from off my breast ? It were a vain endeavor Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west : I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. O Lady ! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live : Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud ! And would we aught behold, of higher worth. Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd. Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the earth — QUIET HOURS. And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element ! Samuel Taylok Coleridge. TO A SKYLARK. ■pTHEREAL minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky ! ^-^ Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still ! To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler ! — that love-prompted strain, ('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain : Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege ! to sing All independent of the leafy Spring. Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine ; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine ; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam ; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home. William Wordsworth. NA TURE. 9 TT is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; •*■ The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity ; The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea. Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder everlastingly. Dear child ! dear girl ! that walkest with me here. If thou appear'st untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine : Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; And worshipp'st at the temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not. William Wordsworth, 1802 'HP HE evening breeze is blowing from the lea Upon the fluttering elm ; thou hast a mind, O star ! methinks, to settle in the tree — But, ever baffled by the pettish wind, Thou movest back and forward, and I find A pastime for my thoughts in watching thee ; In thy vast orbit thou art rolling now, And wottest not how to my human eye Thou seemest flouted by a waving bough, Serving my fancy's needs right pleasantly ; Thou wottest not — but He who made thee knows Of all thy fair results both far and near, Of all thine earthly, all thine heavenly shows — The expression of thy beauty there and here. Charles Turner. lO QUIET HOURS. "THREE YEARS SHE GREW." 'T^HREE years she grew in sun and shower, -*• Then Nature said, " A lovelier flower On earth was never sown. This child I to myself will take ; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. " Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse ; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain. " She shall be sportive as the fawn That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs ; And hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm Of mute insensate things. " The floating clouds their state shall iend To her : for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. NA TURE 1 1 " The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face. " And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell ; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell." Thus Nature spake. The work was done ; How soon my Lucy's race was run ! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene ; The memory of what has been, And nevermore will be. William Wordsworth, 1799 COMPOSED ON A MAY MORNING. T IFE with yon lambs, hke day, is just begun, -■-^ Yet Nature seems to them a heavenly guide. Does joy approach ? they meet the coming tide ; And sullenness avoid, as now they shun Pale twihght's Hngering glooms, — and in the sun Couch near their dams, with quiet satisfied ; Or gambol, each with his shadow at his side, 12 QUIET HOURS. Varying its shape wherever he may run. As they from turf yet hoar with sleepy dew All turn, and court the shining and the green, Where herbs look up and opening flowers are seen, Why to God's goodness cannot we be true ? And so. His gifts and promises between, Feed to the last on pleasures ever new ? William Wordsworth, 1838. WIND ON THE CORN. "Tj^ULL often as I rove by path or stile, ■■- To watch the harvest ripening in the vale. Slowly and sweetly, hke a growing smile — A smile that ends in laughter — the quick gale Upon the breadths of gold-green wheat descends ; While still the swallow, with unbaffled grace, About his viewless quarry dips and bends — And all the fine excitement of the chase Lies in the hunter's beauty : in the eclipse Of that brief shadow, how the barley's beard Tilts at the passing gloom, and wnld-rose dips Among the white-tops in the ditches reared : And hedge-row's flowery breast of lace-work stirs Faintly in that full wind that rocks the outstanding firs. Charles Turner. NA TURE. 13 THE FELLED OAK: Grasby Vicarage, September 5, 1874. "YT THEN the storm felled ouroak, andthou,fair wold, ' ^ Wert seen beyond it, we were slow to take The lesson taught ; for our old neighbor's sake, We found thy distant presence wan and cold, And gave thee no warm welcome, for whene'er We tried to dream him back into the place WHiere once he stood, the giant of his race, 'T was but to lift an eye and thou wert there. His sad remembrancer, the monument That told us he was gone. But thou hast blent Thy beauty with our loss so long and well, That in all future grief we may foretell Some lurking good behind each seeming ill, Beyond each fallen tree some fair blue hill. Charles Turner. A PHOTOGRAPH ON THE RED- GOLD. Jersey, 1867. A BOUT the knoll the airs blew fresh and brisk, ^ And, musing as I sat, I held my watch Upon my open palm ; its smooth bright disk Was uppermost, and so it came to catch, And dwarf, the figure of a waving tree, 14 QUIET HOURS. Backed by the West. A tiny sunshine peeped About a tiny ehn, — and both were steeped In royal metal, flaming ruddily : How lovely was that vision to behold ! How passing sweet that fairy miniature, That streamed and flickered o'er the burning gold ! God of small things and great ! do Thou ensure Thy gift of sight, till all my days are told, Bless all its bliss, and keep its pleasures pure ! Charles Turner. 'T^HIS gray round world, so full of life, Of hate and love, of calm and strife. Still ship-like on for ages fares. How grand it sweeps the eternal blue ! GHde on, fair vessel, till thy crew Discern how great a lot is theirs. John Sterling. THE ROBIN. 'T^HOU need'st not flutter from thy half-built nest, -*- Whene'er thou hear'st man's hurrying feet go by. Fearing his eye for harm may on thee rest. Or he thy young unfinished cottage spy ; All will not heed thee on that swinging bough. Nor care that round thy shelter spring the leaves, Nor watch thee on the pool's wet margin now For clay to plaster straws thy cunning weaves: NATURE. 15 All will not hear thy sweet out-pouring joy, That with morn's stillness blends the voice of song, For over-anxious cares their souls employ. That else upon thy music borne along And the light wings of heart-ascending prayer Had learned that Heaven is pleased thy simple joys to share. Jones Very. ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT. T WAS thy neighbor once, thou rugged pile ! "^ Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee : I saw thee every day ; and all the while Thy form was sleeping on a glassy sea. So pure the sky, so quiet was the air ! So like, so very hke, was day to day ! Whene'er I looked, thy image still was there ; It trembled, but it never passed away. How perfect was the calm ! it seemed no sleep ; No mood which season takes away, or brings : I could have fancied that the mighty deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle things. Ah ! then^ if mine had been the painter's hand, To express what then I saw, and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land. The consecration, and the poet's dream, 1 6 QUIET HOURS. I would have planted thee, thou hoary pile, Amid a world how different from this ! Beside a sea that could not cease to smile, On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss A picture had it been of lasting ease, Elysian quiet, without toil or strife ; No motion but the moving tide, a breeze, Or merely silent Nature's breathing life. Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, Such picture would I at that time have made ; And seen the soul of truth in every part, A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed. So once it would have been; 't is so no more ; I have submitted to a new control : A power is gone which nothing can restore ; A deep distress hath humanized my soul. Not for a moment could I now behold A smiling sea, and be what I have been ! The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old ; This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. Then, Beaumont, friend who would have been the friend, If he had lived, of him* whom I deplore. This work of thine I blame not, but commend — This sea in anger and that dismal shore. * His brother, Captain John Wordsworth, who was lost at sea NATURE. 17 Oh, 't is a passionate work — yet wise and well, Well chosen is the spirit that is here ; That hulk which labors in the deadly swell, This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear. And this huge castle, standing here sublime, I love to see the look with which it braves, Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time. The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, Housed, in a dream, at distance from the kind ! Such happiness, wherever it be known, Is to be pitied, for ' tis surely blind. But welcome fortitude and patient cheer. And frequent sights of what is to be borne ! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here ! — Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. William Wordsworth, 1805. O EE what a lovely shell, *^ Small and pure as a pearl, Lying close to my foot. Frail, but a work divine, Made so f airily well With delicate spire and whorl, How exquisitely minute, A miracle of design. 1 8 QUIET HOURS. What is it ? a learned man Could give it a clumsy name ! Let him name it who can, The beauty would be the same. The tiny cell is forlorn, Void of the Httle hving will That made it stir on the shore. Did he stand at the diamond door Of his house in a rainbow frill ? Did he push, when he was uncurled, A golden foot or a fairy horn Thro' his dim water-world ? Shght, to be crushed with a tap Of my finger-nail on the sand, Small, but a work divine, Frail, but of force to withstand. Year upon year, the shock Of cataract seas that snap The three-decker's oaken spine Athwart the ledges of rock, Here on the Breton strand. Alfred Tennyson. NATURE. 19 THE RECOLLECTION. TT 7E wandered to the pine forest ^ ' That skirts the ocean's foam ; The lightest wind was in its nest, The tempest in its home. The whispering waves were half asleep, The clouds were gone to play. And on the bosom of the deep The smile of Heaven lay ; It seemed as if the hour were one Sent from beyond the skies, Which scattered from above the sun A light of Paradise. II. We paused amid the pines that stood The giants of the waste, Tortured by storms to shapes as rude As serpents interlaced. And soothed by every azure breath, That under heaven is blown, To harmonies and hues beneath, As tender as its own ; Now all the tree-tops lay asleep, Like green waves on the sea, As still as in the silent deep The ocean- woods may be. QUIET HOURS. III. How calm it was ! — the silence there By such a chain was bound, That even the busy woodpecker Made stiller by her sound The inviolable quietness ; The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew. There seemed from the remotest seat Of the wide mountain waste, To the soft flower beneath our feet, A magic circle traced, A spirit interfused around, A thrilling silent life ; To momentary peace it bound Our mortal nature's strife ; — And still I felt the centre of The magic circle there, Was one fair form that filled with love The lifeless atmosphere. We paused beside the pools that lie Under the forest bough ; Each seemed as 't were a little sky Gulfed in a world below ; NATURE. 21 A firmament of purple light, Which in the dark earth lay, More boundless than the depth of night, And purer than the day — In which the lovely forests grew, As in the upper air, More perfect both in shape and hue Than any spreading there. There lay the glade and neighboring lawn, And through the dark-green wood The white sun twinkling like the dawn Out of a speckled cloud. Sweet views which in our world above Can never well be seen, Were imaged by the water's love Of that fair forest green : And all was interfused beneath With an Elysian glow, An atmosphere without a breath, A softer day below. Percy Bysshe Shelley. AN EVENING VOLUNTARY. COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOR AND BEAUTY. I. T TAD this effulgence disappeared -*- -^ With flying haste, I might have sent Among the speechless clouds, a look Of blank astonishment ; QUIET HOURS. But 't is endued with power to stay, And sanctify one closing day, That frail mortality may see — What is ? — ah no, but what can be ! Time was when field and watery cove With modulated echoes rang, While choirs of fervent angels sang Their vespers in the grove ; Or, crowning, star-Hke, each some sovereign height. Warbled, for heaven above and earth below, Strains suitable to both. — Such holy rite, Methinks, if audibly repeated now From hill or valley, could not move Sublimer transport, purer love. Than doth this silent spectacle — the gleam — The shadow and the peace supreme ! II. No sound is uttered, — but a deep And solemn harmony pervades The hollow vale from steep to steep. And penetrates the glades. Far-distant images draw nigh, Called forth by wondrous potency Of beamy radiance, that imbues Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues ! In vision exquisitely clear. Herds range along the mountain side; And gUstening antlers are descried, And gilded flocks appear. NA TURK. 23 Thine is the tranquil hour, purpurea! eve ! But long as god-liI