My pensive SARA! thy soft cheek reclined

Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is

To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown

With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle,

(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)

And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,

Slow saddenning round, and mark the star of eve

Serenely brilliant (such should Wisdom be)

Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents

Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world so hush'd!

The stilly murmur of the distant Sea

Tells us of silence.

 

And that simplest Lute,

Plac'd length-ways in the clasping casement, hark!

How by the desultory breeze caress'd,

Like some coy maid half-yielding to her lover,

It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs

Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now, its strings

Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes

Over delicious surges sink and rise,

Such a soft floating witchery of sound

As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve

Voyage on gentle gales from Faery-Land,

Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers,

Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,

Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untam'd wing!

O! the one Life within us and abroad,

Which meets all motion and becomes its soul,

A light in sound, a sound-like power in light,

Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where -

Methinks, it should have been impossible

Not to love all things in a world so fill'd ;

Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air

Is Music slumbering on her instrument.

 

And thus, my Love! as on the midway slope

Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon,

Whilst thro' my half-clos'd eye-lids I behold

The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,

And tranquil muse upon tranquility ;

Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd,

And many idle flitting phantasies,

Traverse my indolent and passive brain,

As wild and various, as the random gales

That swell and flutter on this subject Lute!

And what if all of animated nature

Be but organic Harps diversly fram'd,

That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps

Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,

At once the Soul of each, and God of all?

But thy more serious eye a mild reproof

Darts, O belovéd Woman! nor such thoughts

Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject,

And biddest me walk humbly with my God.

Meek Daughter in the Family of Christ!

Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd

These shapings of the unregenerate mind ;

Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break

On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring.

For never guiltless may I speak of him,

The Incomprehensible! save when with awe

I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels ;

Who with his saving mercies healéd me,

A sinful and most miserable man,

Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess

Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honour'd Maid!