Classic Poem

Sweet day, that openest fair to sight
With gentle floods of early light,
And calm cool winds that pass and fleet
On softly-stepping viewless feet,
I give my heart up unto thee
And float upon thy glad-waved sea.
Unto what isles of better hope,
What mountain-tops of loftier scope,
What vales of grassy low content
Where life in simplest joy is spent,
What intercourse with flood and rill,
What knowledge of the clouds that fill
With cheerful concourse the blue sky,
What chance to dare, what deed to try,
What poet's fancy to unroll,
What leap to learning's utmost pole,
The point of sight and vantage-ground
From whence all mystery is found
In clearest regulation bound,
What sympathy with nature's heart,
Wilt thou unto my soul impart?
The glassy width of mountain lake,
Wherein the tall trees ever take
Miraculous bath, and while on high
They spread their branches to the sky
And know the secret of the sun,
Yet downward still the images run
And bathe themselves within the realm
Where spirit sits beside the helm,
As man looks forth upon the earth
Yet knows his inner higher worth,
The shapes of leaves that show the stress
Of nature's toiling kindliness,
The shadows woven across the trees,
Imagination's witcheries,
The outer show and symbol glad
Of joys the watchful guardians bade
Be given to poets as their lot,
Dream following dream of the Unforgot,
The century-old shapes of desire
Girt by the glow of wondrous fire,
Wilt thou the secret of all these,
That sound within thine every breeze,
Yea more, the mysteries of the mind
That with each human breath resigned
Into thy keeping, make thy sphere
The fluent home of hope and fear,
Wilt thou endeavor to make plain
Unto me, hearkening every strain
That pulsates from thine east and west
And throbs thy sky's benignant breast?
For I would say some slender part,
Not wholly with quaint rustic art,
But fashion for mankind to hear
One faultless song, one dome uprear,
Of precious sound that crystalline
And pure of stain might glow and shine
Upon the age's restless sea,
So wrought of love's high minstrelsy,
That outpoured love of the after-world
Should keep it safe, nor see it whirled
To dark deeps of oblivion,
Being born of joy and deftly spun
Of the eterne substance of the sun.
Above the body's clamorous weight,
That heavy is with sloth and hate,
I rise into the region glad
Where sweet discourse with thee is had,
The region fine and spiritual,
Where all division is but thrall
To deeper union, and the power
Is seen of love, whence like a flower
Of flowers in manifesting clear
The universe is born, and fear
Perishes like an altar smoke
Against the lofty roof-groins broke.
I see the soul of everything,
And from that vision joy to sing;
And you, O world, may stand to know
What meanings through my new song flow,
The song upon my lips alit,
Born of clear fire, and bold with it,
A bird not seen yet among men,
A miracle past common ken,
An unconsuming winged flame
That from mid-heaven's most purest came,
A rose of birds, a flower of song,
Bird-like and flower-like, strange and strong,
And saying with voice most utter true,
The new in the old, and old in new,
The secret poets have ever sung,
Why the round earth in air is swung,
Why planets glow with borrowed light,
And blossom stars strew all the night,
Why rivers murmur as they go,
And the great winds blow to and fro,
What marvellous motions toss and roll
Within the bounds of boundless soul.
O day, I mix myself with thee,
And in thy freedom, too, am free,
And from my lips I soon shall pour
The throng of words that more and more
May bring all listening hearts to thrill
With passions that their music fill,
And men forget their sore dismay,
Born into glow of the New Day.