English

I CANNOT see. Gone now is all that brightness
That was the moon between unclouding leaves.
Among wet boughs I wander as one sightless,
A breathing, moving tree
That of the nightly dew his life receives.
Eyes might no sharper beauty bring to me
Than smell, touch, hearing leaf'd with sudden energy.

It is the earth I snuff, the rooted trees
Breathing as I breathe now at every cell:
The earth I hear, sleep-moving in slow, ease
After the long, long day:
The earth I touch, when the brush'd brambles spill

When , marshall'd on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky,
One star alone, of all the train,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks—
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,
The storm was loud, the night was dark,
The ocean yawn'd, and rudely blow'd
The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;

The wind has thrown
The boldest of trees down.
Now disgraced it lies,
Naked in spring beneath the drifting skies,
Naked and still.

It was the wind
So furious and blind
That scourged half England through,
Ruining the fairest where most fair it grew
By dell and hill,

And springing here,
The black clouds dragging near,
Against this lonely elm
Thrust all his strength to maim and overwhelm
In one wild shock.

As in the deep
Satisfaction of dark sleep
The tree her dream dreamed on,

At Number One dwelt Captain Drew,
George Benson dwelt at Number Two,
(The street we'll not now mention:)
The latter stunn'd the King's Bench bar,
The former, being lamed in war,
Sang small upon a pension.

Tom Blewit knew them both: than he
None deeper in the mystery
Of culinary knowledge;
From turtle soup to Stilton cheese,
Apt student, taking his degrees
In Mrs. Rundell's college.

Benson to dine invited Tom:
Proud of an invitation from
A host who “spread so nicely,

'Mid sterner losses let us own this gain—
An infant this will evermore remain:
Those other, should they reach life's longer date,
In them the coming will obliterate
The past; and we shall what they were forget,
Our eyes upon their later semblance set;
But this remaineth an eternal child.
Might sorrow for a little be beguiled,
Even with this thought a soothing fancy brings!
Her image has escaped the flux of things,
And that same infant beauty which she wore
Is fixed upon her now for evermore—
The everlasting garment fresh and new

Away with Death—away
With all her sluggish sleeps and chilling damps,
Impervious to the day,
Where nature sinks into inanity!
How can the soul desire
Such hateful nothingness to crave,
And yield with joy the vital fire
To moulder in the grave?
Yet mortal life is sad,
Eternal storms molest its sullen sky;
And sorrows ever rife
Drain the sacred fountain dry—
Away with mortal life!
But, hail the calm reality,
The seraph Immortality!
Hail the heavenly bowers of peace,

Why should I blush to own I love?
'Tis love that rules the realms above.
Why should I blush to say to all,
That virtue holds my heart in thrall?

Why should I seek the thickest shade,
Lest Love's dear secret be betray'd?
Why the stern brow deceitful move,
When I am languishing with love?

Is it weakness thus to dwell
On passion that I dare not tell?
Such weakness I would ever prove;
'Tis painful, though 'tis sweet to love.

There is a star in yonder sky,
Above all stars it seems to shine,
'Tis long since first it fixed my eye,
And I have learned to call it mine.

It rose out of my own blue sea,
Then passed above those mountains green,
Moving all placidly,
As if it loved to watch the scene.

Far up the heavens it floated slow,
Gleaming across yon solemn tower,
As if it loved the scene below;—
A willing lingerer hour by hour.

It seemed to take its place each night,
As sentinel to guard my rest,

Imprison me you Traytors? must I be
Your fetter'd slave, while you're at liberty
T'usurp my Scepter, and to make my power
Gnaw its own bowels, and it self devour?
You glorious villains! Treasons that have been
Done in all ages, are done ore agen;
Expert proficients, that have far out-done
Your Tutors Presidents, and have out-run
The practice of all times, whose acts will be
Thought Legendary by Posterity
Was't not enough you made me bear the wrong
Of a rebellious sword, and viprous tongue,

The Son of God in mighty love,
Came down to Bethlehem for me;
Forsook his throne of light above,
An infant upon earth to be.

In love, the Father's sinless child
Sojourned at Nazareth for me;
With sinners dwelt the undefiled,
The Holy One in Galilee.

Jesus, whom angel-hosts adore,
Became a man of griefs for me;
In love, though rich, becoming poor,
That I though him enriched might be.

Though Lord of all, above, below,
He went to Olivet for me;
There drank my cup of wrath and woe,