This leaning tree with ivy overhung

This leaning tree with ivy overhung
This crooked brook oer which is rudely flung
A slender plank that bends beneath the feet
& that small hill the shepherds summer seat
Make up a picture to the mind & wear
A nobler gild than pallace walls can heir
To me the wild wind dashes oer the scene
Enchantments shades of vivifying green
I see her sketchy pensil in her hand
Painting the moving scene to fairey land
That black birds music from the hazel bower
Turns into golden drops this summer shower
To think the rain that wets his sutty wing
Should wake the gushes of his soul to sing
Hark at the melody how rich & loud
Like daylight breaking through the morning cloud
How luscious through that sea of green it floats
Knowest thou of music breathed from sweeter notes
Than that wild minstrel of the summer shower
Breathes at this moment from that hazel bower
To me the anthem of a thousand tongues
Were poor & idle to the simple songs
Of that high toned & edifying bird
That sings to nature by itself unheard

There is a language wrote on earth & sky
By Gods own pen in silent majesty
There is a voice thats heard & felt & seen
In springs young shades & summers endless green
There is a book of poesy & spells
In which that voice in sunny splendour dwells
There is a page in which that voice aloud
Speakst music to the few & not the crowd
Though no romantic scenes my feet hath trod
The voice of nature as the voice of God
Appeals to me in every tree & flower
Breathing his glory magnitude & power
In natures open book I read & see
Beautys rich lesson in this seeming pea
Crowds see no majic in the trifling thing
'Pshaw tis a weed & millions came with spring
I hear rich music where so eer I look
But heedless worldlings chide the brawling brook
& that small lark between me & the sky
Breaths sweetest strains of mornings melody
Yet by the heedless crowd tis only heard
As the small warbling of a common bird
That oer the plough teams hails the morning sun
They see no music from such majic won
Yet I see melody in natures laws
Or do I dream—still wonder bids me pause
I pause & hear a voice that speaks aloud
Tis not on earth nor in the thunder cloud
The many look for sound tis silence speaks
& song like sunshine from her rapture breaks
I hear it in my bosom ever near
Tis in these winds & they are every where
It casts around my vision majic spells
& makes earth heaven where poor fancy dwells
I read its language & its speech is joy
So without teaching when a lonely boy
Each weed to me did happy tidings bring
Plain as the daisey wrote the name of spring
& Gods own language unto nature given
Seemed universal as the light of heaven
& common as the grass upon the plain
That all may read & meet with joy again
Save the unheeding heart who like the tomb
Shuts joy in darkness & forbids its bloom
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