Sonnet: 9

We think of what we might have been: the stream
Was crystal at its fountain, — though it flowed
Without that strong, deep current, still it glowed
Beneath a brighter sky, and gay the beam
Played on its dancing waters, as we dream
In sunny climes of fairy-land, where blows
In never-fading hues the living rose,
Where myrtles shed their fragrance, and we seem,
Such is the luxury of feeling there,
The kindling energy our souls inhale,
Ourselves a portion of the balmy air, —
So flowed the stream of life, as through the vale
It threw its unstained waters from the spring,
And with its freshness wet the zephyr's silent wing.

But while the scanty rill stole through the glen
In peaceful playfulness, it chanced to meet
The turbid torrent of the wide world; beat
By rushing floods, its shores re-echoed; then
In its devouring vortex sucked, again
To be no more the pure, unmingled stream,
We hurried down the steep, which most men deem
The only path to pleasure, but the den
Lies at the bottom, where Remorse has built
Her iron walls, wherein the boiling surge,
Whirled round and round with all the rage of guilt,
The ever-rushing past will madly urge;
For in the heart where sense and passion dwell,
Erelong will heave the flood of such a restless hell.

But there are some more silent, calm, and slow;
Through temperate climes they take their steady way;
Their wave scarce ruffled by the ripple's play,
Enlarging through the wide, rich plain they flow,
While brooks on brooks uniting swell it so,
At length it rolls a river broad and deep;
In calmest light the tranquil waters sleep,
And there in gallant trim proud vessels go,
And moving like a swan along the tide,
With cleaving prow, and wide-extended wing,
And oary arms, the bounding wave they ride,
And as their canvas to the gale they fling,
In stately march they walk the liquid plain,
And down the widening stream plough to the deep blue main,

The boundless hall of ocean: — Life the shore,
The only shore, it spreads and spreads for ever,
And though the bark sail onward, it can never
Traverse the unlimited expanse, — its floor
Inlaid with blue and green and gold, as rise
Its lifted waves, its canopy the skies,
The ever-glowing sun its lamp, the roar
Of seas its music, and the sun-lit sparkle
Of curling foam, the phosphorescent glow
That flashes when at night the waters darkle,
The pearls and gems and sands and ores that strow
Its pavement, — 't is the home of majesty,
The palace and the shrine, where dwells eternity.
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