What seraph on the wings of light
Can bear a charm like thee?
And where, in fancy’s wide domain,
Can fitter grandeur be?
Behold thy shadows on the sky,
Thy glory in the sun;
And o’er the earth, as light as air,
Thy fairy footsteps run.
I see thee in the smiling morn
And in the glowing noon,
Thy sparkling brightness in the stars,
Thy beauties in the moon.
I see thy bark go gliding on
O’er all the mighty seas.
I hear thy voice upon the storm,
And gentler on the breeze,
Comes thrilling with the warbling notes
The lark pours out on high,
And in the blackbird’s evening song
Flows to my pathway nigh;
Comes with the brooklet’s murmuring voice,
And from the ocean wave,
Which Neptune in his choice sees fit
Upon the shore to lave.
I hear the rude, prosaic law
Pour out its vile abuse,
In earnest with its bitter vice
My fancy to seduce.
Yet let the sceptic whet his scythe,
Thy beauties to deplore;
So shall I love them fonder still,
And seek thy presence more.
The proud revilers who employ
Their tongues as poisoned darts
I deem of rude, unpolished taste,
Uncouth and shallow hearts.