Even when the waves are wearied out with toil,
And in their caverns swoon the winds away,
A thousand germs break through the yielding soil,
And bees and blossoms charm the drowsy day.
In stillest calms, when Nature's self doth seem
Sick for the far-off rest, the work goes on
In deep old forests, like a silent dream,
And sparry caves, that never knew the dawn.
From step to step, through long and weary time,
The struggling atoms rise in Nature's plan,
Till dust instinctive reaches mind sublime—
Till lowliest being finds its bloom in Man!
Here, on the borders of that Realm of Peace,
The gathered burdens of existence rest,
And like a sea whose surges never cease,
Heaves with its care the weary human breast.
Oh! bright effulgence of th' Eternal Power,
Break the worn band, and wide thy portals roll!
With silent glory flood the solemn hour
When star-eyed slumber welcomes back the soul!
Then shall the spirit sink in rapture down,
Like some rich blossom drunk with noontide's beam,
Or the wild bliss of music, sent to crown
The wakening moment of a midnight dream.
Through all the luminous seas of ether there,
Stirs not a trembling wave, to break the rest;
But fragrance, and the silent sense of prayer,
Charm the eternal slumber of the Blest!