In Nature's Ebb and Flow

The Mountains -- grow unnoticed --
Their Purple figures rise
Without attempt -- Exhaustion --
Assistance -- or Applause --

In Their Eternal Faces
The Sun -- with just delight
Looks long -- and last -- and golden --
For fellowship -- at night --

O World, I cannot hold thee close enough!
    Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
  Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour!  That gaunt crag
To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
              But never knew I this;
              Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, -- Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, -- let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Dark hills at evening in the west,
Where sunset hovers like a sound
Of golden horns that sang to rest
Old bones of warriors under ground,
Far now from all the bannered ways
Where flash the legions of the sun,
You fade -- as if the last of days
Were fading, and all wars were done.

Who thought of the lilac?
 . . . . . . . . . .

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