Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
  PREVIOUS NEXT  
CONTENTS      BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD


TO THE MOON

COMPOSED BY THE SEASIDE,--ON THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND

          WANDERER! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so near
          To human life's unsettled atmosphere;
          Who lov'st with Night and Silence to partake,
          So might it seem, the cares of them that wake;
          And, through the cottage-lattice softly peeping,
          Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping;
          What pleasure once encompassed those sweet names
          Which yet in thy behalf the Poet claims,
          An idolizing dreamer as of yore!--
          I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore              10
          Sole-sitting, only can to thoughts attend
          That bid me hail thee as the SAILOR'S FRIEND;
          So call thee for heaven's grace through thee made known
          By confidence supplied and mercy shown,
          When not a twinkling star or beacon's light
          Abates the perils of a stormy night;
          And for less obvious benefits, that find
          Their way, with thy pure help, to heart and mind;
          Both for the adventurer starting in life's prime;
          And veteran ranging round from clime to clime,              20
          Long-baffled hope's slow fever in his veins,
          And wounds and weakness oft his labour's sole remains.
            The aspiring Mountains and the winding Streams,
          Empress of Night! are gladdened by thy beams;
          A look of thine the wilderness pervades,
          And penetrates the forest's inmost shades;
          Thou, chequering peaceably the minster's gloom,
          Guid'st the pale Mourner to the lost one's tomb;
          Canst reach the Prisoner--to his grated cell
          Welcome, though silent and intangible!--                    30
          And lives there one, of all that come and go
          On the great waters toiling to and fro,
          One, who has watched thee at some quiet hour
          Enthroned aloft in undisputed power,
          Or crossed by vapoury streaks and clouds that move
          Catching the lustre they in part reprove--
          Nor sometimes felt a fitness in thy sway
          To call up thoughts that shun the glare of day,
          And make the serious happier than the gay?
            Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright                40
          Dost rouse, yet surely in thy own despite,
          To fiercer mood the phrenzy-stricken brain,
          Let me a compensating faith maintain;
          That there's a sensitive, a tender, part
          Which thou canst touch in every human heart,
          For healing and composure.--But, as least
          And mightiest billows ever have confessed
          Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea
          Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty;
          So shines that countenance with especial grace              50
          On them who urge the keel her 'plains' to trace
          Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude,
          Cut off from home and country, may have stood--
          Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye,
          Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh--
          Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer,
          With some internal lights to memory dear,
          Or fancies stealing forth to soothe the breast
          Tired with its daily share of earth's unrest,--
          Gentle awakenings, visitations meek;                        60
          A kindly influence whereof few will speak,
          Though it can wet with tears the hardiest cheek.
            And when thy beauty in the shadowy cave
          Is hidden, buried in its monthly grave;
          Then, while the Sailor, 'mid an open sea
          Swept by a favouring wind that leaves thought free,
          Paces the deck--no star perhaps in sight,
          And nothing save the moving ship's own light
          To cheer the long dark hours of vacant night--
          Oft with his musings does thy image blend,                  70
          In his mind's eye thy crescent horns ascend,
          And thou art still, O Moon, that SAILOR'S FRIEND!
                                                              1835.


CONTENTS      BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD


  PREVIOUS NEXT  
 
Loading
Click here to shop the Bartleby Bookstore.

Shakespeare · Bible · Strunk · Anatomy · Nonfiction · Quotations · Reference · Fiction · Poetry
© 1993–2014 Bartleby.com · [Top 150] · Subjects · Titles · Authors