| |
| LONG hath she slept, forgetful of delight: | |
| At last, at last, the enchanted princess, Earth, | |
| Claim’d with a kiss by Spring the adventurer, | |
| In slumber knows the destined lips, and thrilled | |
| Through all the deeps of her unageing heart | 5 |
| With passionate necessity of joy, | |
| Wakens, and yields her loveliness to love. | |
| |
| O ancient streams, O far-descended woods | |
| Full of the fluttering of melodious souls; | |
| O hills and valleys that adorn yourselves | 10 |
| In solemn jubilation; winds and clouds, | |
| Ocean and land in stormy nuptials clasp’d, | |
| And all exuberant creatures that acclaim | |
| The Earth’s divine renewal: lo, I too | |
| With yours would mingle somewhat of glad song. | 15 |
| I too have come through wintry terrors,—yea, | |
| Through tempest and through cataclysm of soul | |
| Have come, and am deliver’d. Me the Spring, | |
| Me also, dimly with new life hath touch’d, | |
| And with regenerate hope, the salt of life; | 20 |
| And I would dedicate these thankful tears | |
| To whatsoever Power beneficent, | |
| Veil’d though his countenance, undivulged his thought, | |
| Hath led me from the haunted darkness forth | |
| Into the gracious air and vernal morn, | 25 |
| And suffers me to know my spirit a note | |
| Of this great chorus, one with bird and stream | |
| And voiceful mountain,—nay, a string, how jarr’d | |
| And all but broken! of that lyre of life | |
| Whereon himself, the master harp-player, | 30 |
| Resolving all its mortal dissonance | |
| To one immortal and most perfect strain, | |
| Harps without pause, building with song the world. | |
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