The Clear Vision

I DID but dream. I never knew

What charms our sternest season wore.

Was never yet the sky so blue,

Was never earth so white before.

Till now I never saw the glow

Of sunset on yon hills of snow,

And never learned the bough’s designs

Of beauty in its leafless lines.

Did ever such a morning break

As that my eastern windows see?

Did ever such a moonlight take

Weird photographs of shrub and tree?

Rang ever bells so wild and fleet

The music of the winter street?

Was ever yet a sound by half

So merry as yon school-boy’s laugh?

O Earth! with gladness overfraught,

No added charm thy face hath found;

Within my heart the change is wrought,

My footsteps make enchanted ground.

From couch of pain and curtained room

Forth to thy light and air I come,

To find in all that meets my eyes

The freshness of a glad surprise.

Fair seem these winter days, and soon

Shall blow the warm west-winds of spring,

To set the unbound rills in tune

And hither urge the bluebird’s wing.

The vales shall laugh in flowers, the woods

Grow misty green with leafing buds,

And violets and wind-flowers sway

Against the throbbing heart of May.

Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own

The wiser love severely kind;

Since, richer for its chastening grown,

I see, whereas I once was blind.

The world, O Father! hath not wronged

With loss the life by Thee prolonged;

But still, with every added year,

More beautiful Thy works appear!

As Thou hast made thy world without,

Make Thou more fair my world within;

Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;

Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;

Fill, brief or long, my granted span

Of life with love to thee and man;

Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest,

But let my last days be my best!

2d mo., 1868.

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