Truth

I. The merry morn is waking In all its rosy light, While fogs and dreams are taking Flight, with the drowsy night; Soft eyelashes and roses Open with hope new-born, And everything discloses The happy touch of morn. And everything is singing A morning hymn to love, Flowers and tendrils springing To greet the trees above; The streams speak to the fountains, The breezes to the pines, The clouds unto the mountains, The grapes unto the vines. One throbbing pulse is shaking All Nature’s mighty frame,— The child its toys retaking, The ember’d grate its flame; Love, and folly, and madness, Petty aims, and grand, And fame, and hope, and gladness— To each one what he plann’d. Still, whether loving or sighing, In the bridal garb or pall, We’re only drifting, flying To the final goal of all: We all seek what is ours,— A lad the joys of youth, A bee the daintiest flowers, Whilst I am seeking truth! II. O Truth! with deep devotion I’ve plunged in depths profound, And sought thee in the ocean Where’er the plummets sound; Tho’ fogs and mists may bind thee, And shoals and sand-banks mock, We’re sure at last to find thee, As firm, as hard as rock! O Truth! broad-breasted river Which never can be dry, Where all may bathe for ever, And swim, or sink and die; A lamp the great God places Near all our mortal things, A light that always graces The thoughts a pure mind brings! A gnarled tree in flower, Where strength and beauty blend, Which each man, to his power, Shall either break or bend; ’Midwide-spread branches flinging Their shade, when day has sunk, Some to the branches clinging, And others to the trunk. A hill from which all floweth, A path which all have trod, A gulf to which all goeth— The handiwork of God! A star we’re still blaspheming, Altho’, on nearer view, After wild doubts and dreaming, We’ll know its ray was true. III. O Earth! lit up with splendor At sunset and sunrise, With gorgeous hues yet tender To suit our mortal eyes! Shores where waves are dying! Woods where soft winds play! O vast horizon! lying Round all things far away, O glorious azure veiling The gulf, till all is still; Where idly floating, sailing Where’er the breezes will, I ’mid the reeds conceal me, And list with all my soul To what the waves reveal me In their majestic roll! O glorious azure smiling On all, from skies above, Each wearied soul beguiling To dreams and thoughts of love; And, while we’re dreaming, seeking To read the mystic spell, That murmuring winds are speaking, That starry pages tell. O mighty ocean wreathing, And girdling all the earth! Stars which the Master’s breathing Call’d to their fiery birth! Flowers whose hidden meaning We crush beneath our feet, Tho’ God, perchance, is gleaning Honey from every sweet! O valleys rich in May-time! O woodland shades and plains! Where village towers in play-time Ring out their merry strains; Hillocks and mountains bearing The vast skies on your breasts! Bright stars a gay smile wearing Amid your gloomy nests!— You are but one book’s pages Where all may read and learn: Where poets and where sages May see what most they yearn: Yet every thought unfurl’d there Requires a mystic rod, Tho’ some eyes see a world there, And some souls find a God. A Book which is completed By virtuous deeds alone; Where youthful dreams are greeted By feelings still unknown; Where those whom age has smitten With wrinkled brows yet vast, Have in the margin written “Behold us come at last!” A holy book concealing All deeds which God has done; A thousand names revealing And yet revealing one— A name that always leavens Whate’er we hold of worth, But one name in the heavens, But one name on the earth. A sure book, never failing, For all may drink its balm, Tho’ midnight seers are paling Before they find its charm; Pythagoras nearly guess’d it, And Moses knew it well, And all have loved and bless’d it, When once they learn’d the spell.