Not least, ’t is ever my delight
To drink the early morning light;
To take the air upon my tongue
And taste it while the day is young.
So let my solace be the breath
Of morning, when I move to death.
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Lighter than dandelion down,
Or feathers from the white moth’s wing,
Out of the gates of bramble-town
The silkweed goes a-gypsying.Too fair to fly in autumn’s rout,
All winter in the sheath it lay;
But now, when spring is pushing out,
The zephyr calls, “Away! away!”Through mullein, bramble, brake, and fern,...
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As one advances up the slow ascent
Along the pathway in the woods, the trees
Change aspect, nor alone in this, but change
In stature and in power till Solitude
Seems cut out of the ancient forest. Here
Was Solitude! where man had lived of old,
Loved, serving God, and built himself a home.
Man smooths an acre on the rolling earth,
... -
I Dare not think that thou art by, to stand
And face omnipotence so near at hand!
When I consider thee, how must I shrink;
How must I say, I do not understand,
I dare not think!I cannot stand before the thought of thee,
Infinite Fulness of Eternity!
So close that all the outlines of the land
Are lost,—in the inflowing...