The sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent light: The breath of the moist air is light Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight, -- The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods', -- The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. I see the Deeps' untrampled floor With green and purple sea-weeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown: I sit upon the sands alone; The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, -- How sweet, did any heart now share in my emotion! Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within no calm around, Nor that Content surpassing wealth The sage in meditation found, And walked with inward glory crowned, -- Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround; Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. Yet now despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan; They might lament, -- for I am one Whom men love not, -- and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. |