YON woodland, like a human mind, Hath many a phase of dark and bright: Now dim with shadows, wandering blind, Now radiant with fair shapes of light. They softly come, they softly go, Capricious as the vagrant wind, Nature's vague thoughts in gloom or glow, That leave no airiest trace behind. No trace, no trace! yet wherefore thus Do shade and beam our spirit's stir? Ah! Nature may be cold to us, But we are strangely moved by her. The wild bird's strain, the breezy spray, Each hour with sure earth-changes rife Hint more than all the sages say, Or poets sing of death and life. For truths half drawn from Nature's breast, Through subtlest types of form and tone, Outweigh what man, at most, hath guessed While heeding his own heart alone. And midway, betwixt heaven and us, Stands Nature in her fadeless grace, Still pointing to our Father's house, His glory on her mystic face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF MY DEAR SON [GERVASE BEAUMONT] by JOHN BEAUMONT THE HEART OF A WOMAN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LOST CHORD by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER SIT DOWN SAD SOUL by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER CRADLE SONG (TO A TUNE OF BLAKE'S): 2 by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE CITY OF ORGIES by WALT WHITMAN THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |