AYE, have we not felt it and known, Ere Science proclaimed it her own, That form is but visible tone? Behold, where in silence was drowned The last fleeting echo of sound, The rainbow -- its blossom -- is found; While anon, with a verdurous sweep From the mountain-side, wooded and steep, Swells the chorus of deep unto deep, That the trumpet flowers, flame-flashing, blow Till the lilies enkindled below Swoon pale into passion, like snow! Yea, Love, of sweet Nature the Lord, Hath fashioned each manifold chord To utter His visible Word, Whose work, wheresoever begun, Like the rays floating back to the Sun, In the soul of all beauty is @3one@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLIDAY AT HAMPTON COURT by JOHN DAVIDSON THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE SPARROW by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHEN I'M KILLED by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A BATTLE BALLAD TO GENERAL J.E. JOHNSTON by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR |