WHEN a wild grace I see, A turn o' the neck, a curl, sweet hands, clear eyes, Gentleness, courtesy, dignity; In all these gifts Thee I surmise, surprise. All beauty and delight: Skin like a rose, a beauteous shape, an air Free and enchanting, give my weary sight Glimpses of Thee, Thou Beauty past compare. Strength, courage also are Thine, And joy of youth and wings that cleave the blue, Low singing and soft voices: I divine In these Thy beauty ancient yet ever new. O, when my startled eye Perceives this beauty league-long, sea and isle And eagle-crested mountains wild and high, I catch Thy Maker's thought—I see Thy smile. Some mirror out of range Flashes reflex of Heaven on this sweet earth, Brooding for ever, beautiful, without change, The bluebell sea, the thousand streams' soft mirth. All beauty is of Thee: Kindness and quietness, moon and stars and sun, Gardens and woods, the bird in the new-fledged tree, And sleep, O Kindest One! |