Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE ENTHUSIAST; AN ODE, by WILLIAM WHITEHEAD Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Once - I remember well the day Last Line: That man was made for man. Subject(s): Life | ||||||||
ONCE, I remember well the day, 'Twas ere the blooming sweets of May Had lost their freshest hues, When every flower on every hill, In every vale, had drunk its fill Of sunshine and of dews. 'Twas that sweet season's loveliest prime When Spring gives up the reins of time To Summer's glowing hand, And doubting mortals hardly know By whose command the breezes blow Which fan the smiling land. 'Twas then beside a green-wood shade Which cloth'd a lawn's aspiring head I urg'd my devious way, With loitering steps, regardless where, So soft, so genial was the air, So wond'rous bright the day. And now my eyes with transport rove O'er all the blue expansive grove, Unbroken by a cloud! And now beneath delighted pass, Where, winding through the deep-green grass, A full-brimm'd river flow'd. I stop, I gaze; in accents rude To thee, serenest Solitude, Burst forth th' unbidden lay: Begone, vile world; the learn'd, the wise, The great, the busy, I despise, And pity e'en the gay. These, these are joys alone, I cry, 'Tis here, divine Philosophy, Thou deign'st to fix thy throne! Here, contemplation points the road Thro' Nature's charms to Nature's God! These, these, are joys alone! Adieu, ye vain, low-thoughted cares, Ye human hopes, and human fears, Ye pleasures, and ye pains! -- While thus I spake, o'er all the soul A philosophic calmness stole, A Stoic stillness reigns. The tyrant passions all subside, Fear, anger, pity, shame, and pride, No more my bosom move. Yet still I felt, or seem'd to feel A kind of visionary zeal Of universal love. When lo! a voice! a voice I hear! 'Twas Reason whisper'd in my ear These monitory strains: What mean'st thou, man? would'st thou unbind The ties which constitute thy kind, The pleasures and the pains? The same Almighty Power unseen, Who spreads the gay or solemn scene To Contemplation's eye: Fix'd every movement of the soul, Taught every wish its destined goal, And quicken'd every joy. He bids the tyrant passions rage, He bids them war eternal wage, And combat each his foe: Till from dissensions concord rise, And beauties from deformities, And happiness from woe. Art thou not man? and dar'st thou find A bliss which leans not to mankind? Presumptuous thought and vein! Each bliss unshar'd is unenjoy'd, Each power is weak, unless employ'd Some social good to gain. Some light, and shade, and warmth, and air, With those exalted joys compare Which active virtue feels. When on she drags, as lawful prize, Contempt, and Indolence, and Vice, At her triumphant wheels. As rest to labour still succeeds, To man, while Virtue's glorious deeds Employ his toilsome day, This fair variety of things Are merely life's refreshing springs To soothe him on his way. Enthusiast, go, unstring the lyre; In vain thou sing'st if none admire, How sweet soe'er the strain; And is not thy o'erflowing mind, Unless thou mixest with thy kind, Benevolent in vain? Enthusiast, go, try every sense; If not thy bliss, thy excellence Thou yet hast learn'd to scan; At least thy wants, thy weakness know, And see them all uniting show, That man was made for man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRIVILEGE OF BEING by ROBERT HASS SEAWATER STIFFENS CLOTH by JANE HIRSHFIELD SAYING YES TO LIVING by DAVID IGNATOW THE WORLD IS SO DIFFICULT TO GIVE UP by DAVID IGNATOW A PATHETIC APOLOGY FOR ALL LAUREATS, PAST, PRESENT, AND TO COME by WILLIAM WHITEHEAD |
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