Istandon the cliff and watch the veiled sun palingA silver field afar in the mournful sea,The scourge of the surf, and plaintive gulls sailingAt ease on the gale that smites the shuddering lea:Whose smile severe and chasteJune never hath stirred to vanity, nor age defaced.In lofty thought strive, O spirit, for ever:In courage and strength pursue thine own endeavour.Ah! if it were only for thee, thou restless oceanOf waves that follow and roar, the sweep of the tides;Were’t only for thee, impetuous wind, whose motionPrecipitate all o’errides, and turns, nor abides:For you sad birds and fair,Or only for thee, bleak cliff, erect in the air;Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,O well should I understand the voice of Nature.But far away, I think, in the Thames valley,The silent river glides by flowery banks:And birds sing sweetly in branches that arch an alleyOf cloistered trees, moss-grown in their ancient ranks:Where if a light air stray,’Tis laden with hum of bees and scent of may.Love and peace be thine, O spirit, for ever:Serve thy sweet desire: despise endeavour.And if it were only for thee, entrancèd river,That scarce dost rock the lily on her airy stem,Or stir a wave to murmur, or a rush to quiver;Were’t but for the woods, and summer asleep in them:For you my bowers green,My hedges of rose and woodbine, with walks between,Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,O well should I understand the voice of Nature.

Istandon the cliff and watch the veiled sun paling

A silver field afar in the mournful sea,

The scourge of the surf, and plaintive gulls sailing

At ease on the gale that smites the shuddering lea:

Whose smile severe and chaste

June never hath stirred to vanity, nor age defaced.

In lofty thought strive, O spirit, for ever:

In courage and strength pursue thine own endeavour.

Ah! if it were only for thee, thou restless oceanOf waves that follow and roar, the sweep of the tides;Were’t only for thee, impetuous wind, whose motionPrecipitate all o’errides, and turns, nor abides:For you sad birds and fair,Or only for thee, bleak cliff, erect in the air;Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,O well should I understand the voice of Nature.

Ah! if it were only for thee, thou restless ocean

Of waves that follow and roar, the sweep of the tides;

Were’t only for thee, impetuous wind, whose motion

Precipitate all o’errides, and turns, nor abides:

For you sad birds and fair,

Or only for thee, bleak cliff, erect in the air;

Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,

O well should I understand the voice of Nature.

But far away, I think, in the Thames valley,The silent river glides by flowery banks:And birds sing sweetly in branches that arch an alleyOf cloistered trees, moss-grown in their ancient ranks:Where if a light air stray,’Tis laden with hum of bees and scent of may.Love and peace be thine, O spirit, for ever:Serve thy sweet desire: despise endeavour.

But far away, I think, in the Thames valley,

The silent river glides by flowery banks:

And birds sing sweetly in branches that arch an alley

Of cloistered trees, moss-grown in their ancient ranks:

Where if a light air stray,

’Tis laden with hum of bees and scent of may.

Love and peace be thine, O spirit, for ever:

Serve thy sweet desire: despise endeavour.

And if it were only for thee, entrancèd river,That scarce dost rock the lily on her airy stem,Or stir a wave to murmur, or a rush to quiver;Were’t but for the woods, and summer asleep in them:For you my bowers green,My hedges of rose and woodbine, with walks between,Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,O well should I understand the voice of Nature.

And if it were only for thee, entrancèd river,

That scarce dost rock the lily on her airy stem,

Or stir a wave to murmur, or a rush to quiver;

Were’t but for the woods, and summer asleep in them:

For you my bowers green,

My hedges of rose and woodbine, with walks between,

Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,

O well should I understand the voice of Nature.

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