XLV.—THE CHERWELL WATER-LILY.FABER.
FABER.
1. How often doth a wild flower bringFancies and thoughts that seem to springFrom inmost depths of feeling!Nay, often they have power to blessWith their uncultured loveliness,And far into the aching breastThere goes a heavenly thought of restWith their soft influence stealing.How often, too, can ye unlock,Dear wild flowers, with a gentle shock,The wells of holy tears!While somewhat of a Christian lightBreaks sweetly on the mourner’s sight,To calm unquiet fears!Ah! surely such strange power is givenTo lowly flowers like dew from heaven;For lessons oft by them are brought,Deeper than mortal sage hath taught,Lessons of wisdom pure, that riseFrom some clear fountains in the skies.2. Fairest of Flora’s lovely daughtersThat bloom by stilly running waters,Fair lily! thou a type must beOf virgin love and purity!Fragrant thou art as any flower,That decks a lady’s garden-bower.But he who would thy sweetness knowMust stoop and bend his loving browTo catch thy scent, so faint and rare,Scarce breathed upon the summer air.And all thy motions, too, how free,And yet how fraught with sympathy!So pale thy tint, so meek thy gleam,Shed on thy kindly father-stream!Still, as he swayeth to and fro,How true in all thy goings,As if thy very soul did knowThe secrets of his flowings.3. And then that heart of living gold,Which thou dost modestly infold,And screen from man’s too searching view,Within thy robe of snowy hue!To careless man thou seem’st to roamAbroad upon the river,In all thy movements chain’d to home,Fast-rooted there forever:Link’d by a holy, hidden tie,Too subtle for a mortal eye,Nor riveted by mortal art,Deep down within thy father’s heart.4. Emblem in truth thou art to meOf all a daughter ought to be!How shall I liken thee, sweet flower,That other men may feel thy power,May seek thee on some lovely night,And say how strong, how chaste the might,The tie of filial duty,How graceful, too, and angel bright,The pride of lowly beauty!Thou sittest on the varying tideAs if thy spirit did preside,With a becoming, queenly grace,As mistress of this lonely place:A quiet magic hast thou nowTo smooth the river’s ruffled brow,And calm his rippling water,And yet, so delicate and airy,Thou art to him a very fairy.A widowed father’s only daughter.
1. How often doth a wild flower bringFancies and thoughts that seem to springFrom inmost depths of feeling!Nay, often they have power to blessWith their uncultured loveliness,And far into the aching breastThere goes a heavenly thought of restWith their soft influence stealing.How often, too, can ye unlock,Dear wild flowers, with a gentle shock,The wells of holy tears!While somewhat of a Christian lightBreaks sweetly on the mourner’s sight,To calm unquiet fears!Ah! surely such strange power is givenTo lowly flowers like dew from heaven;For lessons oft by them are brought,Deeper than mortal sage hath taught,Lessons of wisdom pure, that riseFrom some clear fountains in the skies.2. Fairest of Flora’s lovely daughtersThat bloom by stilly running waters,Fair lily! thou a type must beOf virgin love and purity!Fragrant thou art as any flower,That decks a lady’s garden-bower.But he who would thy sweetness knowMust stoop and bend his loving browTo catch thy scent, so faint and rare,Scarce breathed upon the summer air.And all thy motions, too, how free,And yet how fraught with sympathy!So pale thy tint, so meek thy gleam,Shed on thy kindly father-stream!Still, as he swayeth to and fro,How true in all thy goings,As if thy very soul did knowThe secrets of his flowings.3. And then that heart of living gold,Which thou dost modestly infold,And screen from man’s too searching view,Within thy robe of snowy hue!To careless man thou seem’st to roamAbroad upon the river,In all thy movements chain’d to home,Fast-rooted there forever:Link’d by a holy, hidden tie,Too subtle for a mortal eye,Nor riveted by mortal art,Deep down within thy father’s heart.4. Emblem in truth thou art to meOf all a daughter ought to be!How shall I liken thee, sweet flower,That other men may feel thy power,May seek thee on some lovely night,And say how strong, how chaste the might,The tie of filial duty,How graceful, too, and angel bright,The pride of lowly beauty!Thou sittest on the varying tideAs if thy spirit did preside,With a becoming, queenly grace,As mistress of this lonely place:A quiet magic hast thou nowTo smooth the river’s ruffled brow,And calm his rippling water,And yet, so delicate and airy,Thou art to him a very fairy.A widowed father’s only daughter.
1. How often doth a wild flower bringFancies and thoughts that seem to springFrom inmost depths of feeling!Nay, often they have power to blessWith their uncultured loveliness,And far into the aching breastThere goes a heavenly thought of restWith their soft influence stealing.How often, too, can ye unlock,Dear wild flowers, with a gentle shock,The wells of holy tears!While somewhat of a Christian lightBreaks sweetly on the mourner’s sight,To calm unquiet fears!Ah! surely such strange power is givenTo lowly flowers like dew from heaven;For lessons oft by them are brought,Deeper than mortal sage hath taught,Lessons of wisdom pure, that riseFrom some clear fountains in the skies.
1. How often doth a wild flower bring
Fancies and thoughts that seem to spring
From inmost depths of feeling!
Nay, often they have power to bless
With their uncultured loveliness,
And far into the aching breast
There goes a heavenly thought of rest
With their soft influence stealing.
How often, too, can ye unlock,
Dear wild flowers, with a gentle shock,
The wells of holy tears!
While somewhat of a Christian light
Breaks sweetly on the mourner’s sight,
To calm unquiet fears!
Ah! surely such strange power is given
To lowly flowers like dew from heaven;
For lessons oft by them are brought,
Deeper than mortal sage hath taught,
Lessons of wisdom pure, that rise
From some clear fountains in the skies.
2. Fairest of Flora’s lovely daughtersThat bloom by stilly running waters,Fair lily! thou a type must beOf virgin love and purity!Fragrant thou art as any flower,That decks a lady’s garden-bower.But he who would thy sweetness knowMust stoop and bend his loving browTo catch thy scent, so faint and rare,Scarce breathed upon the summer air.And all thy motions, too, how free,And yet how fraught with sympathy!So pale thy tint, so meek thy gleam,Shed on thy kindly father-stream!Still, as he swayeth to and fro,How true in all thy goings,As if thy very soul did knowThe secrets of his flowings.
2. Fairest of Flora’s lovely daughters
That bloom by stilly running waters,
Fair lily! thou a type must be
Of virgin love and purity!
Fragrant thou art as any flower,
That decks a lady’s garden-bower.
But he who would thy sweetness know
Must stoop and bend his loving brow
To catch thy scent, so faint and rare,
Scarce breathed upon the summer air.
And all thy motions, too, how free,
And yet how fraught with sympathy!
So pale thy tint, so meek thy gleam,
Shed on thy kindly father-stream!
Still, as he swayeth to and fro,
How true in all thy goings,
As if thy very soul did know
The secrets of his flowings.
3. And then that heart of living gold,Which thou dost modestly infold,And screen from man’s too searching view,Within thy robe of snowy hue!To careless man thou seem’st to roamAbroad upon the river,In all thy movements chain’d to home,Fast-rooted there forever:Link’d by a holy, hidden tie,Too subtle for a mortal eye,Nor riveted by mortal art,Deep down within thy father’s heart.
3. And then that heart of living gold,
Which thou dost modestly infold,
And screen from man’s too searching view,
Within thy robe of snowy hue!
To careless man thou seem’st to roam
Abroad upon the river,
In all thy movements chain’d to home,
Fast-rooted there forever:
Link’d by a holy, hidden tie,
Too subtle for a mortal eye,
Nor riveted by mortal art,
Deep down within thy father’s heart.
4. Emblem in truth thou art to meOf all a daughter ought to be!How shall I liken thee, sweet flower,That other men may feel thy power,May seek thee on some lovely night,And say how strong, how chaste the might,The tie of filial duty,How graceful, too, and angel bright,The pride of lowly beauty!Thou sittest on the varying tideAs if thy spirit did preside,With a becoming, queenly grace,As mistress of this lonely place:A quiet magic hast thou nowTo smooth the river’s ruffled brow,And calm his rippling water,And yet, so delicate and airy,Thou art to him a very fairy.A widowed father’s only daughter.
4. Emblem in truth thou art to me
Of all a daughter ought to be!
How shall I liken thee, sweet flower,
That other men may feel thy power,
May seek thee on some lovely night,
And say how strong, how chaste the might,
The tie of filial duty,
How graceful, too, and angel bright,
The pride of lowly beauty!
Thou sittest on the varying tide
As if thy spirit did preside,
With a becoming, queenly grace,
As mistress of this lonely place:
A quiet magic hast thou now
To smooth the river’s ruffled brow,
And calm his rippling water,
And yet, so delicate and airy,
Thou art to him a very fairy.
A widowed father’s only daughter.