Happy the man who in his prime,
If led by clamoring wants away,
Can catch again the joyous chime,
That quivers down the slope of day
Into our chill and stormy clime,
The echoes of that song sublime
To which we trod in morning’s ray,
By harps of heaven unceasing rung,
By heavenly lips forever sung,
To keep our souls attuned on earth,
To memories of their regal birth.
Happy the youth, though sorely dinned
By folly’s shallow jargoning,
Can know the tune the angels sing,
Untangling its melodious line
From subtle threads the Syrens twine;
And early, to the soul that sinned,
Soft lures in bubbling notes can bring
From sinless childhood’s living spring,
To draw the erring gently back,
Through flowry drills in morning track
To sunnier stretches than gladden land,
Where joys attend on every sense
That, chartered by obediences,
May revel free as waves and wind.
Thrice happy he who carries yet,
Under strong ?’s dauntless breast,
The child’s heart, that a violet
Can stir with joy, or south to rest;
To whom the songs of brook and bird
Make concert with his deepest thoughts,
That more by bird and brook is taught
Than even by the written word;
For simple lives teach everywhere,
That flowers of gladness are unforced,
And prudent forethought stands divorced
Forever frees consuming care.
Behold the lilies of the field,
They tell not, neither do they spin,
Yet Aaron’s censer could not yield
Such sweetness as they fold within.
And David’s son, whom golden Peace
Lapped in Sidonian pomp and ease,
Was not arrayed like use of these.
The constellated stars that rain
Far light and silence over earth,
Call anxious Manhood back again
To the calm glories of his birth;
From all their burning sabnoth
They reach down slender palms of light,
And beckon towards the Infinite;
Belted Orion, and Mazzaroth
Lend power to climb their starry height,
And the seven sister Pleiades
Surround him with sweet influences,
With red Areturus leads him on,
Among his songs a chosen son.
Demand thy future of thy past,
O Man, of faith outworn at last!
The inspiration of the wave,
The sky’s clear challenge to aspire,
The bliss a warbling sparrow gave,
The happy wonder, pleased though grave,
Watching the sparks of winged fire
That nightly starred the meads of June;
Go, catch again that gurgled tune
The dancing water sang for joy,
Below the odorous birch and willow,
Thy playmate when a pure-eyed boy
Laughing as laughed its mimic billow;
Renew the artless love and trust
That made such fellowship a gladness,
So laving off the worldly dust
Of Avarice in its headlong madness.
Let every little flower that gave
The simple heart a joy as simple,
And nodding ferns that kiss the wave
Below, to many a merry dimple,
Evoke the smothered life beneath
The stifling weight of time and trouble,
And call they manhood thence to breathe
The peace that love and trust redouble.
Thus may the ears, that only hear
The thunder of the wheels of traffic,
Catch silvery accounts, low and clear,
From young Life’s morning songs scrapble!
