--
Thy long sustained Song finally clos'd,
And thy deep voice had ceas'd--yet thou thyself
Wert still before mine eyes, and round us both 120
That happy Vision of beloved Faces--
(All whom, I deepliest love--in one room all!
Thy long sustained Song finally clos'd,
And thy deep voice had ceas'd--yet thou thyself
Wert still before mine eyes, and round us both 120
That happy Vision of beloved Faces--
(All whom, I deepliest love--in one room all!
William Wordsworth
That way no more! and ill beseems it me, 90
Who came a Welcomer, in Herald's Guise,
Singing of Glory and Futurity,
To wander back on such unhealthful road
Plucking the Poisons of Self-harm! And ill
Such intertwine beseems triumphal wreaths 95
Strew'd before thy advancing! Thou too, Friend!
Impair thou not the memory of that hour
Of thy Communion with my nobler mind
By pity or grief, already felt too long!
Nor let my words import more blame than needs. 100
The tumult rose and ceas'd: for Peace is nigh
Where Wisdom's voice has found a list'ning Heart.
Amid the howl of more than wintry storms
The Halcyon hears the Voice of vernal Hours,
Already on the wing!
Eve following Eve 105
Dear tranquil Time, when the sweet sense of Home
Is sweetest! Moments, for their own sake hail'd,
And more desired, more precious for thy Song!
In silence listening, like a devout child,
My soul lay passive, by the various strain 110
Driven as in surges now, beneath the stars
With momentary [B] stars of her [C] own birth,
Fair constellated Foam, still darting off
Into the Darkness; now a tranquil Sea,
Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the Moon. 115
And when--O Friend! my Comforter! my [D] Guide!
Strong in thyself and powerful to give strength!
--
Thy long sustained Song finally clos'd,
And thy deep voice had ceas'd--yet thou thyself
Wert still before mine eyes, and round us both 120
That happy Vision of beloved Faces--
(All whom, I deepliest love--in one room all! )
Scarce conscious and yet conscious of its close
I sate, my Being blended in one Thought,
(Thought was it? or aspiration? or resolve? ) 125
Absorb'd; yet hanging still upon the Sound--
And when I rose, I found myself in Prayer.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
'Jany'. 1807.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Different reading on same MS. :
'To one cast forth, whose Hope had seem'd to die. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote B: Compare, as an illustrative note, the descriptive passage
in Satyrane's first Letter in 'Biographia Literaria', beginning, "A
beautiful white cloud of foam," etc. --S. T.