Classic Poem

I SEE this eve—o'er these familiar fields—
The sky grow blue: thy transient opal shines:
I see thine amethyst and opal deep,
Thou sky of God, and all thy West aflame!
Ensanguined clouds across that gleaming vault
Sail in the wind of sunset. Splendours bright,
Your tinctures perish while I watch, but one
Shines in achievement, in lone beauty shines.

The world unfolds in front, now cloud-involved:
Is that the early moon within the mist
Which I see southward, like a phantom light,
Hang in a rainy sky? Chirps one weak bird:
From wold and woodland, as in dream, the day—
A pallid death withdraws. The bleak wind stirs
Complaining trees. Far winds the path I take:
It is one voice invites, one star which leads,
One hope which shines through all …
The wide meads stretch:
Lo, all the West behind me suddenly
Glows newly: how the blue sky clears o'erhead!
It is not night, nor seems it evening yet;
A spring sun shines, and like a tocsin beats
The heart of youth through all the smiling land.
Sing on, thou lark! O'er all these open fields
The long grass glitters in the light and wind.
Thou wind, sing on; thou clear, discoursing stream,
Make gladsome music! Neither storm nor gloom
Are round me now. Fair winds the path I take;
Spring buds of bushes upon both its banks
Are bursting forth …
And I shall see thy face—
Because the dream supports me, I shall see
Thy face once more. Thou wilt not fail me, nay,
The quest shall finish as it starts perchance:
This sun descending—now with vapours veil'd—
Spreads light on miles of mead and marsh, immersed
In April floods. The hedges and the trees—
Which out of waters rise—cast lengthening shades
Along the gleaming surface; all around
I hear the gentle lapse of little brooks,
While not more cool than fragrant turns awhile
The South's soft air.