I
With thoughtful brow, and head depressed,
As one within whose bosom dwelt
A conscious Soul that could not rest,
Restrained and soothed, yet heard and felt;
A grey-haired seer reclined among
The autumnal woods, as if he were
A portion of the boughs that flung
Their leafy glories round him there.
II
And as he watched them tint the ground,
In their rich ruins round him spread,
Or blessed them in their beauty crowned,
Ere sunk to earth and joined the dead;
He read in Nature's silent show
The speaking mirror held, that said, —
" These types are given thee to know
That autumn's life, like thine, is sped."
III
And then that aged Man knelt on
The grass, and looked up to the sky;
The light that from the present shone,
Revealed the future to his eye;
The child of Nature's self was he;
Whene'er her loneliest paths he trod,
He ever thus had bowed the knee,
And poured his spirit forth to God.
IV
For he had gathered while he mused
Faiths taught by Nature through all time;
The sun its calm in him infused;
The hills their fixedness sublime;
From vale and wood his strengthening thought
Had concentrated power; and he
Progression's grandest tones had caught
From Voices of the eternal Sea.
V
He gazed along the horizon's verge,
The clouds upon their thrones reposed;
The winds upraised their solemn dirge
As o'er the grave of Nature closed;
He saw her like himself obey
The law ordained, the purpose shown;
And, while he sighed o'er her decay,
He looked within, and felt his own.
VI
His locks, retiring now, were white,
That once in darkening tresses rolled,
The brow was pale, the eye, once bright,
Was dimmed, as one whom time controlled;
He thought of all that he had been,
And was no more; and felt that he
Had nothing left of strength within,
Beyond his heart's humility.
VII
" And why dost thou repine, faint soul!
At what thou see'st, oh, why repine?
Canst thou not grief as joy control,
While watching ruins that are thine?
They lived as thou; they felt a joy
In sun or breeze's fitful will;
Their being nothing can destroy;
Changed, vanished, lost, but living still.
VIII
" Thou saw'st, through earth's material form,
The Shadow from behind her thrown;
In calm of rest, in action's storm,
The voice was heard, the presence known;
The spirit with the substance joined;
The life that still the mirror bare
Before the vision of the mind,
That showed the God reflected there.
IX
And then to Him didst thou confess
The amount of all thy knowledge won
Was counted up in nothingness;
The soul's great progress still begun;
That, child-like, upon Nature's breast
Is man to dwell; the Titan power
Accorded, but the arm repressed,
Till failed its strength, and lapsed the hour.
X
And then he sighed — " I would have been
A joyous, thoughtless thing; a life
That had passed by, unheard, unseen,
Nor with thee set itself in strife,
Eternal Being! in thy breath
Existing, pure, and calm, and free;
My blessedness through life and death
Reflecting Nature's self in Thee!
With thoughtful brow, and head depressed,
As one within whose bosom dwelt
A conscious Soul that could not rest,
Restrained and soothed, yet heard and felt;
A grey-haired seer reclined among
The autumnal woods, as if he were
A portion of the boughs that flung
Their leafy glories round him there.
II
And as he watched them tint the ground,
In their rich ruins round him spread,
Or blessed them in their beauty crowned,
Ere sunk to earth and joined the dead;
He read in Nature's silent show
The speaking mirror held, that said, —
" These types are given thee to know
That autumn's life, like thine, is sped."
III
And then that aged Man knelt on
The grass, and looked up to the sky;
The light that from the present shone,
Revealed the future to his eye;
The child of Nature's self was he;
Whene'er her loneliest paths he trod,
He ever thus had bowed the knee,
And poured his spirit forth to God.
IV
For he had gathered while he mused
Faiths taught by Nature through all time;
The sun its calm in him infused;
The hills their fixedness sublime;
From vale and wood his strengthening thought
Had concentrated power; and he
Progression's grandest tones had caught
From Voices of the eternal Sea.
V
He gazed along the horizon's verge,
The clouds upon their thrones reposed;
The winds upraised their solemn dirge
As o'er the grave of Nature closed;
He saw her like himself obey
The law ordained, the purpose shown;
And, while he sighed o'er her decay,
He looked within, and felt his own.
VI
His locks, retiring now, were white,
That once in darkening tresses rolled,
The brow was pale, the eye, once bright,
Was dimmed, as one whom time controlled;
He thought of all that he had been,
And was no more; and felt that he
Had nothing left of strength within,
Beyond his heart's humility.
VII
" And why dost thou repine, faint soul!
At what thou see'st, oh, why repine?
Canst thou not grief as joy control,
While watching ruins that are thine?
They lived as thou; they felt a joy
In sun or breeze's fitful will;
Their being nothing can destroy;
Changed, vanished, lost, but living still.
VIII
" Thou saw'st, through earth's material form,
The Shadow from behind her thrown;
In calm of rest, in action's storm,
The voice was heard, the presence known;
The spirit with the substance joined;
The life that still the mirror bare
Before the vision of the mind,
That showed the God reflected there.
IX
And then to Him didst thou confess
The amount of all thy knowledge won
Was counted up in nothingness;
The soul's great progress still begun;
That, child-like, upon Nature's breast
Is man to dwell; the Titan power
Accorded, but the arm repressed,
Till failed its strength, and lapsed the hour.
X
And then he sighed — " I would have been
A joyous, thoughtless thing; a life
That had passed by, unheard, unseen,
Nor with thee set itself in strife,
Eternal Being! in thy breath
Existing, pure, and calm, and free;
My blessedness through life and death
Reflecting Nature's self in Thee!