Classic Poem

I stand on the cliff and watch the veiled sun paling
— A silver field afar in the mournful sea,
The scourge of the surf, and plaintive gulls sailing
— At ease on the gale that smites the shuddering lea:
Whose smile severe and chaste
— June never hath stirred to vanity, nor age defaced.
In lofty thought strive, O spirit, for ever:
In courage and strength pursue thine own endeavour.

Ah! if it were only for thee, thou restless ocean
— Of waves that follow and roar, the sweep of the tides;
Wer't only for thee, impetuous wind, whose motion
— Precipitate all o'errides, and turns, nor abides:
For you sad birds and fair,
— Or only for thee, bleak cliff, erect in the air;
Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,
O well should I understand the voice of Nature.

But far away, I think, in the Thames valley,
— The silent river glides by flowery banks:
And birds sing sweetly in branches that arch an alley
— Of cloistered trees, moss-grown in their ancient ranks:
Where if a light air stray,
— 'Tis laden with hum of bees and scent of may.
Love and peace be thine, O spirit, for ever:
Serve thy sweet desire: despise endeavour.

And if it were only for thee, entranced river,
— That scarce dost rock the lily on her airy stem,
Or stir a wave to murmur, or a rush to quiver;
— Wer't but for the woods, and summer asleep in them:
For you my bowers green,
— My hedges of rose and woodbine, with walks between,
Then well could I read wisdom in every feature,
O well should I understand the voice of Nature.