composed at clevedon, somersetshire

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined



Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is



To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o’ergrown



With white-flowered Jasmin, and the broad-leaved Myrtle,



(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)



And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,



Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve



Serenely brilliant (such would Wisdom be)



Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents



Snatched from yon bean-field! and the world so hushed!



The stilly murmur of the distant Sea



Tells us of silence.







And that simplest Lute,



Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark!



How by the desultory breeze caressed,



Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover,



It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs



Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now, its strings



Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes



Over delicious surges sink and rise,



Such a soft floating witchery of sound



As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve



Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land,



Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers,



Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,



Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing!



O! the one Life within us and abroad,



Which meets all motion and becomes its soul,



A light in sound, a sound-like power in light,



Rhythm in all thought, and joyance everywhere—



Methinks, it should have been impossible



Not to love all things in a world so filled;



Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air



Is Music slumbering on her instrument.







And thus, my Love! as on the midway slope



Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon,



Whilst through my half-closed eyelids I behold



The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,



And tranquil muse upon tranquility:



Full many a thought uncalled and undetained,



And many idle flitting phantasies,



Traverse my indolent and passive brain,



As wild and various as the random gales



That swell and flutter on this subject Lute!







And what if all of animated nature



Be but organic Harps diversely framed,



That tremble into thought, as o’er them sweeps



Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,



At once the Soul of each, and God of all?







But thy more serious eye a mild reproof



Darts, O beloved Woman! nor such thoughts



Dim and unhallowed dost thou not reject,



And biddest me walk humbly with my God.



Meek Daughter in the family of Christ!



Well hast thou said and holily dispraised



These shapings of the unregenerate mind;



Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break



On vain Philosophy’s aye-babbling spring.



For never guiltless may I speak of him,



The Incomprehensible! save when with awe



I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels;



Who with his saving mercies healèd me,



A sinful and most miserable man,



Wildered and dark, and gave me to possess



Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honored Maid!













