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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354818" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Poet's Home</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HERE in this lonely rill-engirdled spot,<br>The world forgetting, by the world forgot,<br>With one vowed to me with beloved lips<br>How sweet to draw, as hiddenly from time,<br>As from its rocks yon shaded fountain slips,<br>My yet remaining prime.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here early rising from a sinless bed<br>How sweet it were to view Aurora shed<br>Her first white glances o’er the dusky wood,<br>When powdered as with pearls the sprays all gleam<br>Through the grey dawn, like prophecies of good<br>Or like some fairy dream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And while the clouds imbibed a golden hue,<br>And purple streaks grained yon ethereal blue,<br>By the glad voice of every early bird<br>(As some full lake by breezes in their glee<br>Is rippled into smiles) how sweetly stirred<br>My spirit then should be!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And as like burning bullion brightened still<br>The cloud-hung East, over yon misty hill<br>I’d watch the sun’s ethereal chariot come,<br>Filling the glades with flakes of chrystal fire<br>And the green spaces round my rural home,<br>Where slept mine Heart’s Desire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When, if sweet memories of her sleeping smile<br>Should my devotion thitherward beguile,<br>Cheating the morn of its observance due,<br>My happy voice should not be wanting long<br>To wile her forth with loving transport true<br>Or wake her with a song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Awake, my fair one! for the glowing skies<br>Desire thee, and a thousand flowery eyes<br>Look for thy coming from each pathway side;<br>With all things fresh and beautiful and bright<br>The earth’s adorned like an Eastern bride,—<br>Arise, my best delight!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What can be deeper than the heavens o’erbending,<br>Or what be richer than the colours blending<br>Amid the green cones of the misty hill!<br>What gladder than the runnel’s silvery fall!<br>And yet my spirit asketh something still—<br>’Tis thee, the crown of all!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joined by the Angel of my life, behold<br>The day’s unfolded gates of heavenly gold<br>How lovelier now for her dear loveliness!<br>The birds, the stream, the forest’s leafy stir<br>Catch from her voice a double power to bless,<br>And the flowers breathe of her!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dews are brighter for her love-bright eyes<br>And the air sweeter for the soul that lies<br>In every gesture of her gentle face!<br>So widely Love’s invisible spirit flings<br>The visible enrichment of its grace<br>O’er all regarded things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Filled with the fresh keen life that so sublimes<br>Both mind and body, we should then betimes<br>Repair us to our cheerful morning meal,<br>Not more attuned by thankfulness of heart<br>Well to enjoy, than willing in our weal<br>To spare a stranger part.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sufficed and grateful, to her household care<br>Should she betake her then,—I fieldward fare<br>To till the thriving maize or guide the plough<br>Through the rich loam, or while the slant sunshine<br>Carress’d them, to remark the melons, how<br>They lumped from out their vine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thence to the well kept orchard to behold<br>The orange trees o’erhung with globes of gold<br>Or thin the peachy tribes all ruddy cheeked<br>And clumping from the branches, and with these<br>The nectarine’s fragrant swarms so lushly streaked,<br>That flavour even the breeze:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To pluck the fig, that in its broad-leafed shade<br>Secretes its ripeness—even like a maid<br>Mature for love, who yet through bashfulness<br>Doth shun or seem to shun each wooer’s sight—<br>Or stay the drooping vine whose every tress<br>Is bunch’d with clusters bright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So should the noon draw on: when in yon shade<br>Beside the rill, on the green herbage laid<br>In careless luxury my faint limbs should be,<br>And hearing but the splash of feathered things<br>Then fluttering downward from some neighbouring tree<br>To dip their shining wings,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or the slow-rising and most summery hum<br>Of gorgeous insects that at times might come<br>Over the runnel and so voyage by,<br>Or the light footfall on the farther brink<br>Of some wild creature, from its covert nigh<br>Just venturing forth to drink:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I’d calmly think of all my wandering youth<br>Had suffered, with a heart so dear to Truth<br>That she at length had portioned it with love,<br>And then of her who to my very soul<br>Was what the vitalising Sun above<br>Is to the natural whole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus rested, when the fieryer-winged hours<br>Were quenching in the west, with freshened powers<br>The field again in honorable toil<br>Should hear me ending what the morn begun,<br>Till I might say, scanning the well-dressed soil,<br>A good day’s work is done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then whilst I woodward drove the unharnessed steer<br>Or for the kine was searching somewhere near<br>Grouping full-fed in ruminating mood,<br>The sun should ’light upon yon western hill<br>Slanting his last beams through the shadowing wood<br>And up the gleaming rill,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To sink at length and make the clouds above<br>Golden idealisms of the love<br>My heart poured out on Nature, and on her<br>Now waiting me at our peace-hallowed board:<br>Thus placed, who’d care amongst the great to stir<br>Or with the rich to hoard?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The pens secured, the final meal in haste<br>Despatch’d though savoury, both should forth to taste<br>Eve’s odorous breath and with renewed surprise<br>To find Elysiums painted in the west,<br>And looking then into each other’s eyes,<br>Should feel that we were blest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the gloaming followed Evening’s flight,<br>Whilst yet o’er yonder hills a skiey light<br>Keeps mellowing upward, near to where, first seen,<br>The glowing Leader of the starry quire<br>Comes wingedly from out the blue serene,<br>Even like a bird of fire,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hushing bounties of those twilight hours<br>Falling into our souls, as in the flowers’<br>Balm-breathing bosoms melt the silent dews,<br>Should freshen every feeling mild and wise<br>And thence o’er all our charities diffuse<br>The quiet of the skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus should the night come on, in solemn guise<br>To look with all her far ethereal eyes<br>Upon my happy life, and draw my soul<br>To wander like a star the stars among<br>And homeward point from the resplendent pole<br>Uranian beams of song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or whilst the moon, the world’s apparent queen,<br>Came whitening up in majesty serene,<br>Reminding us of some dear long-past night,<br>I’d chronicle in rhyme the many things<br>Of lovely thought that from her mystic light<br>Had woven them their wings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354818" data-title="A Poet's Home de Charles Harpur" data-description="HERE in this lonely rill-engirdled spot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot,
With one vowed to me with beloved lips
How sweet to draw, as hiddenly from time,
As from its rocks yon shaded fountain slips,
My yet remaining prime.

Here early r..."></div>
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