Earth, new create, with rosy blush stepped forth,
Robed in green and gold, and purple and blue.
She was fair and beautiful. None knew her worth,
Nor half her sweet charms, until there flew,
From heaven down, a lovely spirit new,
With dew-besprinkled wings, and harp, who gazed
On her long, enraptured, until he knew
Her every grace. Then his voice seraphic raised.
Sweeping the strings of gold, and all her beauty praised.
Sweetly he sings of her at dawn of day,
When, crown-like, o'er her floating, golden hair,
A curling wreath of rosy mist doeth lay
Lightly coiled and softly resting there;
Making her, if that might be, still more fair.
Oft at evening-time he sings when he dips
His oar, and, floating out, he pauses where,
Under the faintly beaming stars, she sips
The dewy nectar twilight holds to her sweet lips.
At night his voice is heard when wrapped within
Her sapphire robes, and gently lulled to rest
By balmy sleep; when Luna sheds her thin
Silvery rays that, halo-like, invest
Her form, lingering fondly on her breast.
His voice is heard when the fierce storm unfurls
Its dark streaming banners; and she, hard pressed,
Sways, weeps, and moans with dread, when it curls
About her, and she feels the fiery darts it hurls.
He sings of her in every changeful mood,
When, spring-like, she bubbles over with song;
And later on, becoming more subdued,
As the ripening wine of life becomes more strong
Within her veins, he still his strains prolong,
Until, in vestments of purple and gold,
And russet-red and brown, she glides along
Through winter's freezing blast and snowy cold
To dance and smile again in springtime as of old.
Thus Poesy and Nature have passed
Down through the long dim ages hand in hand
Both loving and beloved, until at last,
By the will of all, now wedded they stand,
Indissolubly joined by Time's command.
And ever through the misty halls of Time
His strains shall swell more high, more sweet and grand,
Reaching the distant verge of every clime,
Filling with melody e'en heaven's high arch sublime.
