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Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) Love of the Country Welcome silence! welcome peace! O most welcome, holy shade! Thus I prove as years increase, My heart and soul for quiet made. Thus I fix my firm belief While rapture's gushing tears descend; That every flower and every leaf Is moral Truth's unerring friend. I would not for a world of gold That Nature's lovely face should tire; Fountain of blessings yet untold; Pure source of intellectual fire! Fancy's fair buds, the germs of song, Unquicken'd midst the world's rude strife, Shall sweet retirement render strong, And morning silence bring to life. Then tell me not that I shall grow Forlorn, that fields and woods will cloy; From Nature and her changes flow An everlasting tide of joy. I grant that summer heats will burn, That keen will come the frosty night; But both shall please: and each in turn Yield Reason's most supreme delight. Build me a shrine, and I could kneel To Rural Gods, or prostrate fall; Did I not see, did I not feel, That one GREAT SPIRIT governs all. O heav'n permit that I may lie Where o'er my corse green branches ware; And those who from life's tumult fly With kindred feelings press my grave. Robert Bloomfield's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1389 |
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