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Poem by Charles Kingsley
Ye mountains, on whose torrent-furrowed slopes, And bare and silent brows uplift to heaven, I envied oft the soul which fills your wastes Of pure and stern sublime, and still expanse Unbroken by the petty incidents Of noisy life: Oh hear me once again! Winds, upon whose racked eddies, far aloft, Above the murmur of the uneasy world, My thoughts in exultation held their way: Whose tremulous whispers through the rustling glade Were once to me unearthly tones of love, Joy without object, wordless music, stealing Through all my soul, until my pulse beat fast With aimless hope, and unexpressed desire- Thou sea, who wast to me a prophet deep Through all thy restless waves, and wasting shores, Of silent labour, and eternal change; First teacher of the dense immensity Of ever-stirring life, in thy strange forms Of fish, and shell, and worm, and oozy weed: To me alike thy frenzy and thy sleep Have been a deep and breathless joy: Oh hear! Mountains, and winds, and waves, take back your child! Upon thy balmy bosom, Mother Nature, Where my young spirit dreamt its years away, Give me once more to nestle: I have strayed Far through another world, which is not thine. Through sunless cities, and the weary haunts Of smoke-grimed labour, and foul revelry My flagging wing has swept. A mateless bird's My pilgrimage has been; through sin, and doubt, And darkness, seeking love. Oh hear me, Nature! Receive me once again: but not alone; No more alone, Great Mother! I have brought One who has wandered, yet not sinned, like me. Upon thy lap, twin children, let us lie; And in the light of thine immortal eyes Let our souls mingle, till The Father calls To some eternal home the charge He gives thee.
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