Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/88

O'er the blue heavens, whene’er those stars I call,
"Present"—they say, and shine out one and all.
I place my hands on clouds with sombre forms,
And from their flanks wring out the latent storms.
Cities I bury in huge piles of sand,
Mountains o'erturn by winds at my command,
My feet ne'er tire when travelling through space,
At my nod rivers change their wonted place,
Ocean itself is silent at my voice,
I make thine Israel in his griefs rejoice.
When he requires new laws, or ease from pains,
I look up unto Thee. Thy Spirit deigns
To visit me; earth trembles to its source
And the sun starts affrighted from its course.
Angels admire me, jealous seem, and fear,
And yet, good Lord, I am not happy here.
Mighty and lonely from, alas! my birth,
Now let me sleep the sleep of all the earth.


'Thy breath inspired the shepherds soul,—men saw
And thought me more than man, and fled in awe.
Bent low their eyes before mine eyes of flame,
For there they saw what thoughts within me came.
I've seen Love die, and Friendship quench his light,
And virgins veil themselves, or faint with fright.
And thus enveloped in a sable cloud,
Alone and sad, I marched before the crowd.
"O lonely heart," I said, "what wilt thou now?
Upon no breast may'st thou e'er lean thy brow,
Thy hand leaves fear upon the hand it meets,
Lightnings and storms on thy lips fix their seats,
Men cannot love thee,—see, they tremble all,
Thou openest arms, and on their knees they fall."