Page:Poems Welby.djvu/24

Up, where the morning stars once sang together,
 To pour the fullness of thine own rich song;
And now thou'rt mirrored to my dazzled view,
A little dusky speck amid a world of blue.

Yet I will shade mine eye and still pursue thee,
 As thou dost melt in soft ethereal air.
Till angel-ones, sweet bird, will bend to view thee,
 And cease their hymns awhile thine own to share;
And there thou art, with light clouds round thee furled,
Just poised beneath yon vault, that arches o'er the world.

A free wild spirit unto thee is given,
 Bright minstrel of the blue celestial dome!
For thou wilt wander to yon upper heaven,
 And bathe thy plumage in the sunbeam's home;
And, soaring upward from thy dizzy height
On free and fearless wing, be lost to human sight.

Lute of the summer clouds! whilst thou art singing
 Unto thy Maker thy soft matin hymn,
My own mild spirit, from its temple springing,
 Would freely join thee in the distance dim;
But I can only gaze on thee and sigh
With heart upon my lip, bright minstrel of the sky!

And yet, sweet bird! bright thoughts to me are given
 As many as the clustering leaves of June;
And my young heart is like a harp of heaven,
 For ever strung unto some pleasant tune;