From the dewy grass upspringing--
From my wing the pearl-drops flinging--
Upward, with exultant singing,
Let me--let me fly!
Sun, with gemmed and flashing banners,
List my rapturous hosannas--
As I mount, on circling wing,
Higher, o'er the fragrant meadow,--
O'er the forest's broken shadow,--
O'er the hill-tops green and golden,--
Where the ivied ruins olden
Echo out with sudden gladness
As I break their brooding sadness
With the lays I sing!
Joy, joy!--I have caught the song
Of the angels that sit above!--
And warble in musical chorus alway
Those notes that oftentimes earthward stray
So tenderly sweet at the fall of day,
What time the rose-bud's trembling spray
Thrills with their lays of love!--
Joy, joy!--I have caught the song
Of bright ones that sit above!--
And the far-off Earth's a forgotten thing,
As I mount on free and fetterless wing,
Up to the sun-fields where they sing,
Drawn on by their soul of love!
Hush! is it a voice of Earth--
Of the far-away Earth, I hear?
Breathing of the fragrant meadow,--
Of the drooping willow's shadow,--
Of the breezes' gentle sighing,--
Of the brooklet's low replying,--
Of the blue, o'er-arching heaven,--
Of the violet-curtained even,--
Of the tender, dreamy starlight,--
Of the hushed, majestic midnight?--
And through all that murmur so sad and low,
Meanings of passionate anguish flow,
Till I feel a weight on my glancing wing
Bearing me earthward while yet I sing,
With its burden of heavy woe.
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