tit .ikularh.
1IA.n. to thee, blithe spirit I
Bird thou never wert.
That frOm heaven, or near it.
Pourest thy full heart
In profase ·stra.ina of unpremeditated art.
Higher still and higher,
From the earth thou apringeat
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou win~est,
And ainging still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
O'er which clouds are brightening,
Thou doat float and run ;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begnu.
The pale purple even
Melts around thy fiight;
l.ike a star of heaven,
In the broad claylight
Thou art unseen, but yet I bear thy shrill delight..
Keen as are tl1e arrows
Of that silver sphere,
Whose iuteuse lamp n&rrowa
lri the white dawn clear,
Until we hardly see, we feel that it ia there.
All tbe earth and air
With thy voice is loud,
.All, when night is bare 1
From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflv,Ye.l.
"Whnt thou a.rt we know not ;
What'is most like thee 1
From ra.inbow cloucle thel'e flow not
Drops so bright to see,
A..a from thy presence sbowet·s a rain of melody.
Like a poet bidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns nnbidllen,
Till the world is wrought.
'J.'o sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: