As dew of the night-time, o'er the summer grass?

3

Doth o'er us pass, when, as th' expanding eye

To the lov'd object—so the tear to the lid

Will start, which lately slept in apathy?

And yet it need not be—(that object) hid

From us in life—but common—which doth lie

Each hour before us—but then only bid

With a strange sound, as of a harp-string broken

T' awake us—'Tis a symbol and a token.

4

Of what in other worlds shall be—and giv'n

In beauty by our God, to those alone

Who otherwise would fall from life and Heav'n

Drawn by their heart's passion, and that tone,

That high tone of the spirit which hath striv'n

Tho' not with Faith—with godliness—whose throne

With desp'rate energy 't hath beaten down;

Wearing its own deep feeling as a crown.

(1827)