Poems (Cary)/Aspirations

For works with similar titles, see Aspiration.
​
ASPIRATIONS.
The temples, palaces and towers Of the old time, I may not see;Nor 'neath my reverend tread, thy flowers Bend meekly down, Gethsemane!
By Jordan's wave I may not stand, Nor climb the hills of Galilee;Nor break, with my poor, sinful hand, The emblems of apostacy.
Nor pitch my tent 'neath Salem's sky, As faith's impassioned fervor bids;Nor hear the wild bird's startled cry, From Egypt's awful pyramids.
I have not stood, and may not stand, Where Hermon's dews the blossoms feed;Nor where the flint-sparks light the sand, Beneath the Arab lancer's steed.
Woe for the dark thread in my lot, That still hath kept my feet awayFrom pressing toward the hallowed spot, Where Mary and the young child lay.
​
But the unhooded soul may track Even as it will, the dark or light,From noontide's sunny splendors, back To the dead grandeur of old night.
And even I, by visions led, The Arctic wastes of snow may stem;The Tartars' black tents view, or tread Thy gardens, oh Jerusalem!
O'er Judah's hills may travel slow, Or ponder Kedron's brook beside,Or pluck the reeds that overgrow The tomb which held the Crucified.
And does not He, who planned the bliss Above us, hear the praise that springsFrom every dust-pent chrysalis, That feels the stirring of its wings?
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.