I. A Glory On The Chamber Wall! A Glory In The Brain! Triumphant Floods Of Glory Fall On Heath, And Wold, And Plain. Earth Lieth Still In Hopeless Bliss; She Has, And Seeks No More; Forgets That Days Come After This, Forgets The Days Before. Each Ripple Waves A Flickering Fire Of Gladness, As It Runs; They Laugh And Flash, And Leap And Spire, And Toss Ten Thousand Suns. But Hark! Low, In The World Within, One Sad Aeolian Tone: "Ah! Shall We Ever, Ever Win A Summer Of Our Own?" Ii. A Morn Of Winds And Swaying Trees-- Earth'S Jubilance Rushing Out! The Birds Are Fighting With The Breeze; The Waters Heave About. White Clouds Are Swept Across The Sky, Their Shadows O'Er The Graves; Purpling The Green, They Float And Fly Athwart The Sunny Waves. The Long Grass--An Earth-Rooted Sea-- Mimics The Watery Strife. To Boat Or Horse? Wild Motion We Shall Find Harmonious Life. But Whither? Roll And Sweep And Bend Suffice For Nature'S Part; But Motion To An Endless End Is Needful For Our Heart. Iii. The Morn Awakes Like Brooding Dove, With Outspread Wings Of Gray; Her Feathery Clouds Close In Above, And Roof A Sober Day. No Motion In The Deeps Of Air! No Trembling In The Leaves! A Still Contentment Everywhere, That Neither Laughs Nor Grieves! A Film Of Sheeted Silver Gray Shuts In The Ocean'S Hue; White-Winged Feluccas Cleave Their Way In Paths Of Gorgeous Blue. Dream On, Dream On, O Dreamy Day, Thy Very Clouds Are Dreams! Yon Child Is Dreaming Far Away-- He Is Not Where He Seems. Iv. The Lark Is Up, His Faith Is Strong, He Mounts The Morning Air; Lone Voice Of All The Creature Throng, He Sings The Morning Prayer. Slow Clouds From North And South Appear, Black-Based, With Shining Slope; In Sullen Forms Their Might They Rear, And Climb The Vaulted Cope. A Lightning Flash, A Thunder Boom!-- Nor Sun Nor Clouds Are There; A Single, All-Pervading Gloom Hangs In The Heavy Air. A Weeping, Wasting Afternoon Weighs Down The Aspiring Corn; Amber And Red, The Sunset Soon Leads Back To Golden Morn.