A POET'S PASSION. 



O would that I could slake 



My thirst at yon bright star ! 

 O would that I triumphantly could take 

 My journey on yon planet's flaming car, 

 And give my eager and enraptured ears 

 The music of the spheres ! 



O thou mysterious deep ! 



So strong, so bold, so wide ; 

 No mortal arm, nor monarch's power, can keep, 

 From flowing in full billows, thy proud tide ! 

 O would that I thy caverns could explore, 

 And find again the shore ! 



O would that I could dive 



Down to thy courts, O deep ! 

 Where coral rocks with briny waters strive, 

 And temples let the black waves o'er them sweep ; 

 And lift their crystal columns far and wide 

 In solitary pride. 



O would that I could be 



Where man hath never been ! 

 O would that I could soar aloft and see 

 Such visions as no eye hath ever seen ; 

 That I might reap a field of new ideas 



To soothe Time's darkening years. 



Ye winds ! so wild so free- 

 That bear the clouds along, 

 O would that I at dead of night could see 

 Your figure, as ye tune your wintry song ! 

 O would that I could find out, with these eyes, 

 Wherein your prowess lies ! 



Ye winds ! when I am dead 



For I at last must die 

 And, like a yellow leaf by Autumn shed, 

 All lowly on earth's lap must mouldering lie 

 O howl, ye winds ! a requiem o'er my grave, 

 While earth's proud forests wave. 



When I no more shall be, 



O give one, parting dirge ; 

 Lift up to grandeur's height the billowy sea ; 

 Yet injure not the bark that braves the surge ; 

 And though the sea-fowl's breast ye may alarm, 

 Yet do her brood no harm. 



