Music — Poetry — Fiction 



Oh, could I gaze forever on thy face, 1865 



Unwearied still, thou matchless waterfall, 

 Whose twining spells of majesty and grace 



My ardent sense bewilder and enthrall ! 



In all my moods thy charms, puissant sway, 



Enforce my will their master-spell to own; 

 My heart leaps at thy voice — or grave or gay — 



And every chord is vibrant to thy tone. 



So many years I have come back to stand, 



With reverent awe, before thy glorious shrine — 



So close and long thy lineaments I've scanned — 

 It seems thou shouldst grow something less divine. 



I know thy face, its shifting glooms and smiles, 



As cloud or sun upon thy bosom lies ; 

 Thy wrathful guise, thy witching, rainbow wiles 



Can wake no more for me the sweet surprise. 



I know thy voice — its terror and its glee 



Have in my ear so oft their changes rung, 

 Nor forest winds nor anthems of the sea 



Speak to my soul with more familiar tongue. 



My feet have scaled thy storm-scarred battlements, 

 And pressed the moss most emerald with thy tears, 



And still profaned thy lucent caverns, whence 

 The neophyte comes pale with ghostly fears. 



Yet, as the more of God the soul perceives, 



And nigher Him is drawn, it worships more; 

 So, in my heart, thy matchless beauty leaves 



Constraint, in thine, His grandeur to adore. 



751 



