With brain o’erworn, with heart a summer clod, <br />With eye so practised in each form around,— <br />And all forms mean,—to glance above the ground <br />Irks it, each day of many days we plod, <br />Tongue-tied and deaf, along life’s common road. <br />But suddenly, we know not how, a sound <br />Of living streams, an odour, a flower crowned <br />With dew, a lark upspringing from the sod, <br />And we awake. O joy and deep amaze! <br />Beneath the everlasting hills we stand, <br />We hear the voices of the morning seas, <br />And earnest prophesyings in the land, <br />While from the open heaven leans forth at gaze <br />The encompassing great cloud of witnesses.<br /><br />Edward Dowden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/awakening-4/
