I LOVE the old melodious lays <br />Which softly melt the ages through, <br />The songs of Spenser’s golden days, <br />Arcadian Sidney’s silvery phrase, <br />Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew. <br /> <br />Yet, vainly in my quiet hours <br />To breathe their marvellous notes I try; <br />I feel them, as the leaves and flowers <br />In silence feel the dewy showers, <br />And drink with glad, still lips the blessing of the sky. <br /> <br />The rigor of a frozen clime, <br />The harshness of an untaught ear, <br />The jarring words of one whose rhyme <br />Beat often Labor’s hurried time, <br />Or Duty’s rugged march through storm and strife, are here. <br /> <br />Of mystic beauty, dreamy grace, <br />No rounded art the lack supplies; <br />Unskilled the subtle lines to trace, <br />Or softer shades of Nature’s face, <br />I view her common forms with unanointed eyes. <br /> <br />Nor mine the seer-like power to show <br />The secrets of the heart and mind; <br />To drop the plummet-line below <br />Our common world of joy and woe, <br />A more intense despair or brighter hope to find. <br /> <br />Yet here at least an earnest sense <br />Of human right and weal is shown; <br />A hate of tyranny intense, <br />And hearty in its vehemence, <br />As if my brother’s pain and sorrow were my own. <br /> <br />O Freedom! if to me belong <br />Nor mighty Milton’s gift divine, <br />Nor Marvell’s wit and graceful song, <br />Still with a love as deep and strong <br />As theirs, I lay, like them, my best gifts on thy shrine!<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/proem-3/
