Spring: Monday Evening Poem by John Bowring

My eye look'd round upon the vast expanse
Of glorious Nature-and my raptured vision,
Revelling in the early day-beams' waken'd glance,
Saw rocks, and streams, and woods-like scenes Elysian,
Uncurtain'd slowly from the realms of sleep;
There the sun drove his golden chariot proudly,
And the sonorous ocean thunder'd loudly,
What time the waters rushing down the steep
Lifted their voice harmonious-every where
The spirit of love was brooding-and the smile
Of vernal freshness and of beauty rare:
There was a gentle music in the air,
That hung around the mist-robed mountains, while
A calm and quiet influence seem'd to breathe
In fragrance o'er the vales and on the hills:
The dews had hung up many a diamond wreath
On herbs and budding flowers-and the meek rills
Trembled at morning's first salute, and thrill'd
And murmur'd joy. Slowly and silently
The vapours which the lap of earth had fill'd,
Melted away in light!-the all-present eye
Of heaven beamed brightly: and methought the day
Look'd beautiful as when an infant wakes
From its soft slumbers-and in every ray
I trac'd the visible presence-dark and dim-
But still the presence visible of Him,
At whose first call the early morning breaks
Thro' twilight's curtain.-Higher yet, and higher,
Rose the great central orb above our globe,
Till heaven was girded with one azure robe,
And none could look upon that throne of fire,
On which perchance some spirit sits, and keeps
An awful reckoning with our earthly sphere:
For the Great Eye that sees us never sleeps;
It has its ministering angels wheresoe'er
Existence is-beneath us, and above,
Around us and within us, He has there
His delegates; they watch us when we rove,
And to the oft-abandon'd, narrow track
Of truth and virtue, gently call us back;
They read our thoughts-our actions they record,
And bear the transcript of each idle word
Up to the great tribunal.-Now the Noon,
Wearied with sultry toil, declines and falls
Into the mellow Eve.-The West puts on
Her gorgeous beauties-palaces and halls
And towers, all carved of the unstable cloud,
Welcome the calmly waning monarch-he
Sinks gently 'midst that glorious canopy
Down on his couch of rest-even like a proud
Monarch of earth and ocean. He being gone,
All his attendant ministers take their flight,
And leave the dark and desolate earth alone-
To all the gloom and horror of the Night.
But no! for He who made that glowing Sun,
Still watches o'er His children-and He spreads
A roll of starry brightness o'er our heads,
Waking the stars and planets one by one.


So rolls the varying day-and morn and noon
And eventide and night, alike proclaim
The ne'er decaying splendour of His name;
His love, that's never wearied, shed on man;
The never-bounded influence of His might;
The never-erring wisdom of His plan.
In Him, all, all is glory-knowledge-light-
Truth-beauty-joy; and both in what we see
And what we see not-both in what we know
And what we know not-kindness, mercy glow
In the refulgence of Infinity.