Summer: Tuesday Morning Poem by John Bowring

How wisely is the stream of life controll'd
In its mild course-exhausted, and renew'd;
When toiling day its hurried tide has roll'd,
Comes night's sweet season;-a vicissitude
Of labour and of rest;-the day-rays shine
Upon the mountains,-and I live again:
Yet blest it is our spirits to resign
To the calm influence of midnight's reign.
Land of pure freedom-kingdom of repose!
I lay and slept-the day had hid his beam,
And my tired spirit at the evening's close
Slept with the sun-while many a lovely dream
Play'd with my wandering intellect, and spread
Its soften'd colouring round me,-and I breath'd
In new existence, by bright fancy led
To realms in which eternal garlands wreath'd
The enfranchised spirit. What a blessedness,
Tho' for a moment only, to take wing
To the fair regions of eternal peace,
The paradise of everlasting spring,
Whose life-source is immortal! E'en this world
Were a most privileged, most bright abode,
If hence-imagination's wings unfurl'd
Could sometimes waft th' aspiring soul to God.
Man's hopes and fears may seem confined, to him
Whose vision stretches not o'er mortal things;
But the most distant star's invisible beam,
Or comet in his farthest journeyings,
Or all the extent which philosophic ken
Has given to infinite space, th' elastic soul
Springs over; these, and more than these, in vain
Her free and untired wand'rings would control.
At will, she travels on from sun to sun-
System to system-peoples as she flies
Unnumber'd stars-an all-creating one!
Dives into nature's deepest mysteries;
Unlocks the gates of death, and holds communion
With spirits of the tomb; and yet this spark,
So bright and beautiful, is held in union
With mortal clay,-unintellectual, dark,
And seems to perish. It can perish never.
Born of the heavens, again to heaven it speeds
To dwell in its own home-to shine for ever,
Divested of its dull and mortal weeds.


Great Being! who hast placed Thy pilgrim here,
In the dull twilight of this shadow-land,
O lead me to that brighter, better sphere,
'Neath the mild influence of Thy guiding hand.
Let me partake Thy gifts, Thy gifts improve;
Enjoy Thy sunshine here, and pluck the flowers
Strew'd on my path by Thy benignant love;
Inhale the freshness of the morning hours,
The fragrance of the evening breeze; and see
In all things Thy directing spirit, Lord!
Thou, in all nature visible-all in Thee:
And hear Thy voice, Thine all-impressive word,
In every sound of air, or earth, or sea;
For all, O God! are pregnant with Thy praise;
And I thus join the general harmony,
And my low song of grateful worship raise.