David Vedder

David Vedder Poems

Talk not of temples--there is one
Built without hands, to mankind given;
Its lamps are the meridian sun,
And all the stars of heaven;
...

There is a pang for every heart,
A tear for every eye;
There is a knell for every ear,
For every breast a sigh.
...

I neither got promise of siller nor land
With the bonnie wee darling who gave me her hand;
...

Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre,
While plaudits shake the vaulted fane;
Let warriors rush through flood and fire,
A never-dying name to gain;
...

Oh! the sunny peaches glow,
And the grapes in clusters blush;
And the cooling silver streams
...

Now the beams of May morn
On the mountains are streaming,
And the dews on the corn
...

The tempest is raging
And rending the shrouds;
The ocean is waging
A war with the clouds;
...

The Best Poem Of David Vedder

The Temple Of Nature

Talk not of temples--there is one
Built without hands, to mankind given;
Its lamps are the meridian sun,
And all the stars of heaven;
Its walls are the cerulean sky,
Its floor the earth so green and fair;
The dome is vast immensity--
All nature worships there!

The Alps array'd in stainless snow,
The Andean ranges yet untrod,
At sunrise and at sunset glow
Like altar-fires to God.
A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze,
As if with hallow'd victims rare;
And thunder lifts its voice in praise--
All nature worships there!

The ocean heaves resistlessly,
And pours his glittering treasure forth;
His waves--the priesthood of the sea--
Kneel on the shell-gemm'd earth,
And there emit a hollow sound,
As if they murmur'd praise and prayer;
On every side 'tis holy ground--
All nature worships there!

The grateful earth her odours yield
In homage, Mighty One! to thee;
From herbs and flowers in every field,
From fruit on every tree,
The balmy dew at morn and even
Seems like the penitential tear,
Shed only in the sight of heaven--
All nature worships there!

The cedar and the mountain pine,
The willow on the fountain's brim,
The tulip and the eglantine,
In reverence bend to Him;
The song-birds pour their sweetest lays,
From tower, and tree, and middle air;
The rushing river murmurs praise--
All nature worships there!

Then talk not of a fane, save one
Built without hands, to mankind given;
Its lamps are the meridian sun,
And all the stars of heaven.
Its walls are the cerulean sky,
Its floor the earth so green and fair,
The dome is vast immensity--
All nature worships there!

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