Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/148



HE air of heav’n is soft and sweet, That round my temples plays. I’ll stop awhile my wand’ring feet, On sky and stream to gaze.

But ah! though all around is fair, And bright and clear the day, Clouds, viewless clouds, are in the air, And dim the heav’nly ray.

O mists of Error, clouds of Sin, Why dim ye thus the soul? I fain would pierce the veil within, But ye around me roll.

Thou veil, that hid'st the inner might That worketh all in all, Why not disclose that Presence bright To them that long and call?