Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/289

 THE NUN'S ASPIRATION

yesterday doth never smile,

The day goes drudging through the while,

Yet, in the name of Godhead, I

The morrow front, and can defy;

Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed,

Cannot withhold his conquering aid.

Ah me! it was my childhood's thought,

If He should make my web a blot

On life's fair picture of delight,

My heart's content would find it right.

But O, these waves and leaves,—

When happy stoic Nature grieves,

No human speech so beautiful

As their murmurs mine to lull.

On this altar God hath built

I lay my vanity and guilt;

Nor me can Hope or Passion urge

Hearing as now the lofty dirge

Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn,

Nature's funeral high and dim,—

Sable pageantry of clouds,

Mourning summer laid in shrouds.

Many a day shall dawn and die,

Many an angel wander by,