Henry Alford Poems

Light ye the torch,--
The torch that hath expired;
The light with which was fired
Chamber and hall and porch:
...

'Tis pretty, doubtless: water, grass, and trees,
The man who hath a heart must always please:
The morning glories from yon steaming lake
...

The year is born to--day--methinks it hath
A chilly time of it; for down the sky
The flaky frost--cloud stretches, and the Sun
...

The earth is clad
For her bridal glad;
Her robe is white
As the spotless light;
...

Surely, methinks, this Sabbath morn
Some brighter sunshine should adorn
Than Heaven vouchsafes on common days;
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Here, midway perched between the sea and sky,
Hung I in air. Still was the noon around,
The sun beat fiercely on the glaring rocks,
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Young budding virgin, who in bashful pride,
All dedicate to Christ, didst stand apart
From crowds of pitying faithless, and with heart
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While our shrub--walks darken,
And the stars get bright aloft,
Still we sit and hearken
To the music low and soft;
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In token that thou shalt not fear
Christ crucified to own,
We print the Cross upon thee here,
And stamp thee his alone.
...

Thus sung I in these grounds erewhile, perchance
Tempted by sudden aptitude of words
Into that measure which least pleaseth me,
...