Nature and Elements

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way.

The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober coloring from an eye That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Our souls have sight of that immortal sea

High instincts before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised.

O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!

The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.

The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.

Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life’s common way, In cheerful godliness.

Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will! Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Towered up between me and the stars, and still, For so it seemed, with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me.

Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.

Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.

In its eye the far-off hills are mirrored— dragonfly! 1

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise. My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Ye banks and braes o’ bonny Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn! Thou minds me o’ departed joys, Departed never to return.

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r, Thou’s met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow’r, Thou bonie gem.

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r, Thou’s met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow’r, Thou bonie gem.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar Showed him the gentleman an’ scholar.

The social, friendly, honest man, Whate’er he be, ’Tis he fulfills great Nature’s plan, And none but he!

Gie me ae spark o’ Nature’s fire, That’s a’ the learning I desire.

Nature’s law, That man was made to mourn.

Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickering brattle!