Thou know’st they spring where deepest shade And blinding sunlight are at strife— Faint blooms and frail, yet bringing thee Sweet breathings from my inmost life. Or come like waters, leaping out From shadowy places to the day, To catch heaven’s brightness on their waves, And freshen earth along their way. A streamlet laughing in the sun Is all a busy world may hear— The deepest fountains of my soul Send up their murmurs to thine ear. There are to whom these lays shall come Like strains that sky-larks downward send; But ah, no higher than thy heart They sing to thee, belovéd friend! For in thy manhood pure and strong, With thy great soul, thy fresh, young heart, Thou _livest_ my ideal life, And what I only dream thou _art_. The Grecian youth whose name thou bear’st, Who nightly with the billows strove, And through the wild seas cleaved his way To the dear bosom of his love, Ne’er bore a braver soul than thine, When yawned great deeps and tempests frowned, Nor lifted up amid the waves A brow with loftier beauty crowned. The poet’s rare and wondrous gifts In thee await their triumph-hour— There sleep within thy dreamy eyes The mighty secrets of his power. Thy heart, with one high throb, can rise His fair, heroic dreams above— There breathes more passion in thy voice Than in a thousand lays of love. Ah, know’st thou not, the while thou deem’st The poet’s mission most divine, Life’s grand, unwritten poetry Goes out from natures such as thine? What though it falleth brokenly, And faintly on the world’s dull ear— Though clamorous voices cry it down, To God it rises, pure and clear! It cometh as a service glad— A music all as full and sweet, As though the stars hymned forth their joy, And rolled their anthems to His feet. When, like the Grecian youth, thou see’st The midnight tempests gather round— When storm-clouds seem to flood the heavens, And all the starry lights are drowned;— Upborne by angel-hands, may’st thou Through life’s wild sea right onward sweep, To where Hope’s signal lights the night, And Love stands watching by the deep. * * * * * WORDSWORTH. BY WM. ALEXANDER.