As when the storm doth cease, The loving sun the clouds dispelleth, And woodland walks are sweet in spring; The birds they merrily sing And every flower-bud swelleth. Or where the heav'ns o'erspan The lonely downs When summer is high: Below their breezy crowns And grassy steep Spreadeth the infinite smile of the sunlit sea; Whereon the white ships swim, And steal to havens far Across the horizon dim, Or lie becalm'd upon the windless deep, Like thoughts of beauty and peace, When the storm doth cease, And fair desire, companion of man, Leadeth the children of earth. IV Man, born to toil, in his labour rejoiceth; His voice is heard in the morn: He armeth his hand and sallieth forth To engage with the generous teeming earth, And drinks from the rocky rills The laughter of life. Or else, in crowded cities gathering close, He traffics morn and eve In thronging market-halls; Or within echoing walls Of busy arsenals Weldeth the stubborn iron to engines vast; Or tends the thousand looms Where, with black smoke o'ercast, The land mourns in deep glooms. Life is toil, and life is good: There in loving brotherhood Beateth the nation's heart of fire. Strife! Strife! The strife is strong! There battle thought and voice, and spirits conspire In joyous dance around the tree of life, And from the ringing choir Riseth the praise of God from hearts in tuneful song. V Hark! What spirit doth entreat The love-obedient air? All the pomp of his delight Revels on the ravisht night, Wandering wilful, soaring fair: There! 'Tis there, 'tis there. Like a flower of primal fire Late redeem'd by man's desire. Away, on wings away My spirit far hath flown, To a land of love and peace, Of beauty unknown. The world that earth-born man, By evil undismay'd, Out of the breath of God Hath for his heaven made. Where all his dreams soe'er Of holy things and fair In splendour are upgrown, Which thro' the toilsome years Martyrs and faithful seers And poets with holy tears Of hope have sown. There, beyond power of ill, In joy and blessing crown'd, Christ with His lamp of truth Sitteth upon the hill Of everlasting youth, And calls His saints around. VI Sweet compassionate tears Have dimm'd my earthly sight, Tears of love, the showers wherewith The eternal morn is bright: Dews of the heav'nly spheres. With tears my eyes are wet, Tears not of vain regret, Tears of no lost delight, Dews of the heav'nly spheres Have dimm'd my earthly sight, Sweet compassionate tears. VII