How often we forget all time, when lone br Admiring Nature's universal throne; br Her woods- her wilds- her mountains- the intense br Reply of HERS to OUR intelligence! [BYRON, The Island.] br br I br br In youth have I known one with whom the Earth br In secret communing held- as he with it, br In daylight, and in beauty from his birth: br Whose fervid, flickering torch of life was lit br From the sun and stars, whence he had drawn forth br A passionate light- such for his spirit was fit- br And yet that spirit knew not, in the hour br Of its own fervor what had o'er it power. br br br II br br Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought br To a fever by the moonbeam that hangs o'er, br But I will half believe that wild light fraught br With more of sovereignty than ancient lore br Hath ever told- or is it of a thought br The unembodied essence, and no more, br That with a quickening spell doth o'er us pass br As dew of the night-time o'er the summer grass? br br III br br Doth o'er us pass, when, as th' expanding eye br To the loved object- so the tear to the lid br Will start, which lately slept in apathy? br And yet it need not be- (that object) hid br From us in life- but common- which doth lie br Each hour before us- but then only, bid br With a strange sound, as of a harp-string broken, br To awake us- 'Tis a symbol and a token br br IV br br Of what in other worlds shall be- and given br In beauty by our God, to those alone br Who otherwise would fall from life and Heaven br Drawn by their heart's passion, and that tone, br That high tone of the spirit which hath striven, br Tho' not with Faith- with godliness- whose throne br With desperate energy 't hath beaten down; br Wearing its own deep feeling as a crown.