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Untitled Article
woo you to a fascinated sleep . But , listen not , sleep not : the waves never stay , they never slumber ; and action is rest to a spirit of power . Is there aught like this in the hearts of men ? The outline of the little bark is dark on the clear gray waters ; . it seems to move to the music of the waves . But no ; the boat trusts not to them , but to the air from heaven , which fills its
spreading sail . It rides in safety ; but it passeth eastwards , and the sky there is murky ; there a dim veil hangs over all . Surely it is oblivion which there broods on the scarce-seen horizon ; seen only in its own indistinctness . Shadows chase each other there , and their wings are darkening over all . O , little bark ! turn to the glorious west ; there a path is yet bright for thee ; there the orange and crimson blend in joyous harmony . Turn back—turn back to the brightness .
Behold the brilliant heavens ! the gorgeous colours are flushing in the pride of their own beauty . Behold their dazzling splendour , and turn from the east , which is veiled . Know you not that they are fading—this splendour is the life ; which is death ? No ; the little boat will not turn ; it has faith in the promise it has received ; it looks upon and it loves the fleeting hues of that
western arch ; but while it feels their beauty , it knows thai they pass away . It knows there is other beauty ; and in faith and trust it seeks it . Even towards the east , and among the shadows which dwell there , it holds on its hope-piloted way , nor casts one look of regret , though many of admiration , for the beauty which it leaves behind . It is there to be enjoyed ; and when all that was there so beaming has faded away , it will still live in the memory of beauty .
Hope still points to the yet dull east , and heeds not the shadows which may gather around . Onward and onward , ever steadily , wind-wafted by gentle airs from heaven , that little bark sails dauntlessly . It goes to meet the splendour of the coming of dawn , —the dawn of a day which shall know no end . Is there aught like this in the voyage of the spirit-life within us ?
I hear the breathing of the sea Upon the stony shore , As it would hush the world , and free The wid ^ earth evermore From its long strife with sorrow . But in vain ; The city ' s echo ever will be—pain .
Hearts are broken , hopes are crush ' d , In its ceaseless move ; And must be , till the world is hush ' d In the heaven of love . Come , blessed love , and let thine influence be Bright as yon star that Lights the charmed sea
Untitled Article
An Evening Reverie by the Sra-side . 843
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Dec. 2, 1834, page 843, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2640/page/25/
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