Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891.
Hearts of eternityWilliam Ellery Channing (18181901)
H
Proclaim from land to sea your mighty fate;
How that for you no living comes too late;
How ye cannot in Theban labyrinth creep;
Shout, excellent band, in grand primeval strain,
Like midnight winds that foam along the main,
And do all things rather than pause and weep.
Suspects no man, compares with no one’s ways,
Hath in one hour most glorious length of days,
Like eaglet keen, shoots into azure far,
And always dwelling nigh is the remotest star.