Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.
Birds of PassageFlight the Second. A Day of Sunshine
O
Whereon shall no man work, but play;
Whereon it is enough for me,
Not to be doing, but to be!
Through every nerve, through every vein,
I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life, that seems almost too much.
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.
The splendid scenery of the sky,
Where through a sapphire sea the sun
Sails like a golden galleon,
Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,
Whose steep sierra far uplifts
Its craggy summits white with drifts.
The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms!
Blow, winds! and bend within my reach
The fiery blossoms of the peach!
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!
O heart of man! canst thou not be
Blithe as the air is, and as free?