George Willis Cooke, comp. The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology. 1903.
IdealsDavid Atwood Wasson (18231887)
A
Of your first vision, wild and sweet,
I poured in passionate sighs
My wish unwise
That ye descend my heart to meet,—
My heart so slow to rise!
In heaven your shining poise afar,
And to my wishes bold
Reply with cold
Sweet invitation, like a star
Fixed in the heavens old.
Is ’t not by this ye are divine,—
That, native to the sky,
Ye cannot hie
Downward, and give low hearts the wine
That should reward the high?
Of your abiding in your places;
Oh, still, howe’er my pain
Wild prayers may rain,
Keep pure on high the perfect graces,
That, stooping, could but stain!
And lift us to your angelhood,
Do your surprises pure
Dawn far and sure
Above the tumult of young blood,
And starlike there endure.
For see, I come!—but slow, but slow!
Yet ever as your chime,
Soft and sublime,
Lifts at my feet, they move, they go
Up the great stair of time.