George Willis Cooke, comp. The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology. 1903.
Blest Spirit of My LifeJohn Weiss (18181879)
B
Let not this rapture vanish soon;
For thus my earth is snatched away,
And lifted into heaven’s noon.
The air through which my words aspire!
My narrow clay they leave to glean
In fields of infinite desire.
It is that thou, my heaven, art
So far, so faintly come the rays
That kindle heaven in my heart.
Am I: must I to bounds return?
Then make me blest that I can grieve,
And satisfied that I can yearn.
To shine, burn up my cloudy sky!
To morning change my frequent nights;
Drop planets to me from on high.
Deeper than sight do I adore!
I am a little sail to win
In thy great breath my native shore.