THE SOUL’S SEARCH.
Reading edition
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BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
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A weary, wandering soul am I,
O’erburthened with an earthly weight;
A palmer through the world and sky
Seeking the celestial gate.
Tell me, ye sweet and sinless flowers,
Who all night gaze upon the skies,
Have ye not in the silent hours
Seen aught of Paradise?
Ye birds, that soar and sing, elate
With joy which makes your voices strong,
Have ye not at the crystal gate
Caught somewhat of your song?
Ye waters, sparkling in the morn,
Ye seas, which hold the starry night,
Have ye not from the imperial bourn
Caught glimpses of its light?
Ye hermit oaks, and sentinel pines,
Ye mountain forests old and gray,
In all your long and winding lines
Have ye not seen the way?
Thou moon, ’mid all thy starry bowers,
Knowest thou the path the angels tread?
Seest thou beyond thy azure towers
The golden gates dispread?
Ye holy spheres, that sang with earth
While earth was yet a sinless star,
Have the immortals heavenly birth
Within your realms afar?
Thou monarch sun, whose light unfurls
Thy banners through unnumbered skies,
Seest thou amid thy subject worlds
The flaming portals rise?
All, all are mute! and still am I
O’erburthened with an earthly weight,
A palmer through the world and sky
Seeking the celestial gate.
No answer wheresoe’er I roam—
From skies afar no guiding ray;
But, hark! the voice of Christ says “Come!
Arise! I am the way!”