Poems and Verse for this Landscape

Henry Vaughan the Silurist (1621-1695)

The Waterfall from Silex Scintillans (1650). 

1 With what deep murmurs through time's silent stealth

2 Doth thy transparent, cool, and wat'ry wealth

3 Here flowing fall,

4 And chide, and call,

5 As if his liquid, loose retinue stay'd

6 Ling'ring, and were of this steep place afraid;

7 The common pass

8 Where, clear as glass,

9 All must descend

10 Not to an end,

11 But quicken'd by this deep and rocky grave,

12 Rise to a longer course more bright and brave.

13 Dear stream! dear bank, where often I

14 Have sate and pleas'd my pensive eye,

15 Why, since each drop of thy quick store

16 Runs thither whence it flow'd before,

17 Should poor souls fear a shade or night,

18 Who came, sure, from a sea of light?

19 Or since those drops are all sent back

20 So sure to thee, that none doth lack,

21 Why should frail flesh doubt any more

22 That what God takes, he'll not restore?

23 O useful element and clear!

24 My sacred wash and cleanser here,

25 My first consigner unto those

26 Fountains of life where the Lamb goes!

27 What sublime truths and wholesome themes

28 Lodge in thy mystical deep streams!

29 Such as dull man can never find

30 Unless that Spirit lead his mind

31 Which first upon thy face did move,

32 And hatch'd all with his quick'ning love.

33 As this loud brook's incessant fall

34 In streaming rings restagnates all,

35 Which reach by course the bank, and then

36 Are no more seen, just so pass men.

37 O my invisible estate,

38 My glorious liberty, still late!

39 Thou art the channel my soul seeks,

40 Not this with cataracts and creeks.

 What is this life if, full of care,
 We have no time to stand and stare.

 No time to stand beneath the boughs
 And stare as long as sheep or cows.

 No time to see, when woods we pass,
 Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

 No time, to see, in broad daylight,
 Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

 No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
 And watch her feet, how they can dance.

 No time to wait till her mouth can
 Enrich that smile her eyes began.

 A poor life this if, full of care,
 We have no time to stand and stare.

 

I HEAR leaves drinking rain;

I hear rich leaves on top

Giving the poor beneath

Drop after drop;

'Tis a sweet noise to hear

These green leaves drinking near.dormitory


And when the Sun comes out,

After this Rain shall stop,

A wondrous Light will fill

Each dark, round drop;

I hope the Sun shines bright;

'Twill be a lovely sight.


W.H. Davies

 My mind has thunderstorms,
 That brood for heavy hours:
 Until they rain me words,
 My thoughts are drooping flowers
 And sulking, silent birds.

 Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
 And brood your heavy hours;
 For when you rain me words,
 My thoughts are dancing flowers
 And joyful singing birds.

W.H. Davies

 
John Muir "Our National Parks"

"Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life"