THERE is a world we have not seen,
That time shall never dare destroy;
Where mortal footstep hath not been,
Nor ear hath caught its sounds of joy.
There is a region lovelier far
Than sages tell or poets sing;
Brighter than summer beauties are,
And softer than the tints of spring.
There is a world—and O, how blest!
Fairer than prophets ever told;
And never did an angel guest
One half its blessedness unfold:
It is all holy and serene,
The land of glory and repose; And there to dim the radiant scene, The tear of sorrow never flows.
It is not fanned by summer gale,
"Tis not refreshed by vernal showers;
It never needs the moon-beam pale,
For there are known no evening hours:
No: for this world is ever bright
With a pure radiance all its own;
The streams of uncreated light
Flow round it from the Eternal Throne
There, forms that mortals may not see,
Too glorious for the eye to trace,
And clad in peerless majesty,
Move with unutterable grace.
"Go, chase him out. Look! here he comes, Now on my bed he wants to stay;
He shant be there. Oh God! oh God!
Go way, I say! go way! go way!
Quick! chain me fast, and tie me down :
There now he clasps me in his arms;
Down - down the window
Say, don't you hear my wild alarms?
"Fire! water! help! come, haste
Come, take me from this burning bed:
The smoke — I'm choking—cannot cry ;
There now-it's catching at my head!
But see! again that demon's come;
Look! there he peeps through yonder crack;
Mark how his burning eyeballs flash!
How fierce he grins! what brought him back?
OH, water for me, bright water for me —
Give wine to the tremulous debauchee-
It cooleth the brow, it cooleth the brain,
It maketh the faint one strong again :
It comes o'er the sense like a breeze from the sea,
All freshness, like infant purity.
So water for me, bright water for me-
Give wine, give wine to the debauchee !
Fill to the brim, fill, fill to the brim,
Let the flowing crystal kiss the rim ;
For my hand is steady, my eye is true,
For I, like the flowers, drink nothing but dew.
O water, bright water's a mine of wealth,
And the ores it yieldeth are vigor and health.
Then water, pure water, for me, for me,
And wine for the tremulous debauchee !
Fill again to the brim, again to the brim,
For water strengtheneth life and limb!
To the days of the aged, it addeth length,
To the might of the strong, it addeth strength.
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight,
'Tis like quaffing a goblet of morning light:
So water, I will drink nought but thee,
Thou parent of health and energy!
When o'er the hills like a gladsome bride,
Morning walks forth in her beauty's pride,
Leading a band of laughing hours,
Brushing the dew from the nodding flowers;
Oh cheerily then my voice is heard,
Mingling with that of the soaring bird,
Who flingeth abroad his matins loud,
As he freshens his wing in the cold grey cloud.
But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew,
Drowsily flying and weaving anew
Her dusky meshes o'er land and sea,
How gently, O sleep, fall thy poppies on me!
For I drink water, pure, cold, and bright,
And my dreams are of heaven the live-long night;
So hurrah! for thee, water, hurrah! hurrah!
Thou art silver and gold, thou art ribbon and star,
Hurrah! for bright water, hurrah! hurrah!
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