The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1839-08-24
Sense of Beauty.
BY HON. MRS. NORTON.

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Sr1RIr who over this mortal earth,
Where nought hath birth
Which imperfection does not some way dim,
Since Earth offended Him
Thou who, unseen, from out thy radiant wings
Dost shower down light Ger and common things,
And wandering to ard fro,
Through the condemned and sinful world dos go,
Haunting the wilderness, the human heart,
With CLEANS, of glory that too soon depart,
Gliding both weed and flower
What is thy birth divine, and whence thy mighty power?
The Sculptor thee on his high pale brow,
BewilderiWg images are pressing now;
Groups whose immortal grace
His chsel nc er shall trace,
Though in his mind the fresh creation glows;
High forms of godlike strength,
Or limbs whose languid length
The marble fixes in sweet repose
At thy command,
His fond and patient hand
Mouds the dull clay to Beauty richest line
Or, with more tedious skill,
Obedent to thy will,
BY touches imperceptible and fine,
Works slowly, day by day,
The rough-hewn block away,
Till the soft shadow of the bust's pale smile
Wakes into statue life, and pays tn assiduous toll
Thee, the young Painter knows-whose fervent eyes,
Der the blank waste of canvass fondly bending,
Sec fast within its magic circle rise
Some pictured scene, with colors softly blening;
Green bowers and leafy glades,
The old Arcadian shades,
Where thwarting glimrses of the sun are thrown,
And dancing nymphs and shepherds by
Appear to bless his sight,
In Fancy's glowing light.
Peopling that spot of green Earth's nowery breast
With every attitude of joy and rest.
Lo, at his pencils touch steals family forth
(like,an uprising star in the cold North)
Some face which shall glow with Beauty fire.
Dim seems the sketch to those who stand around,
Dim and uncertain echoed sound,
But oh how bright to him whose hand thou dost inspire
Thee also, doth the dreaming Poet hail
Fond comforter of many dreary day,
When through :he clouds his fancy car can sail
To worlds of radiance, far, hoW far away!
Lo, at thy touch at the burst of light
Which Morning shoots along the purple hills,
Chasing the shadows of the vanished Night,
And sivering all the darkly gushing rs-
Giving each blossom, gemm d with sparkling dew,
Its bright and proper hue:
So darts thy glow across the Poet soul,
So from has world the raists of darkness ROLL
And shows il as il should be--as it aDas,
Fer the dim night ofDeath came down to mar
The holy and the beautiful, and cause
A struggle and interminabe
Amidst creation He beholds the face
Of the old world with young Eden grace
Disease and Want and Sin and Pain not
Nor homely nor familiar things-Man's lot
Is like his aspirations, bright and high;
And even the haunting thought that Man must die,
HIS dream changes from its fearful strife,
Death seems but fainting into purer life!
Not only these thy presence WOO,
The less inspired own thee too;
Thou hast thy tranquil source
In the deep we-sprngs of the human heart,
And gushest with sweet force
When most imprisoned causing tears to start
In the worn citizens o'er-wearied eye,
As, with sigh,
AT the bright close of some rare holiday,
lie sees the branches wave, the waters play,
And hears the clocks far distant mellow chime
Warns him buster world recuims his time!
Thee, Childhood's heart confesses-when he sees
The heavy rosebud crimson in the breeze
When the red choral wins his eager gaze,
Or the warm sunbeam dazzes with its
Thee through his varied hours Of rapid Joy,
The eager boy,
Who wild across the grassy meadow springs,
And still with sparkling eyes
Pursues tn uncertain prize,
Lnred by the velvet glory of its wings!
And from youth to age-yca till the end
unforsaking, unforgetting FRIEND
Thou hoverest round us! and when all is DER,
And Earths most loved illustrious please more,
Thou stealest gently to the couch of Death,
There while the lugging breath
Comes faint and ftfully, to usher nigh
Consong visions from thy native sky,
Making it sweet to die!
The sick mans faint his eyes DIM.
But his heart listens TO the heavenward hymn
And his soul sees--not, not the weeping band,
Who come with mournfu tread