Richmond daily times. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1853, 1852-04-24
THE DAILY TIMES.

THE DAILY TIMES.
TO THE sKYLARK.
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Bird thou never vert.
That from Heaven near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuSe strains of unprecedented art.
Higher still and higher,
From the earth thou sprngest,
Like cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wngest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring singesti
In the golden lightning
OF the sunken sun,
O'er which clouds are frightening
Thou dost float and run;
Like embodied JOY whose is just begun
The pale purple even
Mets around thy flight;
Like star of heaven,
In the broad daylight
Thou art unseen, but yet hear thy shrill delight.
Keen as are the arrows
OF that silver sphere,
Whose intense lamp
In the white dawn clear,
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
the earth and air
With thy voice is loud,
AS, when night is bare,
From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven ia
overlooked.
What thou art we know not
What is most like thee2
From rainbow clouds there flow not
Drops so bright to see,
As from thy presence showers rain of melody.
Like poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden
Till the world is ght
To sympathy with hopes and fears it needed not:
Like high born maiden
In palace tower,
Soothing her love-laden
Soul in secret hour
With music sweet as love, which oyerfows her
Like glow-worm golden
In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden
Its aerial hue
Among the flowers and grass which screen fit from
the view:
Like empowered
In its green leaves,
BY warm winds dehowered
Till the scent it gives
Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged
thieves.
Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkling grass,
Rain awakened flowers
All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth
pass.
Teach us, sprite or bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine.
have never heard
Praise of love or wine
That painted forth food of rapture 80 divine.
Chorus hymeneal,
Or triumphant chant,
Matched with thine would be all
But an empty vaunt-
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.
What objects the fountains
OF thy happy strain t
What fields, waves, mountains7
What shapes of sky Or plain?
What love of thine own knd7-what ignorance of
pain?
With thy clear, keen joyance
Languor not be-:
Shadow of annoyance
Never come near thee
Thou lowest; but ne'er knew loves sad safety.
Waking asleep,
Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep
Than mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such crystal
stream!
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught,
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of Eaddest
thought.
Yet if we could scorn,
Hate, and pride, and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed tear,
know not how thy joy we ever should come
near.
Better than all measures
Ofdeghtful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were thou scorner Of the ground
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow,
The world should listen then, l am listening
A............Z
The YACHT AMERICA, NPARLIAMENT.--Col.
Peel, in recent discussion on the navy estimates
in the British House of Commons, took occasion
to express his surprise that no word had been
said in reference to the circumstances ola foreign
yacht having come to England, and, in the presence
of the Queen herself beaten some of the
crack English sailing vessels! That Col. Peel