Te
Deum
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IF
I could paint you the autumn color, the melting
glow upon all
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things
laid, |
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| The
violet haze of Indian summer, before its splendor
begins to |
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fade, |
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| When
scarlet has reached its breathless moment, and gold
the |
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hush
of its glory now, |
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That were a mightier craft than Titian’s,
the heart to lift and the |
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head
to bow |
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I should be lord of a world of rapture, master
of magic and
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gladness,
too,— |
5 |
| The
touch of wonder transcending science, the solace
escaping |
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from
line and hue; |
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| I
would reveal through tint and texture the very soul
of this earth of |
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ours, |
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| Forever
yearning through boundless beauty to exalt the spirit
with |
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all
her powers. |
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See where it lies by the lake this morning, our
autumn hillside of |
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hardwood
trees, |
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A masterpiece of the mighty painter who works in
the primal
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mysteries. |
10 |
| A
living tapestry, rich and glowing with blended marvels,
vermilion |
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and
dun, |
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| Hung
out for the pageant of time that passes along an
avenue of |
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the
sun! |
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The crown of the ash is tinged with purple, the
hickory leaves are |
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Etruscan
gold, |
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| And
the tulip-tree lifts yellow banners against the
blue for a signal |
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bold; |
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oaks in crimson cohorts stand, and myriad sumack
torches |
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mass |
15 |
| In
festal pomp and victorious pride, when the vision
of spring is |
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brought
to pass. |
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Down from the line of the shore’s deep shadows
another and |
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softer
picture lies, |
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| As
if the soul of the lake in slumber should harbor
a dream of |
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paradise,— |
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| Passive
and blurred and unsubstantial, lulling the sense
and luring |
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the
mind |
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| With
the spell of an empty fairy world, where sinew and
sap are left |
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behind. |
20 |
So men dream of a far-off heaven of power and knowledge
and |
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endless
joy, |
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| Asleep
to the moment’s fine elation, dull to the
day’s divine |
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employ, |
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Musing
over a phantom image, born of fantastic hope and
fear,
Of the very happiness life engenders and earth provides—our
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privilege
here. |
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Dare we dispel a single transport, neglect the worth
that is here |
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and
now, |
25 |
| Yet
dream of enjoying its shadowy semblance in the by-and-by
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somewhere,
somehow? |
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| I
heard the wind on the hillside whisper, “They
ill prepare for a |
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journey
hence |
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Who waste the senses and starve the spirit in a
world all made for |
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spirit
and sense. |
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“Is the full stream fed from a stifled source,
or the ripe fruit filled |
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from
a blighted flower? |
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| Are
not the brook and the blossom greatened through
many a |
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busy
beatified hour? |
30 |
| Not
in the shadow but in the substance, plastic and
potent at our |
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command, |
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| Are
all the wisdom and gladness of heart; this is the
kingdom of |
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heaven
at hand.” |
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So I will pass through the lovely world, and partake
of beauty to |
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feed
my soul. |
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| With
earth my domain and growth my portion, how should
I sue for |
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a further
dole? |
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| In
the lift I feel of immortal rapture, in the flying
glimpse I gain of |
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truth, |
35 |
| Released
is the passion that sought perfection, assauged
the |
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ardor
of dreamful youth. |
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The patience of time shall teach me courage, the
strength of the |
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sun
shall lend me poise. |
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| I
would give thanks for the autumn glory, for the
teaching of earth |
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and
all her joys. |
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| Her
fine fruition shall well suffice me; the air shall
stir in my veins |
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like
wine; |
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| While
the moment waits and the wonder deepens, my life
shall |
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merge
with the life divine. |
40 |
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