David Given Schwarm

       The breath whose might I have invok’d in song       Descends on me; my spirit’s bark is driven,       Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng       Whose sails were never to the tempest given;       The massy earth and sphered skies are riven!       I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar;       Whilst, burning through the inmost veil…

       That Light whose smile kindles the Universe,       That Beauty in which all things work and move,       That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse       Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love       Which through the web of being blindly wove       By man and beast and earth and air and sea,       Burns bright or dim, as each…

       He is a portion of the loveliness       Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear       His part, while the one Spirit’s plastic stress       Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there       All new successions to the forms they wear;       Torturing th’ unwilling dross that checks its flight       To its own likeness, as each…

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       He is made one with Nature: there is heard       His voice in all her music, from the moan       Of thunder, to the song of night’s sweet bird;       He is a presence to be felt and known       In darkness and in light, from herb and stone,       Spreading itself where’er that Power may move       Which has…