William Ellery Channing (1818–1901)

HEARTS of eternity,—hearts of the deep!

Proclaim from land to sea your mighty fate;

How that for you no living comes too late;

How ye cannot in Theban labyrinth creep;

How ye great harvests from small surface reap;

Shout, excellent band, in grand primeval strain,

Like midnight winds that foam along the main,

And do all things rather than pause and weep.

A human heart knows nought of littleness,

Suspects no man, compares with no one’s ways,

Hath in one hour most glorious length of days,

A recompense, a joy, a loveliness;

Like eaglet keen, shoots into azure far,

And always dwelling nigh is the remotest star.