Psalm Of The Day.

A something in a summer's day,     As sIow her flambeaux burn away,     Which solemnizes me.     A something in a summer's noon, --     An azure depth, a wordless tune,     Transcending ecstasy.     And still within a summer's night     A something so transporting bright,     I clap my hands to see;     Then veil my too inspecting face,     Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace     Flutter too far for me.     The wizard-fingers never rest,     The purple brook within the breast     Still chafes its narrow bed;     Still rears the East her amber flag,     Guides still the sun along the crag     His caravan of red,     Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,     But never deemed the dripping prize     Awaited their low brows;     Or bees, that thought the summer's name     Some rumor of delirium     No summer could for them;     Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred     By tropic hint, -- some travelled bird     Imported to the wood;     Or wind's bright signal to the ear,     Making that homely and severe,     Contented, known, before     The heaven unexpected came,     To lives that thought their worshipping     A too presumptuous psalm.