Sonnets I

If thou wouldst find what holiest men have sought,
Communion with the power of Poesy,
Empty thy mind of all unquiet thought,
Lay bare thy spirit to the vaulting sky
And glory of the sunshine: go and stand
Where nodding briers sport with the water-break,
Or by the plashings of a moonlight creek, —
Or breast the wind upon some jutting land: —
The most unheeded things have influences
That sink into the soul; in after-hours
We oft are tempted suddenly to dress
The tombs of half-forgotten moods with flowers;
Our own choice mocks us; and the sweetest themes
Come to us without call, wayward as dreams.