Gerald Massey

This World is Full of Beauty

THERE lives a voice within me, a guest-angel of my heart,
And its sweet lispings win me, till the tears a-trembling
        start;
Up evermore it springeth, like some magic melody,
And evermore it singeth this sweet song of songs to me—
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.

Night's starry tendernesses dower with glory evermore,
Morn's budding, bright, melodious hour comes sweetly as
        of yore;
But there be million hearts accurst, where no sweet sun-
        bursts shine,
And there be million hearts athirst for Love's immortal
        wine.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.

If faith, and hope, and kindness pass'd, as coin, 'twixt heart
        and heart;
How, thro' the eye's tear-blindness, should the sudden
        soul upstart!
The dreary, dim, and desolate, should wear a sunny bloom,
And Love should spring from buried Hate, like flowers
        o'er Winter's tomb
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.

With truth our uttered language, Angels might talk with
        men,
And God-illumined earth should see the golden Age
        again:
The burthen'd heart should soar in mirth like Morn's
        young prophet-lark,
And Misery's last tear wept on earth, quench Hell's last
        cunning spark.
For this world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.

Lo! plenty ripens round us, yet awakes the cry for bread,
The millions still are toiling, crusht, and clad in rags, unfed!
While sunny hills and valleys richly blush with fruit and
        grain,
But the paupers in the palace rob their toiling fellow-men.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.

Dear God! what hosts are trampled 'mid this killing
        crush for gold!
What noble hearts are sapp'd of love! what spirits lose
        life's hold!
Yet a merry world it might be, opulent for all, and aye,
With its lands that ask for labour, and its wealth that
        wastes away.
This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.

The leaf-tongues of the forest, and the flow'r-lips of the
        sod—
The happy Birds that hymn their raptures in the ear of
        God —
The summer wind that bringeth music over land and sea,
Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs
        to me—
This world is, full of beauty, as other worlds above;
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.