Hear the Voice

Here the voice of the Bard,
Who present, past and future, sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walk’d among the ancient trees;

Calling the lapséd soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might control
The starry pole,
And fallen, fallen light renew!

O Earth, O Earth, return!
Arise from out the dewy grass!
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises form the slumbrous mass.

‘Turn away no more;
Why wilt thou turn away?
The starry floor,
The watery shore,
Is given thee till the break of day.’

William Blake