On a Rainbow at Night

The bow that spans the storm is beautiful;
Yet— how we view it! from our very cradle
E'en to the extreme of our most ripened wisdom
'T is treated as a toy. Philosophers,
With bits of glass and one small beam of light,
Make mimic rainbows upon college walls,
And lecture upon raindrops— how the light
Impinges, is refracted, bent and formed,
Ending with pious hintings to the class
With what analogies God's light is sent—
How mathematical his heavenly bow!
— The painter daubs it on his varnished cloth,
And with gamboge and verdigris, makes out
A tolerable rainbow — to be viewed,
Admired, and bought by folly's connoisseurs.
— As silly as the rest, the mother lifts
Her squalling child, whom rattle will not please,
Nor pap, nor coral with its silver bells,
To look upon the rainbow— But too gross
Such gaze — and, folding up its heavenly robes,
"Like as a garment," on the meteor rolls.

"The Heavens shall pass away, as doth a scroll"—
Like as a scroll they stand. O! who that marked
That page of Heaven's bright book— when a new light
Was broad upon his vision — (when the world
Turned from the sun, and the sun's worldly day)
But thought—all else forgot—but thought on Thee;
Nor painted — nor philosophized — nor smiled.

The sun is of our system, but the stars
Are set in Heaven. The day is made for man.
— At such a time — with such a gloried sky,
Even man feels that the night is made for God.