 | A few verses of many years |  |
26
MY ROOM.
I wish I could bring you here,
If only for a minute,
That you might see my room
And everything that is in it.
If only for a minute,
That you might see my room
And everything that is in it.
But as there are no carpets
In these degenerate days,
Like those in Arabian story
Which could take you from place to place,
In these degenerate days,
Like those in Arabian story
Which could take you from place to place,
I must try what my pen can do
As a sort of magic wand.
I'll describe to you the room,
And I hope you'll understand.
As a sort of magic wand.
I'll describe to you the room,
And I hope you'll understand.
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First and foremost, then, you must know
That it's up on the third floor
In old Massachusetts Hall
That's a hundred years old and more;
That it's up on the third floor
In old Massachusetts Hall
That's a hundred years old and more;
As I dare say you would think
If you saw those heavy beams
That go across the ceiling
Like so many broad seams.
If you saw those heavy beams
That go across the ceiling
Like so many broad seams.
But they are not beams of oak
With carvings rich and rare
And all grown black with age;—
I'm sure I wish they were.
With carvings rich and rare
And all grown black with age;—
I'm sure I wish they were.
Two windows are in the room,
Both on the northern side,—
Very pleasant to sit at in summer
When they are open wide;
Both on the northern side,—
Very pleasant to sit at in summer
When they are open wide;
And from them you look out
On the elms and the College Green;
To the left the barren Common
And the wide street are seen,
On the elms and the College Green;
To the left the barren Common
And the wide street are seen,
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And that modest little church,
So pleasant to the eye,
That was built by our English fathers
In the years so long gone by.
So pleasant to the eye,
That was built by our English fathers
In the years so long gone by.
And among the many elms
You see that noblest one,—
That grand old tree with its broad boughs
Once sheltered Washington.
You see that noblest one,—
That grand old tree with its broad boughs
Once sheltered Washington.
All this and more you may see
In the pleasant summer-tide;
But now it 's better within
By the cheerful fireside.
In the pleasant summer-tide;
But now it 's better within
By the cheerful fireside.
On the left, between the doors,
Opposite the fireplace,
You will see my greatest treasures
In that old-fashioned case.
Opposite the fireplace,
You will see my greatest treasures
In that old-fashioned case.
Yet my books are few enough,
And none of them are rare;
But you'll find some good old friends,
And perhaps some new ones there.
And none of them are rare;
But you'll find some good old friends,
And perhaps some new ones there.
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Upon the centre shelf
Are Shakspere's noble plays;
And some of the many poets
Who sing in our own days.
Are Shakspere's noble plays;
And some of the many poets
Who sing in our own days.
And there is glorious Milton
Whom suffering could not bow,
And melancholy Dante
With wrinkled cheek and brow.
Whom suffering could not bow,
And melancholy Dante
With wrinkled cheek and brow.
On the upper shelf is Schiller,—
Youth living in the man,—
And next the Greek tragedians;
Greek and Barbarian!
Youth living in the man,—
And next the Greek tragedians;
Greek and Barbarian!
And “visionary Coleridge,”
That German-English mind,—
Three volumes of his poems
And some prose works you'll find.
That German-English mind,—
Three volumes of his poems
And some prose works you'll find.
For philosophy, there 's Jouffroy,
A fair, clear-minded man,
And Benjamin Constant,
And much-abused Cousin.
A fair, clear-minded man,
And Benjamin Constant,
And much-abused Cousin.
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And now look at this ancient table
With its nicely inlaid top
And its prettily carved acorns;
Each drawer has its brass drop.
With its nicely inlaid top
And its prettily carved acorns;
Each drawer has its brass drop.
And near it the antique chair
So very prim and tall,
With its straight cane-woven back,
And the carved rose crowning all.
So very prim and tall,
With its straight cane-woven back,
And the carved rose crowning all.
How many a gray-haired man
Has rested in that chair;
How many a bright-eyed child
With softly curling hair!
Has rested in that chair;
How many a bright-eyed child
With softly curling hair!
Or some young loving mother,
With half-arrested breath,
Has sat and watched her darling
Slumbering into death.
With half-arrested breath,
Has sat and watched her darling
Slumbering into death.
But now I wish you were in it,
Dear heart, so true and fond!
You should be there, this minute,
If my pen were a magic wand.
Dear heart, so true and fond!
You should be there, this minute,
If my pen were a magic wand.
1842.
| A few verses of many years | |