 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
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The Human Heart.
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TO THE Love of the Past AND Hope of the Future THESE ARE INSCRIBED.
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THE HOME OF SONG.
POET:Where is the Home of Song?
Tell me, O tuneful soul!
Where do the harmonies royally throng?
Where do the symphonies, swooning along,
Rivers of music roll?
MINNIE-SINGER:
Where the wide hill-sides glow,
Purple with clustering vine;
Where the blue myriads of violets grow—
Rivulets, rippling in rythmical flow,
Run to their father Rhine.
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Where the sweet austrial skies
Shimmer in golden rays;
Where the low lakelet alluringly lies,
Wooing the wantoning wind to arise,
Liquid with love-lorn lays.
SKALD:
Where the wild bards of yore
(Crown'd with the Boreal Fires)
Chanted their songs to the resonant shore—
Billows of music, in runical roar,
Surging from stormy lyres.
POET:
Not with the skies alone—
Not with the ocean's roll—
Not with the rivers, in musical moan,
Not with the zephyrs, in tremulant tone,
Dwelleth the songful soul.
CHORUS:
There is but one dear Home—
Thence we may ne'er depart;
There do the harmonies royally come—
There are the melodies nevermore dumb!—
Hush!—'tis the Human Heart!
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THE DREAM OF THE TOMBSTONE.
LISTEN—Love of mine! O listen,
While thy dewy eyelids glisten:
Let me press thy snowy forehead
With a lover's holy kiss.
'Twas a dream, O gentle maiden!
When my heart with grief was laden—
Yet I pray that God may never
Send a vision like to this;
Never plunge my dreaming spirit
In so darksome an abyss.
While thy dewy eyelids glisten:
Let me press thy snowy forehead
With a lover's holy kiss.
'Twas a dream, O gentle maiden!
When my heart with grief was laden—
Yet I pray that God may never
Send a vision like to this;
Never plunge my dreaming spirit
In so darksome an abyss.
O! methought in this my dreaming,
That the icy moonlight, gleaming
On my bosom, white and naked,
Did its ghastliness illume;
That my heart no more was beating,
And the tide of life, retreating,
Left me like a sculptur'd tablet,
Like a cold and marble tomb—
Like a column, white and solemn,
In the ghostly graveyard's gloom.
That the icy moonlight, gleaming
On my bosom, white and naked,
Did its ghastliness illume;
That my heart no more was beating,
And the tide of life, retreating,
Left me like a sculptur'd tablet,
Like a cold and marble tomb—
Like a column, white and solemn,
In the ghostly graveyard's gloom.
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Love of mine! oh! press me nearer—
Let mine eyes thy love-look mirror—
Let me feel thy heart's low beating
Fondly echoing mine own;
Give my heart the blest assurance
That my dreaming soul's endurance
Was a phantom of the midnight,
From the holy morning flown;
Let thy murmured blessing tell me
Thou art mine, and mine alone!
Let mine eyes thy love-look mirror—
Let me feel thy heart's low beating
Fondly echoing mine own;
Give my heart the blest assurance
That my dreaming soul's endurance
Was a phantom of the midnight,
From the holy morning flown;
Let thy murmured blessing tell me
Thou art mine, and mine alone!
Coldly streamed the moonbeam o'er me,
And a new-made grave before me
Lay, in loneliness and silence,
With its withered flow'rets spread,
And a myrtle wreath was braided
Round the willow, shrunk and faded,
That, with melancholy motion,
Waved above the grassy bed;
Like a solemn priest at midnight,
Swinging censers o'er the dead!
And a new-made grave before me
Lay, in loneliness and silence,
With its withered flow'rets spread,
And a myrtle wreath was braided
Round the willow, shrunk and faded,
That, with melancholy motion,
Waved above the grassy bed;
Like a solemn priest at midnight,
Swinging censers o'er the dead!
Then methought that, fair and beaming,
Thou didst come, in radiant seeming,
From the shadowy groups of cypress
That around the church-yard grew;
But another's arm was round thee,
And another's love had bound thee;
And to him who loved thee only
Was thy soul no longer true!
Then I felt my heart was breaking
As to me ye nearer drew.
Thou didst come, in radiant seeming,
From the shadowy groups of cypress
That around the church-yard grew;
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And another's love had bound thee;
And to him who loved thee only
Was thy soul no longer true!
Then I felt my heart was breaking
As to me ye nearer drew.
Clasp me closer, loved and dearest!
'Tis a dream that now thou hearest,
Yet my heart with fear is trembling
As its memory I recall!
Though thine eyes are on me shining—
Though thine arms my neck are twining,
And thy murmured words of blessing
On my heart like music fall,
Yet the memory of that vision
Shrouds me like an icy pall.
'Tis a dream that now thou hearest,
Yet my heart with fear is trembling
As its memory I recall!
Though thine eyes are on me shining—
Though thine arms my neck are twining,
And thy murmured words of blessing
On my heart like music fall,
Yet the memory of that vision
Shrouds me like an icy pall.
Thou and he whose arm upheld thee,
Thou and he whose love had spelled thee,
Stood together in the moonlight
That revealed my marble breast—
And, with lips that faltered never,
Thou didst swear to love forever
Him who stood in pride beside thee,
With his arms around thee prest;
While beneath, all cold and silent,
Lay the one who loved thee best.
Thou and he whose love had spelled thee,
Stood together in the moonlight
That revealed my marble breast—
And, with lips that faltered never,
Thou didst swear to love forever
Him who stood in pride beside thee,
With his arms around thee prest;
While beneath, all cold and silent,
Lay the one who loved thee best.
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Love of mine! this dream of terror,
God be thanked! is naught but error;
Yet its memory oft hath darkened,
Like a cloud, my sunny heart;
For its phantom thoughts betoken
How that heart, all crushed and broken,
Would be like the marble tombstone,
Should thy gentle love depart—
And the cypress round my myrtle
From the grave of hope would start!
God be thanked! is naught but error;
Yet its memory oft hath darkened,
Like a cloud, my sunny heart;
For its phantom thoughts betoken
How that heart, all crushed and broken,
Would be like the marble tombstone,
Should thy gentle love depart—
And the cypress round my myrtle
From the grave of hope would start!
MEMORIES.
AT times there falls across my heart
A beam of memory's golden light;
And mote-like fancies float and dart,
And glisten through that medium bright;
Till even the dust, that covers o'er
The hopes and fantasies of yore,
A silvery veil appears,
Beneath which gleam in life once more
The joys of other years.
A beam of memory's golden light;
And mote-like fancies float and dart,
And glisten through that medium bright;
Till even the dust, that covers o'er
The hopes and fantasies of yore,
A silvery veil appears,
Beneath which gleam in life once more
The joys of other years.
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But even like one with failing feet,
Who travels many a weary mile,
And plucks at times some flow'ret sweet,
Or marks a transient sunbeam smile;
Then on some hill his footsteps stays,
And calmly through the twilight haze
Reviews his devious track,—
So now my soul the Past surveys,
But is not tempted back.
Who travels many a weary mile,
And plucks at times some flow'ret sweet,
Or marks a transient sunbeam smile;
Then on some hill his footsteps stays,
And calmly through the twilight haze
Reviews his devious track,—
So now my soul the Past surveys,
But is not tempted back.
LOVING HEARTS.
O TELL me not the world is dark,
With shadows lengthening to the tomb!
Mine eyes would rather fondly mark
Where sunlight flashes through the gloom.
And I would fain in error dwell,
If truth such darksome lore imparts,
And rather die than e'er dispel
My dream of Loving Hearts.
With shadows lengthening to the tomb!
Mine eyes would rather fondly mark
Where sunlight flashes through the gloom.
And I would fain in error dwell,
If truth such darksome lore imparts,
And rather die than e'er dispel
My dream of Loving Hearts.
Their perfume would forsake the flowers,
The golden hues of summer fade;
The hush'd birds droop, in withered bowers,
And sunny brooklets sink to shade,—
And o'er the soul of living things
Would fall the gloom that ne'er departs,
If from our bright imaginings
Were banished Loving Hearts.
The golden hues of summer fade;
The hush'd birds droop, in withered bowers,
And sunny brooklets sink to shade,—
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Would fall the gloom that ne'er departs,
If from our bright imaginings
Were banished Loving Hearts.
They are around us and above—
Half-hidden, as in wild-wood leaves
Close nestles some white-breasted dove;
And he is happy who believes
That they are living, though unseen,
Like light, ere from the cloud it starts,—
And he is truly blest, I ween,
Who loves those Loving Hearts!
Half-hidden, as in wild-wood leaves
Close nestles some white-breasted dove;
And he is happy who believes
That they are living, though unseen,
Like light, ere from the cloud it starts,—
And he is truly blest, I ween,
Who loves those Loving Hearts!
MIDNIGHT IN THE CHURCH-YARD.
TWELVE o'clock! the night-cock croweth,
Croweth long and loud;
And I do feel my spirit sink,
And my heart within me bowed.
Croweth long and loud;
And I do feel my spirit sink,
And my heart within me bowed.
Through the night have I been listening,
Wearily through the night—
To the sounds within the old church-yard,
That sleepeth in my sight.
Wearily through the night—
To the sounds within the old church-yard,
That sleepeth in my sight.
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Shining down upon the tombstones,
Falleth the white moon-beam,
And silvereth all the darksome graves
With a bright and quiet gleam;—
Falleth the white moon-beam,
And silvereth all the darksome graves
With a bright and quiet gleam;—
And I do think, as mine eyes behold it,
That love, like the moon-beam bright,
Can clothe the dark and frightful grave
With a mantle of silver light.
That love, like the moon-beam bright,
Can clothe the dark and frightful grave
With a mantle of silver light.
Round and about, among the tombstones,
Glide the dark shades afar—
Like evil thoughts, that fly away
When shineth the pure love-star!
Glide the dark shades afar—
Like evil thoughts, that fly away
When shineth the pure love-star!
The lonely willow-trees are bending,
Sorrowful over the graves—
And the stars, above in heaven, shine
Through each one as it waves.
Sorrowful over the graves—
And the stars, above in heaven, shine
Through each one as it waves.
And thus, when sorrow's willow bendeth,
Over us sad and dark,
If we but look through the leaves above,
The beautiful stars we mark!
Over us sad and dark,
If we but look through the leaves above,
The beautiful stars we mark!
It is well for me to gaze, at midnight,
Into the church-yard old,
Where the mounds of the long-departed
Sleep in the moonbeam cold:—
Into the church-yard old,
Where the mounds of the long-departed
Sleep in the moonbeam cold:—
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For there cometh to my soul a lesson,
And when I have learned it well,
The weariness goes from off my heart,
Like the gloom where the moonbeam fell.
And when I have learned it well,
The weariness goes from off my heart,
Like the gloom where the moonbeam fell.
VESPERS.
I SIT beneath the oriel porch,
That looketh toward the western sky,
And watch, while Eve, the shepherdess,
Her white flocks hurries by:
And watch the truant cloudlets stray
Far off, upon the azure deeps,
To lose themselves amid the stars,
That troop adown the steeps.
Poor little lambkins of the air!
White-fleeced like Innocence below,—
That, yearning still for brighter paths,
Too oft astray will go!
That looketh toward the western sky,
And watch, while Eve, the shepherdess,
Her white flocks hurries by:
And watch the truant cloudlets stray
Far off, upon the azure deeps,
To lose themselves amid the stars,
That troop adown the steeps.
Poor little lambkins of the air!
White-fleeced like Innocence below,—
That, yearning still for brighter paths,
Too oft astray will go!
The blesséd Night comes down to me,
And nun-like chants her solemn prayers;
The stars she counteth, as her beads,
The moon upon her bosom bears—
A white and holy scapular—
Beneath whose crescent rim afar
The azure secret of the skies,
In wondrous quiet, lies.
O Moon! O Stars! O silent Night!
My teachers, as my theme, are ye:
Fair missals for my faith to read—
My hope's dear rosary.
And nun-like chants her solemn prayers;
The stars she counteth, as her beads,
The moon upon her bosom bears—
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Beneath whose crescent rim afar
The azure secret of the skies,
In wondrous quiet, lies.
O Moon! O Stars! O silent Night!
My teachers, as my theme, are ye:
Fair missals for my faith to read—
My hope's dear rosary.
THE RECOMPENSE.
THROUGH the mazy market-place
A gentle Poet thrid his way;
Sad yet beauteous was his face—
Sad yet sweet his lay.
A gentle Poet thrid his way;
Sad yet beauteous was his face—
Sad yet sweet his lay.
In the people's eyes looked he,
(As he would read each stranger heart,)
While his song so solemnly
Talked with each apart.
(As he would read each stranger heart,)
While his song so solemnly
Talked with each apart.
“Silver have I none,” he said—
“Nor golden store have I,” quoth he;
Thus he sung as on he sped,
Harping solemnly.
“Nor golden store have I,” quoth he;
Thus he sung as on he sped,
Harping solemnly.
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Then the people knelt them down,
With golden gifts and jewels rare—
Bringing for his brow a crown,
Woven of flowerets fair.
With golden gifts and jewels rare—
Bringing for his brow a crown,
Woven of flowerets fair.
But the Poet's harp no more
With silver singing gently thrilled,
And his voice, so sweet before,
Evermore was stilled.
With silver singing gently thrilled,
And his voice, so sweet before,
Evermore was stilled.
For the jewels and the gold
Were broidered on his shroud, (they say,)
And upon his bosom cold,
Withering flowerets lay.
Were broidered on his shroud, (they say,)
And upon his bosom cold,
Withering flowerets lay.
A FANTASIE.
I SIT beside my gentle one:
Her hand is laid in mine;
And thus we watch the parting sun
In golden haze decline.
Across the fields the shadows creep,
And up the misty hill;
And we our twilight vigils keep,
At our own cottage-sill.
Her hand is laid in mine;
And thus we watch the parting sun
In golden haze decline.
Across the fields the shadows creep,
And up the misty hill;
And we our twilight vigils keep,
At our own cottage-sill.
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The distant brooklet's murmurs come,
Like bell-notes through the leaves;
And many an insect's mazy hum
Its dreamy music weaves.
The dove's last note, in rippling beats,
Upon the air departs;
The breath of all our garden sweets
Is creeping to our hearts.
Like bell-notes through the leaves;
And many an insect's mazy hum
Its dreamy music weaves.
The dove's last note, in rippling beats,
Upon the air departs;
The breath of all our garden sweets
Is creeping to our hearts.
The russet woodbine round our porch,
In clustering ringlets twines;
The honeysuckle's crimson torch
Gleams through the dusky vines;
The sunset rays are trembling now
Amid the trellis-bars—
They paint upon my darling's brow
A glory like the stars.
In clustering ringlets twines;
The honeysuckle's crimson torch
Gleams through the dusky vines;
The sunset rays are trembling now
Amid the trellis-bars—
They paint upon my darling's brow
A glory like the stars.
Her cheek is nestling on my breast,
Her eyes are bright with tears;
A prayer, half-breathed and half-represt,
My listening spirit hears.
Oh! blesséd be the changeless love
That glorifies my life!
All doubt, all fear, all guile above—
My own true-hearted wife!
Her eyes are bright with tears;
A prayer, half-breathed and half-represt,
My listening spirit hears.
Oh! blesséd be the changeless love
That glorifies my life!
All doubt, all fear, all guile above—
My own true-hearted wife!
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SPIRIT-LIFE.
IN the lone and silent midnight—
When the stars, from darkness creeping,
One by one, like blesséd beacons,
Sentinel our sleeping,—
Then I feel within my spirit
Breathings of a purer life—
Voices of an inward music,
Calming outward strife.
When the stars, from darkness creeping,
One by one, like blesséd beacons,
Sentinel our sleeping,—
Then I feel within my spirit
Breathings of a purer life—
Voices of an inward music,
Calming outward strife.
Light breaks in upon my slumber—
Light of more than earthly gladness;
Low and sweet come many whispers,
Soft with heavenly sadness;
And around me, mute and saint-like,
Forms, in love and wisdom bright,
Move through air with shadowy footsteps,
Smile with eyes of light.
Light of more than earthly gladness;
Low and sweet come many whispers,
Soft with heavenly sadness;
And around me, mute and saint-like,
Forms, in love and wisdom bright,
Move through air with shadowy footsteps,
Smile with eyes of light.
Each hath sorrow in its features,
Yet a high and holy meekness—
Each hath soul within its glances,
Conquering mortal weakness;
Each fair form, that followeth slowly,
Fairer seems than that before—
Less of dull and earthly seeming,
And of heaven more.
Yet a high and holy meekness—
Each hath soul within its glances,
Conquering mortal weakness;
Each fair form, that followeth slowly,
Fairer seems than that before—
Less of dull and earthly seeming,
And of heaven more.
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And as each one toward me turneth,
In its mystic features trembling
Shines a blesséd soul transfigured,
My own soul resembling;
And, with tearful reverence viewing
That of which my soul is part,
Listening to the eternal future,
Bends my earthly heart.
In its mystic features trembling
Shines a blesséd soul transfigured,
My own soul resembling;
And, with tearful reverence viewing
That of which my soul is part,
Listening to the eternal future,
Bends my earthly heart.
SPIRIT-LOVE.
TELL me, ye who long have threaded
All the mazes of the heart!
Are not life and death still wedded—
Each of each a part?
All the mazes of the heart!
Are not life and death still wedded—
Each of each a part?
Once a gentle form before me
Shed a light around my soul;
Holy eyes were bending o'er me,
Music through my spirit stole.
Once my inmost life was plighted
Fondly with a saint on earth,
Like two music notes united—
Notes that sever in their birth.
Yet not severed we, though parted,
Still, in truth, our souls are one;
Though on earth the gentle-hearted
Hath her blesséd mission done.
Still, for me in sweet communion,
Lives the form that seemeth dead.
Love was once our chain of union,
Still with love our souls are wed.
Shed a light around my soul;
Holy eyes were bending o'er me,
Music through my spirit stole.
Once my inmost life was plighted
Fondly with a saint on earth,
Like two music notes united—
Notes that sever in their birth.
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Still, in truth, our souls are one;
Though on earth the gentle-hearted
Hath her blesséd mission done.
Still, for me in sweet communion,
Lives the form that seemeth dead.
Love was once our chain of union,
Still with love our souls are wed.
In the spirit's tranquil vesper,
When the prayer of love ascends,
Comes a soft, responsive whisper—
With my voiceless musing blends.
Then, as earth's dim shadows faintly
Flit, and from mine eyes depart,
Dwells with me a presence saintly,
Dove-like, folded near my heart.
Tell me, then, ye spirit-seeing!When the prayer of love ascends,
Comes a soft, responsive whisper—
With my voiceless musing blends.
Then, as earth's dim shadows faintly
Flit, and from mine eyes depart,
Dwells with me a presence saintly,
Dove-like, folded near my heart.
Is it truth the angel saith?
Is not love the chain of being—
Love the lord of death?
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SEEMINGS.
IN the earth's womb all loveliness doth grow!So low estate may garb the trusting soul
With beauty pure as the immortals know.
Who reads his heart first learneth self-control;
And deemeth that which multitudes extol
As all too mean to chain his lightest thought.
Behold! how glorious are the hues enwrought
Upon the rainbow's web!—yet are they naught
But exhalations from the fens o'erfraught
With stagnant dews, and but reflect the glow
Of that which will destroy them! Even so
Are man's idolatries but mocking show;
They taint the air which they invade below,
And, tried by higher light, a borrowed radiance throw.
FAITH IN LOVE.
Whoso in Love believeth, him I trust—Whoso despiseth Love, suspect I must!
Though others' fasehood strew my heart with dust,
Mine own clear faith shall burn beneath the crust!
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BEN-YUSEF.
O FRIEND! this simple tale I would impart:—The wise Ben-Yusef, of the lowly heart,
Dream'd that his son was pierced by Azrael's dart.
In vain El Hakim came, with leech's craft,—
No mortal hand could pluck the fatal shaft!
But, lo! as Yusef sorrowing looked above,
A voice said, “Father!” in low tones of love;
While, clothed in robes of gold and azure dyes,
His Selim smiled on him with lustrous eyes.
“O joy!” cried Yusef—“Selim hath not died!
“Allah be praised! the arrow glanced aside!”
“Thou sayest sooth!” the radiant shape replied—
“To deem that Azrael conquered was not well;
“For he thou lovest lives—'twas Death that fell!”
THE THREE MARIES.
THE Virgin, the Disciple, the Redeemed—The Mother, Friend, and lowly Magdalen!
In Jesu's eyes alike, through love, they seemed:
Are they, then, equal? Yea, I say, Amen!
Virgin'd was she all womankind above,
Whose virgin bosom bore divinity;
So, haply, she who sinned, yet “much did love,”
Through love divine re-bears virginity.
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LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.
LOVE is a Butterfly, lady!
Flitting from flower to flower—
Pausing to sip
Each nectarine lip,
And dreaming in every bower:
But Friendship, the Dove, o'er Life's waters dark,
Ever flies home to the Heart's dear Ark.
Flitting from flower to flower—
Pausing to sip
Each nectarine lip,
And dreaming in every bower:
But Friendship, the Dove, o'er Life's waters dark,
Ever flies home to the Heart's dear Ark.
Love is a Nautilus, lady!
Trimming its tiny sail—
Skipping in glee
Over beauty's sea,
And dancing with every gale:
But Friendship, dear lady! may ne'er depart,
Needle-like, pointing the magnet Heart.
Trimming its tiny sail—
Skipping in glee
Over beauty's sea,
And dancing with every gale:
But Friendship, dear lady! may ne'er depart,
Needle-like, pointing the magnet Heart.
Love is a Gossamer, lady!
Floating in golden air—
Ever astray,
With zephyrs at play,
And volatile every where:
But Friendship's a star in the Heart's blue sky,
Over Gossamer—Nautilus—Butterfly!
Floating in golden air—
Ever astray,
With zephyrs at play,
And volatile every where:
But Friendship's a star in the Heart's blue sky,
Over Gossamer—Nautilus—Butterfly!
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HERRE I LOVE.
AN OLD-STYLE MADRIGAL.
I.
I KNOWE a littel hande:'Tys ye softeste yn ye lande—
And I feele yts pressure blande
Whyle I synge:
Lylie-whyte, and restynge nowe,
Lyke a rose-leafe on my browe,
As a dove myghte fanne my browe
Wythe yts winge.
Welle I pryze, (alle handes above,)
Thys deare hande of Herre I love!
II.
I knowe a littel foote—Very connyngelye 'tys putt
In a dayntie littel boote,
Where yt hydes:
Lyke a shuttel yt ever flyes
Backe and forthe before myne eyes,
Weavynge musyque forre myne eyes,
As yt glydes.
Welle I pryze, (alle feete above,)
Thys deare foote of Herre I love!
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III.
I knowe a littel harte,Yt ys free from courtlie arte,
And I owne yt (everie parte)
Forre alle tyme:
Ever yt beates wythe musyque tone—
Ever an echoe of myne owne,
Ever keepynge wythe myne owne
Holie chime.
Welle I pryze, (alle hartes above,)
Thys deare harte of Herre I love!
CANZONET.
I AM alone, my own love!Thou art not near me now:
Yet in my dreams it seems, love!
At thy dear feet I bow.
Still thou art brought, in thought, love!
Close to my yearning heart:
Still on thy breast I rest, love!
Even when far thou art.
'Tis my soul meets and greets, love!
Thine, as it floats to me:
Dost thou not feel it steal, love!
Softly a-near to thee?
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ANACREONTIQUE.
JULIA! I charge thee, fill for meA goblet of the Orient wine!
Now Luna's yellow tresses twine
Their gold amid the jet of thine,
I drink, my love! to thee.
Ay!—fling thy glowing arms, my girl!
About my neck, and lay thy brow
Upon my bosom closely now,
Until my breath shall fan the curl
That wantons with my lips—
The jealous Moon shall learn, full soon,
Thine eyes are her eclipse!—
Fill high! fill high!—or live, or die,
I clasp thee in mine arms—
By Heaven! I swear, that sky and air
Are drunken with thy charms!
My soul is trembling on my breath—
One kiss!—and thou may'st taste it!
“Soft, dearest! soft!” it murmureth—
“Take not thy lips away,” it saith:
“Taste all—but do not waste it!”
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LOVE'S EYES.
LIGHT of my life! thy glorious eyes
Like stars above my heart arise—
Like stars that shine in midnight skies.
Like stars above my heart arise—
Like stars that shine in midnight skies.
Down in my bosom's deep they beam,
Like star-rays in some darksome stream—
Reflected there, mine own they seem.
Like star-rays in some darksome stream—
Reflected there, mine own they seem.
Reflected in my soul thou art—
And thy dear eyes of me are part:
By their pure light I read my heart.
And thy dear eyes of me are part:
By their pure light I read my heart.
Before their beams, so bright and clear,
My shadowy doubtings disappear;
And Hope is now where once was Fear.
My shadowy doubtings disappear;
And Hope is now where once was Fear.
Dear Eyes!—do not my heart forsake!
Shine, like the stars within the lake—
Shine, and the darksome shadows break!
Shine, like the stars within the lake—
Shine, and the darksome shadows break!
284
LOVE-SONG.
I AM close beside thee, dearest!—
Round me are thy white arms thrown:
'Tis my beating heart thou hearest,
Dearest! beating with thine own.
Yet, ah me! a cloud is dimming
Thy fair soul with shadowy fears:
And thy dark eyes now are swimming,
Brimming, with their gushing tears.
Round me are thy white arms thrown:
'Tis my beating heart thou hearest,
Dearest! beating with thine own.
Yet, ah me! a cloud is dimming
Thy fair soul with shadowy fears:
And thy dark eyes now are swimming,
Brimming, with their gushing tears.
Tell me, dear one! why thou mournest:
Canst thou doubt my love for thee?
Can I doubt that thou returnest
Earnest, trusting love to me?
'Tis no dream, of poets' musing,
That our mingled hearts we teach;
For our lives we are transfusing—
Losing each one's soul in each.
Canst thou doubt my love for thee?
Can I doubt that thou returnest
Earnest, trusting love to me?
'Tis no dream, of poets' musing,
That our mingled hearts we teach;
For our lives we are transfusing—
Losing each one's soul in each.
In the well-depths of our feeling,
In the home of endless truth,
We have hushed our love's revealing—
Sealing its eternal youth.
Twine thine arms, my love! around me—
Lay thy bosom close to mine;
I thank God that thou hast bound me,
Wound me, in this love of thine.
In the home of endless truth,
We have hushed our love's revealing—
Sealing its eternal youth.
Twine thine arms, my love! around me—
Lay thy bosom close to mine;
I thank God that thou hast bound me,
Wound me, in this love of thine.
285
ABSENT.
THE ruddy bridegroom of the Night
Has entered to his ladye's halls;
And softly, over mortal sight,
Their nuptial curtain falls.
I see the rosy clouds no more,
For they were handmaids of the sun,
That danced unto his chamber-door,
Then vanished, one by one.
Has entered to his ladye's halls;
And softly, over mortal sight,
Their nuptial curtain falls.
I see the rosy clouds no more,
For they were handmaids of the sun,
That danced unto his chamber-door,
Then vanished, one by one.
And now the twilight hour has come;
The tender twilight's mystic hues,
And low winds, full of kisses dumb,
And silver-footed dews.
The song of birds, the breath of flowers,
The zephyr's thrill, are greeting me,—
Yet pass I wearily the hours—
For—I am not with thee.
The tender twilight's mystic hues,
And low winds, full of kisses dumb,
And silver-footed dews.
The song of birds, the breath of flowers,
The zephyr's thrill, are greeting me,—
Yet pass I wearily the hours—
For—I am not with thee.
THE NOURISHER.
“Give me!” the earth-born cries, and from the earthComes food, wherewith our mortal life hath birth:
“Give me!” in turn cries earth, and we deny—
Ah! fools! earth feeds, too, Immortality
286
HEART-MIRRORS.
LOVERS once in magic mirrors
Sought their distant loves to see—
Calmed their fears, or woke new terrors,
By the power of glamourie.
Sought their distant loves to see—
Calmed their fears, or woke new terrors,
By the power of glamourie.
Ah! there needeth for my being
Magic skill nor wizard art—
Still thy gentle form I'm seeing
In the Mirror of my Heart.
Magic skill nor wizard art—
Still thy gentle form I'm seeing
In the Mirror of my Heart.
Still, as Fortune (oft beguiling)
Greets me with a honied kiss,—
In my heart-glass, bright and smiling,
I behold thee share my bliss.
Greets me with a honied kiss,—
In my heart-glass, bright and smiling,
I behold thee share my bliss.
And when o'er my spirit lonely
Falleth sorrow's darksome cloud,
In that glass I see thee only
Sad, and dark, and sorely bowed.
Falleth sorrow's darksome cloud,
In that glass I see thee only
Sad, and dark, and sorely bowed.
Loved and loving still are we, love!
Mirrored are our mutual hearts:
I in thee, and thou in me, love!
Till the life of both departs.
Mirrored are our mutual hearts:
I in thee, and thou in me, love!
Till the life of both departs.
287
MY MISTRESSE.
I.
MY mistresse hath a loving lip—The honey-bees might cluster on't!
Or, chaliced in its rosy font,
Ambrosial kisses sip
But, oh! her rippling laughter falls,
In silver beats, serenely clear,
Or, cooing like the wooing calls
Of some enamored dove,
Low broods upon my charméd ear—
A rythm of perfect love.
II.
My mistresse hath a queenly eye—Its fringes vail, but cannot hide,
The lustrous shafts of royal pride
That in its darkness lie.
But, oh! when passion's dreamy spell
Is trembling through her tender soul,
And feeling's deep revealings quell
The maiden's haughtier art,
Ah! then, beyond all proud control,
O'er-swims her loving heart.
288
III.
My mistresse hath a forehead fair,Where moony lustres softly glide—
The while, like shadows glorified,
Her thoughts are mirrored there.
Therein I read each tender mood—
Therein I trace her blesséd soul,
Arrayed in radiant maidenhood,
And shining into mine,
As if a tranquil glory stole
From out some holy shrine.
IV.
My mistresse hath a dainty cheek,Where roses bleed through melting snow!
How soft its touch, if I did know,
I might not choose to speak.
But, oh! the light that trembles there
When, softly on my sobbing lute,
To daring Love's despairing prayer
I tune the thrilling key:
My very heart it maketh mute—
To think she loveth me!
289
THE LOST PLEIAD.
AH! cruel one! that sayst thy marble heart
Can feel an inward sob!
More fitting mine, oppressed with bitter smart,
Should inly throb;
Which thou of peace (unkind one that thou art!)
Didst coldly rob.
Can feel an inward sob!
More fitting mine, oppressed with bitter smart,
Should inly throb;
Which thou of peace (unkind one that thou art!)
Didst coldly rob.
I laid at thy dear feet my laurel wreath,
From Glory's garden won;
Full gladly cast I, then, my heart beneath,
O chosen one!
That heart which, even now, (our dear Lord seeth!)
Is thine alone.
From Glory's garden won;
Full gladly cast I, then, my heart beneath,
O chosen one!
That heart which, even now, (our dear Lord seeth!)
Is thine alone.
But thou, who shouldst have queen'd it o'er thy mates,
(An eagle-wedded dove!)
And walk'd with me through Honor's starry gates,
All scorn above,—
How wilt thou match with less-aspiring fates
Thy high-born love?
(An eagle-wedded dove!)
And walk'd with me through Honor's starry gates,
All scorn above,—
How wilt thou match with less-aspiring fates
Thy high-born love?
290
Like star that drifted o'er mine upward way,
Thy love did seem to me;
And all my life beneath its presence lay
Like charméd sea!
Still glorious thou—but earthward and astray:
God pity thee!
Thy love did seem to me;
And all my life beneath its presence lay
Like charméd sea!
Still glorious thou—but earthward and astray:
God pity thee!
A LOVING LIFE.
LET Love inspire thee, and thy life shall beA daily prayer to Heaven for sinful earth:
For by true Love hath all true virtue birth;
And He, whose life was Love, shall strengthen thee.
For Love, like perfume in the floweret's cup,
Its balmy influence still rendereth up,
To fill each breeze with sweetness like its own:
Thus by our loving lives a sway is thrown
(Even though that sway to us be all unknown)
O'er many a wanderer in this world of guile;
And thus a SOUL may cost us but a SMILE!
Let then our Love in loving deeds be shown;
For, as their fragrance lifts itself above,
Be sure that many a heart is lifted thus by Love.
291
TO ONE DEPARTED.
ART thou not near me, with thine earnest eyes,
That weep forth sympathy!—thy holy brow,
Whereon such sweet imaginings do rise?
Art thou not near me, when I call thee now,
Maid of my childhood's vow?
That weep forth sympathy!—thy holy brow,
Whereon such sweet imaginings do rise?
Art thou not near me, when I call thee now,
Maid of my childhood's vow?
Now I behold thee, with thy sorrowing smile,
And thy deep soul, up-looking from thy face,
While, sweetly crossed upon thy breast the while,
Thy white hands do thy holy heart embrace,
In its calm dwelling-place!
And thy deep soul, up-looking from thy face,
While, sweetly crossed upon thy breast the while,
Thy white hands do thy holy heart embrace,
In its calm dwelling-place!
CRUSHED FLOWERS.
OUT of the wildered petals of a flower,Struck heedlessly by violent hand to earth,
Ye may some still unrifled sweets extract,
And breathe the past life of what now lies dead.
So, haply, gazing on a ruined heart,
Whose bruiséd leaves disclose the spoiler's touch,
Bethink ye, if 'tis worth some trifling care
To search for lingering perfume in the wreck,
Nor wholly crush it by unthinking tread!
292
THE SERPENT.
DOWN a lonesome mountain-pass,
Toward the dim and silent vale,
Rode a warrior clad in armor—
Shining helm and coat of mail.
Toward the dim and silent vale,
Rode a warrior clad in armor—
Shining helm and coat of mail.
And the warrior's mailéd hand
On his iron bosom press'd—
“Woe is me!” he murmured sadly—
“There is torture in my breast.”
On his iron bosom press'd—
“Woe is me!” he murmured sadly—
“There is torture in my breast.”
For beneath his gleaming mail,
And beneath his hauberk gay,
Evermore a deadly serpent
On the warrior's bosom lay.
And beneath his hauberk gay,
Evermore a deadly serpent
On the warrior's bosom lay.
Down the dark and solemn vale,
Where the sable river flowed,
To the toll-gate at the ferry,
Faster still the horseman rode.
Where the sable river flowed,
To the toll-gate at the ferry,
Faster still the horseman rode.
And the maiden at the gate,
Spoke in accents sweet and low,
Saying, “Rest thee, wearied rider:
Farther on thou must not go!”
Spoke in accents sweet and low,
Saying, “Rest thee, wearied rider:
Farther on thou must not go!”
293
“I will take thee in my arms,
And my heart shall be thy rest,
And no longer shalt thou journey,
With the serpent in thy breast.”
And my heart shall be thy rest,
And no longer shalt thou journey,
With the serpent in thy breast.”
Then she kissed the warrior's brow,
And he felt her balmy breath:
And the serpent gnawed no longer,
For the maiden's name was—Death.
And he felt her balmy breath:
And the serpent gnawed no longer,
For the maiden's name was—Death.
THE TRUE VISION.
O HEART! that hopes, believes, and loves all things!O Soul! which knows not that itself exists!
I would the Soul were plumed with the Heart's wings,
To bear it from the world's enshrouding mists.
Methinks that Love is the true vision of man,
By which he seeth no longer “through a glass
Darkly, but face to face.” Haply we pass
In death through loving change—whereby the ban
Shall seem a blessing, and the veil of earth
Fall from us, like the scales from blinded Paul,
When that his soul awoke in its new birth,
And he, from hating all things, loved them all;
So may our soul's eyes, pierced by light above,
Rejoice in blinding Death, that leads from Hate to Love!
294
TO A DYING SISTER.
DEAR one! Thou diest!
And my crush'd heart is with its sorrow mute:
Its sighs alone may syllable farewell,
And with their throbbing whispers thrill my lute—
Poor lute! that knows not what the heart would tell.
And my crush'd heart is with its sorrow mute:
Its sighs alone may syllable farewell,
And with their throbbing whispers thrill my lute—
Poor lute! that knows not what the heart would tell.
Farewell! sweet heart of love!
Thou hast unlock'd the fountains of deep tears
In my long desert bosom—thou hast stirred
My spirit's darksome waters, and my fears
And doubts have vanished at thy healing word.
Thou hast unlock'd the fountains of deep tears
In my long desert bosom—thou hast stirred
My spirit's darksome waters, and my fears
And doubts have vanished at thy healing word.
Even like the gentle spring,
Gilding with sunlight all my darksome hours,
Camest thou before me, beautiful and bright!
Thy voice was as the breath of pure delight—
By the wayside I saw thy smile, like flowers.
Gilding with sunlight all my darksome hours,
Camest thou before me, beautiful and bright!
Thy voice was as the breath of pure delight—
By the wayside I saw thy smile, like flowers.
God claims thee, gentle one!
Even now the joy of heaven's imaginings,
With angel vesture robes thy holy heart—
Thy beautiful thoughts upbear thee with white wings:
God claims thee, darling one! We part—WE PART!
Even now the joy of heaven's imaginings,
With angel vesture robes thy holy heart—
Thy beautiful thoughts upbear thee with white wings:
God claims thee, darling one! We part—WE PART!
| Duganne's Poetical Works | |