 | The collected poems of William Ellery Channing the younger, 1817-1901 |  |
1004
EPITHALAMIUM
(1862)
Friend! in thy new relation
There is no provocation
For Thought's demise;
Be all more nobly brave!
Assist each slave,
And yet more share
Thy hours and thoughts and care
With others,
Thy kinsmen and thy brothers!
And more a patriot be
Through Love's wise chemistry!
There is no provocation
For Thought's demise;
Be all more nobly brave!
Assist each slave,
And yet more share
Thy hours and thoughts and care
With others,
Thy kinsmen and thy brothers!
And more a patriot be
Through Love's wise chemistry!
Long have I watched thee rule
Thyself; and if a still
And lustrous guardian school
Thee to a stiller patience now,
In this dear vow,
And nearer to the stars
(Save that all-reddening Mars),
More consonant with the train
Of evening and sweet Hesperus,
And her who walks the night,
In blushing radiance strayed,
A well-proportioned light,
A sea-born maid,
Who from old Ocean's foam
Laughed, and made men at home;
Thyself; and if a still
And lustrous guardian school
Thee to a stiller patience now,
In this dear vow,
And nearer to the stars
(Save that all-reddening Mars),
More consonant with the train
Of evening and sweet Hesperus,
And her who walks the night,
In blushing radiance strayed,
1005
A sea-born maid,
Who from old Ocean's foam
Laughed, and made men at home;
In truth, if this prove so,—
If her soft beams
Silver the rushing streams,
And gild the moss
Where the ancestral brothers toss—
Dark oaks and murmuring pines,
Stags of a thousand tines;
These rocks so grave, if they
Smile with humected day,
And silken zephyrs thrill
The maple's foliage, where the bird
Rose-breasted rings
With Music's clearest springs,—
What then?
Though softer, we're still men!
If her soft beams
Silver the rushing streams,
And gild the moss
Where the ancestral brothers toss—
Dark oaks and murmuring pines,
Stags of a thousand tines;
These rocks so grave, if they
Smile with humected day,
And silken zephyrs thrill
The maple's foliage, where the bird
Rose-breasted rings
With Music's clearest springs,—
What then?
Though softer, we're still men!
| The collected poems of William Ellery Channing the younger, 1817-1901 | |