 | Aonian Hours; And Other Poems |  |
129
To ******.
The Greeks, when o'er a buried friend
They raised the monumental stone,
Reared high one pillar which might lend
Memorial of his virtues gone;
And round the sculptured column high,
They twined the sweetest summer-flowers,
Gladdening the conscious passer-by,
With beauty breathing in all hours.
They raised the monumental stone,
Reared high one pillar which might lend
Memorial of his virtues gone;
And round the sculptured column high,
They twined the sweetest summer-flowers,
Gladdening the conscious passer-by,
With beauty breathing in all hours.
There flourished they in dark and bright,
Or if, oppressed by tempests rude,
The thunder-storm their leaves might blight,
The morrow saw those blooms renewed.
So in thy absence, dearest maid!
Bright monument of thee I build,
And thus my soul, in sun and shade,
Is with enchanting memories filled.
Or if, oppressed by tempests rude,
The thunder-storm their leaves might blight,
The morrow saw those blooms renewed.
So in thy absence, dearest maid!
Bright monument of thee I build,
And thus my soul, in sun and shade,
Is with enchanting memories filled.
130
For round thy Image fair and kind,
A thousand flowers of thought I cast,
Which breathe across the waste of mind
The smile of social summers past;
In joy and grief, suspense and pain,
When prouder things like recreants flee,
In lonely fondness they remain,
Not vainly—since they speak of thee.
A thousand flowers of thought I cast,
Which breathe across the waste of mind
The smile of social summers past;
In joy and grief, suspense and pain,
When prouder things like recreants flee,
In lonely fondness they remain,
Not vainly—since they speak of thee.
Tis true, the tempest might descend,
And tear those flowers of life away,
But though their blighted branch it rend,
The trophy could not all decay:
The memory of thy form and worth,
That mightier column should not die;
Unlike those pillars of the earth,
Which fall when earthquakes pass them by.
And tear those flowers of life away,
But though their blighted branch it rend,
The trophy could not all decay:
The memory of thy form and worth,
That mightier column should not die;
Unlike those pillars of the earth,
Which fall when earthquakes pass them by.
Through all the thunders of the soul,
Wrath—hate—wrong—jealousy—and pride,
'Twould stand, unheeding as they roll,
And proudly bid them be defied.
But shouldst Thou change—I dare not take
One thought on what thou hadst been then,
The pile which ages could not shake,
No human hands could rear again!
Wrath—hate—wrong—jealousy—and pride,
'Twould stand, unheeding as they roll,
And proudly bid them be defied.
131
One thought on what thou hadst been then,
The pile which ages could not shake,
No human hands could rear again!
But o'er the mournful ruins yet
I'd bid the weeping ivies twine,
For though estranged, I could not set
Oblivion's seal on aught of thine:
Twined in the immortal cells of thought,
Her wizard ivy Grief must be,
He only who had seen thee not,
Could wear no aching heart for thee.
I'd bid the weeping ivies twine,
For though estranged, I could not set
Oblivion's seal on aught of thine:
Twined in the immortal cells of thought,
Her wizard ivy Grief must be,
He only who had seen thee not,
Could wear no aching heart for thee.
| Aonian Hours; And Other Poems | |