Madmoments: or First Verseattempts :: :: University of Virginia Library

See, on this mean Room and its scanty store
Of rude Utensils, how the Settingsun,
Resting his Disk, in purple Glory, on
Yon massy Cloud, a Magiclight doth pour,
Till Life's most coarse Materials seem no more
That which they were, but o'er their Forms is thrown
A holy Beauty, which, tho all their own,
Yea, as the Diamond's hidden worth before
'Tis polished, yet escapes the vulgar Eye;
In semblance glorified, they stilly stand
Like Implements framed for an Angel's Hand,
For higher wants and uses! verily
They are; and when this gorgeous Light shall die,
Which turns to sparkling gems, eén this coarse sand,
Strewed o'er the Floor of want and Poverty

2.

A Higher glory still on them shall brood,
Higher than all the Hues of sunset can
Bestow, that Glory which the Heart of Man
Imparts to all it hallows unto Good;
And are they not framed for an Angel? Could
An Angelshand employ them better than
This poor, poor Labourer, whom each Day's span,
Sees toiling for a wife's and children's Food?
And Lo! the Light has fled; the purple Glow

Fades from the Plates, the sand, and broken chair,
And all things seem just simply what they were,
And are, Life's coarsest Necessaries; to
Wich Fancy will not stoop, nor deign to throw
One, one sole Hue, to make them seem more fair!

3.

And She does Ill, to turn from that which lies
Before her; from Life's daily Hopes and Fears,
Its wants and Toils, its sorrows and its Tears,
Its yearnings and its holy sympathies;
For'tis by these alone, that we can rise
To Being's Height; in this School wisdom rears
The truly great and good, in whom, nor years,
Slack love, Hate, Envey, Grief, can paralyze
The Human Heart by which they live alone;
The Milk of Humankindness, their first Food
Flows still within their veins, turned to Lifeblood!
'Tis by Life's lowliest Duties, tho' it were
To bind the Beggar's Bandage gently on
His wound, that we grow perfect; nay, we are
Not even Men except thro' these! and there
Is no, no office, howsoever mean,
But Love can make it holy, sweet and fair
Pure as the Star that sparkles on Evesbrow;
For Nought is mean or low, that man has done
For his own Brother man, save to the Low!
And the most low, is he who has not been
Yet Man; for what of Good or Noble can
He be or do, who is not first, a Man!

4.

Then be thou wiser, and instructed by
The sublime Lesson taught thee even now
By holy Nature, deem thou naught too low
To claim a passing Notice from thine Eye;

Look at it, 'tis not what it seems; till thy
Own Soul has in all Meekness sought to Know
Its End and uses, 'twill no token show
Of what it is. Did not the purple sky
Embathe with Beauty like a Poet's Dream,
But even now, this Room! did it despise
To steep in Glory, what so vile doth seem?
Do but as Nature, she is ever wise.
For that brief Glory, let a steady Beam
Of Human Love be thrown on all which lies
Around thee, from thy Soul, tho'it be nought
But the rude spade with which that man has wrought;
The cradle, where his sickly Infant cries:
Then 'neath the harsh Light of Reality,
They'll seem to thee more lovely than when by
The Settingsun to them such Hues were brought,
As charm not Fancy's vainlydreaming Eye!