Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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POWER OF IMAGINATION |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
POWER OF IMAGINATION
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Does not the Fancy fondly fain'Twixt Spirits bound by Faith and Love,
A magic and electric Chain
By which two Hearts one Impulse prove?
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Yes, and to Hearts that love indeedNo idle Tale sweet Fancy tells,
Such Power is true Love's holy Meed,
For Faith can still work Miracles.
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Let not the dull, cold Sons of Earth,Deride the Mysteries of Love,
They must be born to a new Birth,
Ere such base Hearts this Truth can prove,
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For Truth speaks but to willing Ears,To such as listen holily,
She has no Voice for Man's dull Sneers,
But leaves him in his Pride to die.
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”Tis on Imagination's WingsThe Soul can traverse Time and Space,
Away all Dust of Earth it flings,
That severed Hearts may thus embrace.
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Praise be to God for this high Power,This Balm against the Ills of Life,
By which e'en Absence' bitter Hour,
Some Honey to the Hive may give.
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And sweeter too than that we gainFrom Flowers which in no sharp Thorns lie,
For Bliss thus won from sinless Pain
Is doubly dear to Memory.
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When in far foreign Lands I roam,And Strangerfaces coldly stare,
On Fancy's wings I hie me Home,
And pass an Hour of Rapture there.
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I close my Eyes—the Present's gone,And thro' my stirred Heart's inmost Core
There sweeps a sweet and thrilling Tone
Of wellcome Voices, heard of Yore.
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Once more upon my Threshold dearI stand, in throbbing Joy elate:
And half in Hope and half in Fear,
I lift the Latch, yet hesitate.
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For from that loved and hallowed SpotI've parted many a long, long Year,
And some may be—oh God! be what?—
Away dark Thought: thou art Despair!
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One moment, and they're gathered allAround me with their Looks of Joy,
And my full Heart doth rise and fall,
As tho' its Bliss were Agony.
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From many a wistful Eye is castThose wholeheart Thoughts that cannot speak:
For much is changed since they met last,
And Care sits on the oncefair Cheek.
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Fancy, thou stirr'st too potentlyMine earthlier Part, deceiving Elf:
The starting Tear and heaving Sigh
Call me from thee to my sole Self.
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I have no Home, save when past TimesSteal o'er me with their Visions dear:
And of remembered Joys the Chimes
Come ringing back in Fancy's Ear.
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I have no Home! oh Time! oh Time!Why hast thou robbed me of my Home?
Thrust me from that fair Edenclime,
Like Adam, thro' the World to roam?
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My Mother's Voice I hear no more,And could it speak to soothe my Grief,
Alas! it has no longer Power;
It would but wound, not bring Relief.
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I have a Corner in my HeartWhere the old Feelings still live on,
But lost, beyond all human Art,
The World of Beauty, that is gone!
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Oh Mother! thou canst no more kissMy Lips, and with thy Angeltouch
Make me an Angel too of Bliss,
If not in Form, in Heart still such.
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Once more on Earth; my sweet Dream's flown,But Faith has still a Remedy,
She loves with her own Wreath to crown
Grief's pale Brow, suffering patiently.
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With bendëd knee and upraised Eye,My Sorrows all to her are given,
And, like a Seraph, from the Sky
Hope drops and lifts my Thoughts to Heaven,
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Thus in the Agony of PartingFrom those we love on Earth the best,
Let's think upon the Bliss of meeting,
Where severed Hearts at length have Rest.
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |