 | Elegies and memorials |  |
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POEMS BY A.
“IN MEMORIAM.”
Priest, opening sacred cedar doors
That shrine in dusk a perfect grief,
My secret finds its twin in yours,
And in that twinness its relief.
That shrine in dusk a perfect grief,
My secret finds its twin in yours,
And in that twinness its relief.
For Sorrow, in her mirror here,
Now first perceives, self-gazing thus,
As doth a star in water clear,
Her form, though sad, how luminous.
Now first perceives, self-gazing thus,
As doth a star in water clear,
Her form, though sad, how luminous.
I thank you—love and loss I've felt,
As you, and never word would come;
Till your sweet wand its magic dealt,
I thought this child of tears was dumb.
As you, and never word would come;
Till your sweet wand its magic dealt,
I thought this child of tears was dumb.
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Once home through winding ways went we;
Warm winds breathed through soft gloom, and night
Lay a dark balmy mystery,
Rifting thin clouds for tremulous light.
Warm winds breathed through soft gloom, and night
Lay a dark balmy mystery,
Rifting thin clouds for tremulous light.
Your book, just bought, was at my home;
I opened it, and read and read,
Till Night had arched her midway dome,
And her noon-stars were overhead.
I opened it, and read and read,
Till Night had arched her midway dome,
And her noon-stars were overhead.
When down I lay, in darkness drowned,
Out of your song my fancy drew
Webs of weird music; round and round
The wizard words self-chasing flew.
Out of your song my fancy drew
Webs of weird music; round and round
The wizard words self-chasing flew.
Whirled breathless after them, I strike
These lines from out my panting brain;
And joy and grief seem all alike,
There's such delirium in the strain.
These lines from out my panting brain;
And joy and grief seem all alike,
There's such delirium in the strain.
Yet, should I tell you how I caught
From you these melodies of tears,
I must lead back my faltering thought
Over a long dusk bridge of years.
From you these melodies of tears,
I must lead back my faltering thought
Over a long dusk bridge of years.
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An “In Memoriam” in our hearts,
A marble tablet, ever dwells,
For ever dust to dust departs,
For ever ring our funeral bells.
A marble tablet, ever dwells,
For ever dust to dust departs,
For ever ring our funeral bells.
And one sweet ghost—a love and fear—
Haunts, in the thicket's wild rose isles,
The soft green outburst of the year
With voiceless words and wordless smiles.
Haunts, in the thicket's wild rose isles,
The soft green outburst of the year
With voiceless words and wordless smiles.
In my dim silvery dawn of youth
I saw a sister laid to sleep
Amid geraniums of the south—
Oh, can one think and cease to weep?
I saw a sister laid to sleep
Amid geraniums of the south—
Oh, can one think and cease to weep?
She was so young! and yet in her
Death took a too consummate flower;
But it decayed not—and I err,
Mourning her void nook in our bower.
Death took a too consummate flower;
But it decayed not—and I err,
Mourning her void nook in our bower.
Too full of sky-born graces was
That lily life to pine in clay;
Like perfume in a fairy-vase
Her sweet soul burnt itself away.
That lily life to pine in clay;
Like perfume in a fairy-vase
Her sweet soul burnt itself away.
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I will not speak, I will but think,
Of after-steps in walks of pain,
Walks marked by diamonds, link by link,
Dropped from our happy household chain.
Of after-steps in walks of pain,
Walks marked by diamonds, link by link,
Dropped from our happy household chain.
Nor will I speak nor think of pangs
That must be fled from, lest we craze;
You know the huge dumb cloud that hangs,
Death-dark, o'er our most azure days.
That must be fled from, lest we craze;
You know the huge dumb cloud that hangs,
Death-dark, o'er our most azure days.
You know the wants, the doubts that lie
Wedged in the deep white core of thought,
The yearnings stirred we know not why,
That cry out for we know not what;
Wedged in the deep white core of thought,
The yearnings stirred we know not why,
That cry out for we know not what;
When, 'mid dusk morn, as in a grave
We wake with consciousness aghast,—
The heart that like a hollow cave
Echoes with voices from the past.
We wake with consciousness aghast,—
The heart that like a hollow cave
Echoes with voices from the past.
You know it, and you know the art
That can life's rugged passes smooth;
That, speaking for each voiceless heart,
Sets words that grieve to notes that soothe.
That can life's rugged passes smooth;
That, speaking for each voiceless heart,
Sets words that grieve to notes that soothe.
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You lead us to the mountain-top
Where the great God who formed our kind
Sees, nor condemns, the tears that drop
From spirits bounded and half-blind.
Where the great God who formed our kind
Sees, nor condemns, the tears that drop
From spirits bounded and half-blind.
He knows, who made us quick with love,
That love must shrink, while walled in clay,
At those sharp blows the walls that move
And strike the soul out to the day.
That love must shrink, while walled in clay,
At those sharp blows the walls that move
And strike the soul out to the day.
Oh, tenderest heart! oh, truest friend!
If thou art sad, as fond and true,
The God that did such sadness send
Send thee all comfort with it too.
If thou art sad, as fond and true,
The God that did such sadness send
Send thee all comfort with it too.
Thus did the heart you kindled write,
Unknowing Love had oped for you
A sudden blossom of delight,
And brought my mystic wishes true.
Unknowing Love had oped for you
A sudden blossom of delight,
And brought my mystic wishes true.
If in your joy's deep psalm allowed,
Half notes akin to sorrow falter,
All thoughts will mingle to a cloud
Of incense on the marriage-altar.
Half notes akin to sorrow falter,
All thoughts will mingle to a cloud
Of incense on the marriage-altar.
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Nor think your friend from yon sky-land
Scorns your return to earthly ways;
With blessing eyes he sees you stand
A candidate for richer days;
Scorns your return to earthly ways;
With blessing eyes he sees you stand
A candidate for richer days;
Sees in your heart, where seemed a void,
Love's inmost reddest leaf uncurl,
Long shut in grief, but not destroyed,
Just gleaming with a quiet pearl.
Love's inmost reddest leaf uncurl,
Long shut in grief, but not destroyed,
Just gleaming with a quiet pearl.
Love on! and twine all lost desires
About this central shaft of Hope;
Love's fairy round, whence Ill retires
For all the gentle sprites has scope.
About this central shaft of Hope;
Love's fairy round, whence Ill retires
For all the gentle sprites has scope.
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“YOUNG BOATMAN!”
Young Boatman! still, as oft I've done,
I see thy strenuous form; the sun
Turns to gold threads thy brown-waved hair;
Thy cheek blooms deeper in the air.
With open throat, in boyish pride,
On swelling lake and stormy tide,
Thy brave young vigour plies the oar—
The dream is gone, 'tis thou no more.
I see thy strenuous form; the sun
Turns to gold threads thy brown-waved hair;
Thy cheek blooms deeper in the air.
With open throat, in boyish pride,
On swelling lake and stormy tide,
Thy brave young vigour plies the oar—
The dream is gone, 'tis thou no more.
Young Mountaineer! in Highland plaid
Scaling Helvellyn, undismayed
By winter snows, for very love
Of the cold glories throned above!
Young Shepherd! joying in the free
And thrilling life so meet for thee—
Thou watchest now, poor exile, deep
In far Australia, o'er thy sheep.
Scaling Helvellyn, undismayed
By winter snows, for very love
Of the cold glories throned above!
Young Shepherd! joying in the free
And thrilling life so meet for thee—
Thou watchest now, poor exile, deep
In far Australia, o'er thy sheep.
Young Poet! to impulsive rhyme
Sparkling at touch of the sublime;
Young Dreamer! with thy heart so oft
Mourning o'er thoughts too wild and soft;
And now in night's still visions turning
Toward thy lost home—sweet, bitter yearning!
Whate'er thy task, where'er thou art,
Thou liv'st, the darling of my heart!
Sparkling at touch of the sublime;
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Mourning o'er thoughts too wild and soft;
And now in night's still visions turning
Toward thy lost home—sweet, bitter yearning!
Whate'er thy task, where'er thou art,
Thou liv'st, the darling of my heart!
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THE STORY OF WOMAN.
A peerless, piteous thing,
Through every age and clime
Tracked by her radiant wing,
Yet leaving on all time
Only a cry of grief, only a stain of crime!
Through every age and clime
Tracked by her radiant wing,
Yet leaving on all time
Only a cry of grief, only a stain of crime!
Jewelled in Eastern lands,
And painted with strange lures;
Carved goddess by Greek hands;
Sung round by Troubadours;
Still is her doom the same, this slave and toy of yours!
And painted with strange lures;
Carved goddess by Greek hands;
Sung round by Troubadours;
Still is her doom the same, this slave and toy of yours!
A Dalila, a Circe,
A Venus from the sea,
Loved—without faith or mercy,
A Saint—yet scorned is she;
Idol and Priestess both, yet never friend nor free!
A Venus from the sea,
Loved—without faith or mercy,
A Saint—yet scorned is she;
Idol and Priestess both, yet never friend nor free!
False tales of her ye weave,
To make your scorning good,
And lo! the concrete Eve
Is abstract Womanhood;
And pilloried with her one half the race hath stood.
To make your scorning good,
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Is abstract Womanhood;
And pilloried with her one half the race hath stood.
Yet since, like Man, she's tasted
The knowledge-bearing fruit,
The life and strength long wasted
That spring from that deep root
Now look and speak through her, no longer blind and mute.
The knowledge-bearing fruit,
The life and strength long wasted
That spring from that deep root
Now look and speak through her, no longer blind and mute.
Wide is the world, and scant
Her plot marked out by you;
She asks no royal grant,
For she is free-born too:
Give her her human rights, and see what she can do!
Her plot marked out by you;
She asks no royal grant,
For she is free-born too:
Give her her human rights, and see what she can do!
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DEJECTION AND HOPE.
We, unlike children of one mother,
Began our climbing with each other,
I and my gold-locked, star-eyed brother.
Began our climbing with each other,
I and my gold-locked, star-eyed brother.
Slow climbed I step by step, while Hope,
With one light bound, an antelope,
Sprang past me up the mountain slope.
With one light bound, an antelope,
Sprang past me up the mountain slope.
A grey-haired toiler, I attain
A half-way height, content, for pain
And weariness, with little gain.
A half-way height, content, for pain
And weariness, with little gain.
I see, as when I first began,
High up in heaven,—a shining span,—
Aerial cities strange to man.
High up in heaven,—a shining span,—
Aerial cities strange to man.
They drew me on through wastes forlorn,
Seeking the gateways of the morn,
From those green dells where I was born.
Seeking the gateways of the morn,
From those green dells where I was born.
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They drew me on without a sigh,
Till all was desert round mine eye,—
Those glorious cities of the sky.
Till all was desert round mine eye,—
Those glorious cities of the sky.
I ne'er shall reach their dazzling spires,
Yet, stilled at last all vain desires,
I sit and gaze while daylight tires.
Yet, stilled at last all vain desires,
I sit and gaze while daylight tires.
Yon winged soarer, where is he?
Look where deep down a chasm you see
Yawn like a hell-mouth dismally.
Look where deep down a chasm you see
Yawn like a hell-mouth dismally.
At sunset, when the eaglet brood
From their rock-turret screaming viewed
A shade across the light intrude,
From their rock-turret screaming viewed
A shade across the light intrude,
Swift as he clomb he fell, and lies,
With shattered bones, a sacrifice
To the black cavern-deities.
With shattered bones, a sacrifice
To the black cavern-deities.
There comes the prowling wolf, Despair,
At twilight for his wonted fare—
How many hopes hath he found there!
At twilight for his wonted fare—
How many hopes hath he found there!
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SONNETS TO TWO OF THE DEAD.
I.—To Mazzini just out of Prison.
Oh, never nobler, more beloved than now!The land thy whole life died for lives secure,
Free, crowned—and thou must stand aloof, obscure,
Far off, as one his dearest disavow—
Thy land, but not thy holy dream; for thou
Hadst shrined thy Italy in skies too pure,
Too nobly free had planned her, to endure
Triumphs of statecraft branded on her brow.
And so, the vulgar hero takes a crown;
Pale comes the martyr-saint from prison-blight;
Oh, prophet-glance, be higher, further winged!
Though now in darkness that life-star go down,
Look where it rises—the brute sword unkinged—
O'er all the days to come an orb of light.
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II.—To John Stuart Mill.
Oh, noble and beloved and lost! how dimOne moment makes the world, glowed through e'en now
With fire from thy great heart. Yet must we vow,
In this dark temple of our grief, a hymn
Of worship in high strivings, must o'erbrim
Our lives from thy deep fount of wisdom, thou
Priest of a wondrous war, with tranquil brow,
Single against the world's leagued Anakim.
Strong champion of the weak! what arms were thine—
Reason sublime, red-hot with passion pure;
If taught by thee, we pierce, aspire, endure,
So art thou fighting still—yet how to bear
The divine triumph of some cause divine
Thou wilt have won for us—who art not there!
| Elegies and memorials | |