The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton

Here come we, to this temple strange and vast;
Here is the shadowy stillness meet for prayer,
And here such fragrance breathes upon the air
That it must be Heaven's own high-priests have passed
And to the winds a heavenly incense cast;
Far up against the blue we see them there,
Glad messengers, that on God's errands fare—
Oh may we join their shining ranks at last!

This is the noblest Church was ever reared!
Shall we not enter here to praise and pray,
To kneel within its mighty nave and cry
To Him, our God, beloved of us and feared,
Whose light must guide us on our devious way,
Whose help must reach us, or we helpless die?

At Marienbad, September, 1887.

232

HELP THOU MINE UNBELIEF!

Because I seek thee not, oh seek Thou me!
Because my lips are dumb, oh hear the cry
I do not utter as Thou passest by,
And from my life-long bondage set me free!
Because content I perish, far from Thee,
Oh seize me, snatch me from my fate, and try
My soul in Thy consuming fire! Draw nigh
And let me, blinded, Thy salvation see.

If I were pouring at Thy feet my tears,
If I were clamoring to see Thy face,
I should not need Thee, Lord, as now I need,
Whose dumb, dead soul knows neither hopes nor fears,
Nor dreads the outer darkness of this place—
Because I seek not, pray not, give Thou heed!

233

SHALL I LOOK BACK?

From some dim height of being, undescried,
Shall I look back and trace the weary way
By which my feet are journeying to-day,—
The toilsome path that climbs the mountain-side
Or leads into the valley, sun-denied,
Where, through the darkness, hapless wanderers stray,
Unblessed, uncheered, ungladdened by a ray
Of certitude their errant steps to guide?

Shall I look back, and see the great things small;
The toilsome path, God's training for my feet,
The pains that never had been worth my tears?
Will some great light of rapture, bathing all,
Make by-gone woe seem joy; past bitter, sweet?
Shall I look back and wonder at my fears?

234

STRAIGHT ON TO PORT.

Straight through the sea-foam and the awful sea,
And winds that battle round us day and night,
Till the pale moon hides her white face in fright,
The ship that bears my longing heart and me
Fares toward that port where waiting loved ones be,
And on the hearth of home the fire is bright;
There wistful eyes shall be made glad with sight,
And perils past forgotten joyfully.

So, through long nights, and brief, sad winter days,
Or summer's short-lived triumphs, or young springs,
Or autumn's wind-blown, melancholy ways,
My soul bears onward to her haven far,
Beyond the utmost sea's dim harbor-bar,
There to forget what storms have bruised her wings.

At Sea, 1884.

235

A PRAYER IN SORROW.

My heart is at Thy feet,—my helpless heart!
I pray Thee bend and listen to my prayer;
Bend low, and comfort my most deep despair,
Since my sole help, sole comforter Thou art.
It is thy will that Joy and I should part;
Thy will be done—but have me in Thy care;
Unhelped by Thee the load I cannot bear—
My heart is at Thy feet, my helpless heart.

How can I go alone through life to death,
Confront each empty day and lonely night,
Each doubt and fear my soul that challengeth,
Except Thy strong arm put my foes to flight?
I cry to Thee, who gave my spirit breath—
Save me—O strong to save, as strong to smite!

236

ON HOMEWARD WING.

From the soft south the constant bird comes back,
Faith-led, to find the welcome of the spring
In the old boughs whereto she used to cling
Before she sought the unknown southward track:
Above the Winter and the storm-cloud's wrack
She hears the prophecy of days that bring
The Summer's pride, and plumes her homeward wing
To seek again the joys that exiles lack.

Shall I of little faith, less brave than she,
Set forth unwillingly my goal to find,
Go home from exile with reluctant mind,
Distrust the steadfast stars I cannot see,
And doubt the heavens because my eyes are blind?
Nay! Give me faith like wings to soar to Thee!

237

IN MID-OCEAN.

A cross this sea I sail, and do not know
What hap awaits me on its farther side,—
In these long days what dear hope may have died;
What sweet, accustomed joy I must forego;
What new acquaintance make with unguessed woe
(I, who with sorrow have been long allied,)
Or what blest gleam of joy yet undescried
Its tender light upon my way will throw.

Thus over Death's unsounded sea we sail,
Toward a far, unmapped, unpictured shore,
Unwitting what awaits us, bliss or bale,
Like the vast multitude that went before,
Scourged on by the inexorable gale
The everlasting mystery to explore.

At Sea, 1888.

238

AS IN VISION.

Sometimes in heaven-sent dreams I do behold
A city with its turrets high in air,
Its gates that gleam with jewels strange and rare,
And streets that glow with burning of red gold;
And happy souls, through blessedness grown bold,
Thrill with their praises all the radiant air,
And God himself is light, and shineth there
On glories tongue of man hath never told.

And in my dreams I thither march, nor stay
To heed earth's voices, howso'er they call,
Or proffers of the joys of this brief day,
On which so soon the sunset shadows fall;
I see the gleaming gates, and toward them press—
What though my path lead through the wilderness?

239

A PRAYER FOR LIGHT.

I kneel before Thee, Lord, oh, hear my cry;
From its sore burden set my spirit free,
And give my longing wings to soar toward Thee
Through the pure ether of the upper sky,
And find Thee, find Thee, though Thou art so high!
Give me to eat from that most sacred tree
Whose leaves of healing wave eternally—
Fed full of life by Thee, I shall not die,

Or, dying, die but to be newly born
In that glad day whereof Thou art the light,—
The light whose glories do eclipse the morn,
And blind the sun, and put to death the night—
O Life, O Light, O God, let me be Thine;
Sun of all worlds, upon my darkness shine!

240

COME UNTO ME.

I hear the low voice call that bids me come,—
Me, even me, with all my grief oppressed,
With sins that burden my unquiet breast,
And in my heart the longing that is dumb,
Yet beats forever, like a muffled drum,
For all delights whereof I, dispossessed,
Pine and repine, and find nor peace nor rest
This side the haven where He bids me come.

He bids me come, and lay my sorrows down,
And have my sins washed white by His dear grace;
He smiles—what matter, then, though all men frown?
Naught can assail me, held in His embrace;
And if His welcome home the end may crown,
Shall I not hasten to that heavenly place?

241

A RAINY AFTERNOON:

AT RAGATZ.

Dark are the clouds that hide from longing eyes
The hills that glowed this morning with delight,
When the sun kindled height on shining height,
Pouring his splendor through the eastern skies.
From this dense gloom no Mounts of Vision rise,—
The day forgets the magic of the morn,—
Triumphant Darkness clothes itself with scorn,
And all Hope's auguries Despair defies.

Yet once again the sun shall gild the day,
And once again the sun-kissed hills be glad,
And the vexed Earth go on its ancient way
With all the old exultant joy it had;
And thou, faint heart, shall Darkness thee affright
While He still reigns who said, “Let there be light”?

Ragatz, September, 1883.

242

HARK, TEN THOUSAND HARPS AND VOICES!

Oh, strong and sweet these tones that seek the sky!
Oh, sweet and strong the praises that I hear!
When all hearts thrill, as one, with love and fear,
And all these voices, as with one voice, cry;
And Fear says, “Tremble, for God's throne is high;”
And Love says, “Trust, because His heart is near,
And all ye children to His heart are dear,
And God is love, and shall in love reply.”

And then the music soars, as if on wings,
And echoes fond the ecstasy prolong,
Till waiting choirs of angels catch the song,
And they in heaven and we on earth unite
To sing His praise, and glorify His might,
Till unto God who hears His whole world sings.

University of Virginia Library

The Still Hour.

IN THE PINE WOODS AT MARIENBAD.