 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
394
POEMS OF GRIEF AND CONSOLATION.
EARTH TO EARTH.
His hands with earthly work are done,
His feet are done with roving;
We bring him now to thee and ask,
The loved to take the loving.
His feet are done with roving;
We bring him now to thee and ask,
The loved to take the loving.
Part back thy mantle, fringed with green,
Broidered with leaf and blossom,
And lay him tenderly to sleep,
Dear Earth, upon thy bosom.
Broidered with leaf and blossom,
And lay him tenderly to sleep,
Dear Earth, upon thy bosom.
Thy cheerful birds, thy liberal flowers,
Thy woods and waters only
Gave him their sweet companionship
And made his hours less lonely.
Thy woods and waters only
Gave him their sweet companionship
And made his hours less lonely.
Though friendship never blest his way,
And love denied her blisses;
No flower concealed her face from him,
No wind withheld her kisses.
And love denied her blisses;
No flower concealed her face from him,
No wind withheld her kisses.
Nor man hath sighed, nor woman wept
To go their ways without him;
So, lying here, he still will have
His truest friends about him.
To go their ways without him;
So, lying here, he still will have
His truest friends about him.
Then part thy mantle, fringed with green,
Broidered with leaf and blossom,
And lay him tenderly to sleep,
Dear Earth, upon thy bosom!
Broidered with leaf and blossom,
And lay him tenderly to sleep,
Dear Earth, upon thy bosom!
THE UNHONORED.
Alas, alas! how many sighs
Are breathed for his sad fate, who dies
With triumph dawning on his eyes.
Are breathed for his sad fate, who dies
With triumph dawning on his eyes.
What thousands for the soldier weep,
From his first battle gone to sleep
That slumber which is long and deep.
From his first battle gone to sleep
That slumber which is long and deep.
But who about his fate can tell,
Who struggled manfully and well;
Yet fainted on the march, and fell?
Who struggled manfully and well;
Yet fainted on the march, and fell?
Or who above his rest makes moan,
Who dies in the sick-tent alone—
“Only a private, name unknown!”
Who dies in the sick-tent alone—
“Only a private, name unknown!”
What tears down Pity's cheek have run
For poets singing in the sun,
Stopped suddenly, their song half done.
For poets singing in the sun,
Stopped suddenly, their song half done.
But for the hosts of souls below,
Who to eternal silence go,
Hiding their great unspoken woe;
Who to eternal silence go,
Hiding their great unspoken woe;
Who sees amid their ranks go down,
Heroes, that never won renown,
And martyrs, with no martyr's crown?
Heroes, that never won renown,
And martyrs, with no martyr's crown?
Unrecognized, a poet slips
Into death's total, long eclipse,
With breaking heart, and wordless lips;
Into death's total, long eclipse,
With breaking heart, and wordless lips;
And never any brother true
Utters the praise that was his due—
“This man was greater than ye knew!”
Utters the praise that was his due—
“This man was greater than ye knew!”
No maiden by his grave appears,
Crying out in long after years,
“I would have loved him,” through her tears.
Crying out in long after years,
“I would have loved him,” through her tears.
We weep for her, untimely dead,
Who would have pressed the marriage-bed,
Yet to death's chamber went instead.
Who would have pressed the marriage-bed,
Yet to death's chamber went instead.
395
But who deplores the sadder fate,
Of her who finds no mortal mate,
And lives and dies most desolate?
Of her who finds no mortal mate,
And lives and dies most desolate?
Alas! 't is sorrowful to know
That she who finds least love below,
Finds least pity for her woe.
That she who finds least love below,
Finds least pity for her woe.
Hard is her fate who feels life past,
When loving hands still hold her fast,
And loving eyes watch to the last.
When loving hands still hold her fast,
And loving eyes watch to the last.
But she, whose lids no kisses prest,
Who crossed her own hands on her breast,
And went to her eternal rest;
Who crossed her own hands on her breast,
And went to her eternal rest;
She had so sad a lot below,
That her unutterable woe
Only the pitying God can know!
That her unutterable woe
Only the pitying God can know!
When little hands are dropped away
From the warm bosom where they lay,
And the poor mother holds but clay;
From the warm bosom where they lay,
And the poor mother holds but clay;
What human lip that does not moan,
What heart that does not inly groan,
And make such suffering its own?
What heart that does not inly groan,
And make such suffering its own?
Yet, sitting mute in their despair,
With their unnoticed griefs to bear,
Are childless women everywhere;
With their unnoticed griefs to bear,
Are childless women everywhere;
Who never knew, nor understood,
That which is woman's greatest good,
The sacredness of motherhood.
That which is woman's greatest good,
The sacredness of motherhood.
But putting down their hopes and fears,
Claiming no pity and no tears,
They live the measure of their years.
Claiming no pity and no tears,
They live the measure of their years.
They see age stealing on apace,
And put the gray hairs from their face,
No children's fingers shall displace!
And put the gray hairs from their face,
No children's fingers shall displace!
Though grief hath many a form and show,
I think that unloved women know
The very bottom of life's woe!
I think that unloved women know
The very bottom of life's woe!
And that the God, who pitying sees,
Hath yet a recompense for these,
Kept in the long eternities!
Hath yet a recompense for these,
Kept in the long eternities!
JENNIE.
You have sent me from her tomb
A poor withered flower to keep,
Broken off in perfect bloom,
Such as hers, who lies asleep—
Underneath the roses lies,
Hidden from your mortal eyes,
Never from your heart concealed,
Always to your soul revealed.
A poor withered flower to keep,
Broken off in perfect bloom,
Such as hers, who lies asleep—
Underneath the roses lies,
Hidden from your mortal eyes,
Never from your heart concealed,
Always to your soul revealed.
Oh, to think, as day and night
Come and go, and go and come,
How the smile which was its light
Hath been darkened in your home!
Oh, to think that those dear eyes,
Copied from the summer skies,
Could have veiled their heavenly blue
From the sunshine, and from you!
Come and go, and go and come,
How the smile which was its light
Hath been darkened in your home!
Oh, to think that those dear eyes,
Copied from the summer skies,
Could have veiled their heavenly blue
From the sunshine, and from you!
Oh, to have that tender mouth,
With its loveliness complete,
Shut up in its budding youth
From all kisses, fond and sweet!
Fairest blossom, red and rare,
Could not with her lips compare;
Yea, her mouth's young beauty shamed
All the roses ever named.
With its loveliness complete,
Shut up in its budding youth
From all kisses, fond and sweet!
Fairest blossom, red and rare,
Could not with her lips compare;
Yea, her mouth's young beauty shamed
All the roses ever named.
Why God hid her from your sight,
Leaving anguish in her place,
At the noonday sent the night,
Night that almost hid his face,
Not to us is fully shown,
Not to mortals can be known,
Though they strive, through tears and doubt,
Still to guess his meaning out.
Leaving anguish in her place,
At the noonday sent the night,
Night that almost hid his face,
Not to us is fully shown,
Not to mortals can be known,
Though they strive, through tears and doubt,
Still to guess his meaning out.
Full of mystery 't is, and yet
If you claspèd still those charms,
Mother, might you not forget
Mothers who have empty arms?
If you satisfied in her
Every want and every need,
Could you be a comforter
To the hearts that moan and bleed?
If you claspèd still those charms,
Mother, might you not forget
Mothers who have empty arms?
If you satisfied in her
Every want and every need,
Could you be a comforter
To the hearts that moan and bleed?
Take this solace for your woe:
God's love never groweth dim;
All of goodness that you know,
All your loving comes from him!
You say, “She has gone to death!”
Very tenderly, God saith:
“Better so; I make her mine,
And my love exceedeth thine!”
God's love never groweth dim;
All of goodness that you know,
All your loving comes from him!
You say, “She has gone to death!”
Very tenderly, God saith:
“Better so; I make her mine,
And my love exceedeth thine!”
396
COWPER'S CONSOLATION.
He knew what mortals know when tried
By suffering's worst and last extreme;
He knew the ecstacy allied
To bliss supreme.
By suffering's worst and last extreme;
He knew the ecstacy allied
To bliss supreme.
Souls, hanging on his melody,
Have caught his rapture of belief;
The heart of all humanity
Has felt his grief.
Have caught his rapture of belief;
The heart of all humanity
Has felt his grief.
In sweet compassion and in love
Poets about his tomb have trod;
And softly hung their wreaths above
The hallowed sod.
Poets about his tomb have trod;
And softly hung their wreaths above
The hallowed sod.
His hymns of victory, clear and strong,
Over the hosts of sin and doubt,
Still make the Christian's battle-song,
And triumph-shout.
Over the hosts of sin and doubt,
Still make the Christian's battle-song,
And triumph-shout.
Tasting sometimes his Father's grace,
Yet for wise purposes allowed
Seldom to see the “smiling face”
Behind the cloud;
Yet for wise purposes allowed
Seldom to see the “smiling face”
Behind the cloud;
Surely when he was left the prey
Of torments only Heaven can still,
“God moved in a mysterious way”
To work his will.
Of torments only Heaven can still,
“God moved in a mysterious way”
To work his will.
Yet many a soul through life has trod
Untroubled o'er securest ground,
Nor knew that “closer walk with God”
His footsteps found.
Untroubled o'er securest ground,
Nor knew that “closer walk with God”
His footsteps found.
With its great load of grief to bear,
The reed, though bruisèd, might not break;
God did not leave him to despair,
Nor quite forsake.
The reed, though bruisèd, might not break;
God did not leave him to despair,
Nor quite forsake.
The pillow by his tear-drops wet,
The stoniest couch that heard his cries,
Had near a golden ladder set
That touched the skies.
The stoniest couch that heard his cries,
Had near a golden ladder set
That touched the skies.
And at the morning on his bed,
And in sweet visions of the night,
Angels, descending, comforted
His soul with light.
And in sweet visions of the night,
Angels, descending, comforted
His soul with light.
Standing upon the hither side,
How few of all the earthly host
Have signaled those whose feet have trod
The heavenly coast.
How few of all the earthly host
Have signaled those whose feet have trod
The heavenly coast.
Yet his it was at times to see,
In glimpses faint and half-revealed,
That strange and awful mystery
By death concealed.
In glimpses faint and half-revealed,
That strange and awful mystery
By death concealed.
And, as the glory thus discerned
His heart desired, with strong desire;
By seraphs touched, his sad lips burned
With sacred fire.
His heart desired, with strong desire;
By seraphs touched, his sad lips burned
With sacred fire.
As ravens to Elijah bare,
At morn and eve, the promised bread;
So by the spirits of the air
His soul was fed.
At morn and eve, the promised bread;
So by the spirits of the air
His soul was fed.
And, even as the prophet rose
Triumphant on the flames of love,
The fiery chariot of his woes
Bore him above.
Triumphant on the flames of love,
The fiery chariot of his woes
Bore him above.
Oh, shed no tears for such a lot,
Nor deem he passed uncheered, alone;
He walked with God, and he was not,
God took his own!
Nor deem he passed uncheered, alone;
He walked with God, and he was not,
God took his own!
The most important events of Cowper's latter years were audibly announced to him before they occurred. We find him writing of Mrs. Unwin's “approaching and sudden death,” when her health, although feeble, was not such as to occasion alarm. His lucid intervals, and the return of his disorder, were announced to him in the same remarkable manner.— Cowper's Audible Illusions.
TWICE SMITTEN.
O doubly-bowed and bruisèd reed,
What can I offer in thy need?
What can I offer in thy need?
O heart, twice broken with its grief,
What words of mine can bring relief?
What words of mine can bring relief?
O soul, o'erwhelmed with woe again,
How can I soothe thy bitter pain?
How can I soothe thy bitter pain?
Abashed and still, I stand and see
Thy sorrow's awful majesty.
Thy sorrow's awful majesty.
Only dumb silence may convey
That which my lip can never say.
That which my lip can never say.
397
I cannot comfort thee at all;
On the Great Comforter I call;
On the Great Comforter I call;
Praying that He may make thee see
How near He hath been drawn to thee.
How near He hath been drawn to thee.
For unto man the angel guest
Still comes through gates of suffering best;
Still comes through gates of suffering best;
And most our Heavenly Father cares
For whom He smites, not whom He spares.
For whom He smites, not whom He spares.
So, to his chastening meekly bow,
Thou art of his beloved now!
Thou art of his beloved now!
BORDER-LAND.
I know you are always by my side
And I know you love me, Winifred dear,
For I never called on you since you died,
But you answered, tenderly, I am here!
And I know you love me, Winifred dear,
For I never called on you since you died,
But you answered, tenderly, I am here!
So come from the misty shadows, where
You came last night, and the night before,
Put back the veil of your golden hair,
And let me look in your face once more.
You came last night, and the night before,
Put back the veil of your golden hair,
And let me look in your face once more.
Ah! it is you; with that brow of truth,
Ever too pure for the least disguise;
With the same dear smile on the loving mouth,
And the same sweet light in the tender eyes.
Ever too pure for the least disguise;
With the same dear smile on the loving mouth,
And the same sweet light in the tender eyes.
You are my own, my darling still,
So do not vanish or turn aside,
Wait till my eyes have had their fill,—
Wait till my heart is pacified!
So do not vanish or turn aside,
Wait till my eyes have had their fill,—
Wait till my heart is pacified!
You have left the light of your higher place,
And ever thoughtful, and kind, and good,
You come with your old familiar face,
And not with the look of your angelhood.
And ever thoughtful, and kind, and good,
You come with your old familiar face,
And not with the look of your angelhood.
Still the touch of your hand is soft and light,
And your voice is gentle, and kind, and low,
And the very roses you wear to-night,
You were in the summers long ago.
And your voice is gentle, and kind, and low,
And the very roses you wear to-night,
You were in the summers long ago.
O world, you may tell me I dream or rave,
So long as my darling comes to prove
That the feet of the spirit cross the grave,
And the loving live, and the living love!
So long as my darling comes to prove
That the feet of the spirit cross the grave,
And the loving live, and the living love!
THE LAST BED.
'T was a lonesome couch we came to spread
For her, when her little life was o'er,
And a narrower one than any bed
Whereon she had ever slept before.
For her, when her little life was o'er,
And a narrower one than any bed
Whereon she had ever slept before.
And we feared that she could not slumber so,
As we stood about her when all was done,
For the pillow seemed too hard and low
For her precious head to rest upon.
As we stood about her when all was done,
For the pillow seemed too hard and low
For her precious head to rest upon.
But, when we had followed her two by two,
And lowered her down there where she lies,
There was nothing left for us to do,
But to hide it all from our tearful eyes.
And lowered her down there where she lies,
There was nothing left for us to do,
But to hide it all from our tearful eyes.
So we softly and tenderly spread between
Our face and the face our love regrets,
A covering, woven of leafy green,
And spotted over with violets.
Our face and the face our love regrets,
A covering, woven of leafy green,
And spotted over with violets.
LIGHT.
While I had mine eyes, I feared;
The heavens in wrath seemed bowed;
I look, and the sun with a smile breaks forth,
And a rainbow spans the cloud.
The heavens in wrath seemed bowed;
I look, and the sun with a smile breaks forth,
And a rainbow spans the cloud.
398
I thought the winter was here,
That the earth was cold and bare,
But I feel the coming of birds and flowers,
And the spring-time in the air.
That the earth was cold and bare,
But I feel the coming of birds and flowers,
And the spring-time in the air.
I said that all the lips
I ever had kissed were dumb;
That my dearest ones were dead and gone,
And never a friend would come.
I ever had kissed were dumb;
That my dearest ones were dead and gone,
And never a friend would come.
But I hear a voice as sweet
As the fall of summer showers;
And the grave that yawned at my very feet
Is filled to the top with flowers!
As the fall of summer showers;
And the grave that yawned at my very feet
Is filled to the top with flowers!
As if 't were the midnight hour,
I sat with gloom opprest;
When a light was breaking out of the east,
And shining unto the west.
I sat with gloom opprest;
When a light was breaking out of the east,
And shining unto the west.
I heard the angels call
Across from the beautiful shore;
And I saw a look in my darling's eyes,
That never was there before.
Across from the beautiful shore;
And I saw a look in my darling's eyes,
That never was there before.
Transfigured, lost to me,
She had slipped from my embrace;
Now lo! I hold her fast once more,
With the light of God on her face!
She had slipped from my embrace;
Now lo! I hold her fast once more,
With the light of God on her face!
WAITING THE CHANGE.
I have no moan to make,
No bitter tears to shed:
No heart, that for rebellious grief,
Will not be comforted.
No bitter tears to shed:
No heart, that for rebellious grief,
Will not be comforted.
There is no friend of mine
Laid in the earth to sleep;
No grave, or green or heaped afresh,
By which I stand and weep.
Laid in the earth to sleep;
No grave, or green or heaped afresh,
By which I stand and weep.
Though some, whose presence once
Sweet comfort round me shed,
Here in the body walk no more
The way that I must tread,
Sweet comfort round me shed,
Here in the body walk no more
The way that I must tread,
Not they, but what they wore
Went to the house of fear;
They were the incorruptible,
They left corruption here.
Went to the house of fear;
They were the incorruptible,
They left corruption here.
The veil of flesh that hid
Is softly drawn aside;
More clearly I behold them now
Than those who never died.
Is softly drawn aside;
More clearly I behold them now
Than those who never died.
Who died! what means that word
Of men so much abhorred?
Caught up in clouds of heaven to be
Forever with the Lord!
Of men so much abhorred?
Caught up in clouds of heaven to be
Forever with the Lord!
To give this body, racked
With mortal ills and cares,
For one as glorious and as fair,
As our Redeemer wears;
With mortal ills and cares,
For one as glorious and as fair,
As our Redeemer wears;
To leave our shame and sin,
Our hunger and disgrace;
To come unto ourselves, to turn
And find our Father's face;
Our hunger and disgrace;
To come unto ourselves, to turn
And find our Father's face;
To run, to leap, to walk,
To quit our beds of pain,
And live where the inhabitants
Are never sick again;
To quit our beds of pain,
And live where the inhabitants
Are never sick again;
To sit no longer dumb,
Nor halt, nor blind; to rise—
To praise the Healer with our tongue,
And see him with our eyes;
Nor halt, nor blind; to rise—
To praise the Healer with our tongue,
And see him with our eyes;
To leave cold winter snows,
And burning summer heats,
And walk in soft, white, tender light,
About the golden streets.
And burning summer heats,
And walk in soft, white, tender light,
About the golden streets.
Thank God! for all my loved,
That out of pain and care,
Have safely reached the heavenly heights,
And stay to meet me there!
That out of pain and care,
Have safely reached the heavenly heights,
And stay to meet me there!
Not these I mourn; I know
Their joy by faith sublime—
But for myself, that still below
Must wait my appointed time.
Their joy by faith sublime—
But for myself, that still below
Must wait my appointed time.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |