 | Uncollected Poems of James Russell Lowell |  |
THE BALLAD OF THE STRANGER
The wind is moaning sadly among the pine trees high,—
But that was not it, surely, so like a human sigh.
But that was not it, surely, so like a human sigh.
Her list'ning face she lifted, put back her scattered hair,
And, in the growing twilight, she saw her loved one there.
And, in the growing twilight, she saw her loved one there.
26
“Why cam'st thou not more early? Where tarried'st thou so long?
I have waited thee from sunset till dusky even-song;
I have waited thee from sunset till dusky even-song;
“The stars came out so slowly! It was a weary time;
I almost thought I never should hear the vesper chime.
I almost thought I never should hear the vesper chime.
“And I have had strange fancies, dim thoughts that seemed like fears,
Not sad,—yet, when they left me, mine eyes were salt with tears;
Not sad,—yet, when they left me, mine eyes were salt with tears;
“I thought of my dead mother, her pale face I could see
Between me and the starlight, as if she waited me;—
Between me and the starlight, as if she waited me;—
“‘Now, wherefore, blessed mother, say wherefore art thou here?
Most sure, if I had sinned, my heart would chill with fear.’
Most sure, if I had sinned, my heart would chill with fear.’
“Her lips moved not to answer, but glimmered with a smile,
That seemed to say, ‘my daughter, wait yet a little while.’
That seemed to say, ‘my daughter, wait yet a little while.’
“With that no more I saw her; the Pleiades alone
I saw, all dim and misty, as through my tears they shone.
I saw, all dim and misty, as through my tears they shone.
“And now, when thou art with me, when I should be most glad,
I yet do feel a something that makes me well nigh sad.
I yet do feel a something that makes me well nigh sad.
“Why lookest thou so mournful? Such face to thee is new;
And why dost thou not kiss me, as thou art used to do?”
And why dost thou not kiss me, as thou art used to do?”
Long time his lips seemed moving, as if unwont to speak,
And, when at length he answered, his voice was dim and weak.
And, when at length he answered, his voice was dim and weak.
“Now, dearest, if thou'lt listen, I will make plain the truth;
As I to thee did hasten, I met a stranger youth;
As I to thee did hasten, I met a stranger youth;
“He seemed of other country, and he was pale and fair;
His eyes were very mournful, yet kind as thine eyes are;
His eyes were very mournful, yet kind as thine eyes are;
“He sang to me full sweetly the songs of his own clime,
And, all along, the music interpreted the rhyme;
And, all along, the music interpreted the rhyme;
“They were of unknown language, yet ever, more and more,
They grew to sound like something that I had heard before;
They grew to sound like something that I had heard before;
“His face did shine so brightly, he sang so silverly,
I knew he was an angel come down for love of me,—
I knew he was an angel come down for love of me,—
27
“A mild and gentle spirit, and in his earnest eyes
I read the seeming riddle of all life's mysteries.
I read the seeming riddle of all life's mysteries.
“His voice went through and through me, it was so soft and low,
And it was very mournful, but not as if with woe;
And it was very mournful, but not as if with woe;
“The voices of the lost ones, of those who've gone before,
Seemed woven with it strangely to charm me more and more.
Seemed woven with it strangely to charm me more and more.
“With his mild eyes he drew me, he took me by the hand,
I could not choose but follow into his pleasant land;
I could not choose but follow into his pleasant land;
“And so with him I journeyed, in that fair clime to dwell,
But of its wondrous beauty only that youth can tell;
But of its wondrous beauty only that youth can tell;
“The gate whereby we entered, it is both green and low,
And up beyond the church door 'tis scarcely a stone's throw.
And up beyond the church door 'tis scarcely a stone's throw.
“I shall be with thee often, but never as before,
For I wear not the vestments of clay which I once wore;
For I wear not the vestments of clay which I once wore;
“We will not break our troth plight, though time can never bring
The day when I may claim thee, to wed thee with a ring;
The day when I may claim thee, to wed thee with a ring;
“For that kind youth hath promised that, on a certain day,
He will go forth and bring thee to dwell with me alway.”
He will go forth and bring thee to dwell with me alway.”
His words to silence faded, when he so far had said,
And mingled with the murmur of the pine trees overhead.
And mingled with the murmur of the pine trees overhead.
She did not sink with sorrow, nor weep when he was gone,
But patiently she waited until five moons had shone.
But patiently she waited until five moons had shone.
She kept her ever ready to greet the stranger youth,
Drest in her wedding garment of purity and truth.
Drest in her wedding garment of purity and truth.
And, when those days were numbered, the stranger came once more,
With gentlest look, to lead her in at the low, green door;
With gentlest look, to lead her in at the low, green door;
With joy she gave him welcome, all robed in snowy white,
Her heart had told her surely that he would come that night;
Her heart had told her surely that he would come that night;
A bridal wreath of amaranth he twined about her head,
And then the fair betrothed all silently forth led.
And then the fair betrothed all silently forth led.
28
She followed him right gladly, it was not far to go
To meet and dwell forever with him who loved her so.
To meet and dwell forever with him who loved her so.
With many tears they prayed her to stay, but all in vain;
Long waited they her coming, but she never came again.
Long waited they her coming, but she never came again.
| Uncollected Poems of James Russell Lowell | |