University of Virginia Library

previous section [Poems by Lowell in] American Literature
next section

XX
Elmwood Visited

One soft December day,
Spring came unpromised hither,
And, like a morn of May,
Brought all earth's wonders with her.
About her feet of fire
The breath of life was playing;
Some unfulfilled desire
Sent all the world amaying.
And all men's hearts like bees
O'er freshblown fancies hovered,—
Were ever hours like these,
Newmistressed & newlovered?
And every living thing
That had a lutestring in it
Gan whistle, chirp or sing
As lifesome as a linnet.
345

The bareboned trees, thrilled through,
New leaves upon them fancied,
“‘Tis Arcady's, this blue,
No other like it,’” Pan said.
But there was one to whom
This joyance of Creation,
This burst of sun & bloom,
Brought merest tribulation.
This was an ancient owl
Who mused “What means this clatter
Of insect beast & fowl
And man too? What's the matter?
“This ringing in my ears,
And in my brain this humming,—
May fieldmice fail for years
If 'tisn't She that's coming!
“‘Maia!’ they sing (vile sound,
How in my ears they ding it!)
Is sweetness to be found?
Or light? She's sure to bring it.
“Who gave her right or power
Sunshine to waste so madly?
What she spends on an hour
Would serve a month not badly.
“These beautiful short days,
Of which Jove put too few in
When he defined Earth's ways,
Why should come & ruin?
“This kind of thing can't last,
My mother Night, a while hence,
Will lock all Nature fast
In darkness & in silence.
“Silence suits my tuwhoo,
And darkness helps my sight too,—
Things harmless as these two
I surely have a right to.”
346

Deep in a hollow tree
The owl securely hid him
His dreary weird to dree,
For so his instincts bid him.
When he at length came out
By gathering dusk admonished
And tried his wonted shout,
Ne'er owl was so astonished.
His voice, I tell you true,
Jove had for penance altered,
Instead of loud tuwhoo
Boohoo, boohoo, he faltered.
Round Elmwood now all night
Like a lost soul he wanders,
And one, so luckless quite,
Listens & sighs & ponders.
“Boohoo, boohoo! take this
And to your proverbs add it,—
If you forego Luck's Kiss,
More pain in Might have had it.” [?]
 

To Mrs. Whitman, Dec. 23, 1889 (Houghton Library). Lowell began the letter: “I send you my nonsense. 'Tis a long-drawing-out of the fancy that likened a certain charming person to Madonna Primavera.” At the close of the letter, referring to the poem, he wrote: “It has drawn itself out—well, as such things do. Once in this easy canter, why pull up?”

previous section [Poems by Lowell in] American Literature
next section