 | [Poems by Sargent in] Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American poetry |  |
716
SUNRISE AT SEA.
When the mild weather came,
And set the sea on flame,
How often would I rise before the sun,
And from the mast behold
The gradual splendors of the sky unfold
Ere the first line of disk had yet begun,
Above the horizon's are,
To show its flaming gold,
Across the purple dark!
And set the sea on flame,
How often would I rise before the sun,
And from the mast behold
The gradual splendors of the sky unfold
Ere the first line of disk had yet begun,
Above the horizon's are,
To show its flaming gold,
Across the purple dark!
One perfect dawn how well I recollect,
When the whole east was flecked
With flashing streaks and shafts of amethyst,
While a light crimson mist
Went up before the mounting luminary,
And all the strips of cloud began to vary
Their hues, and all the zenith seemed to ope
As if to show a cope beyond the cope!
How reverently calm the ocean lay
At the bright birth of that celestial day!
How every little vapor, robed in state,
Would melt and dissipate
Before the augmenting ray,
Till the victorious Orb rose unattended,
And every billow was his mirror splendid!
When the whole east was flecked
With flashing streaks and shafts of amethyst,
While a light crimson mist
Went up before the mounting luminary,
And all the strips of cloud began to vary
Their hues, and all the zenith seemed to ope
As if to show a cope beyond the cope!
How reverently calm the ocean lay
At the bright birth of that celestial day!
How every little vapor, robed in state,
Would melt and dissipate
Before the augmenting ray,
Till the victorious Orb rose unattended,
And every billow was his mirror splendid!
May, 1827.
717
SOUL OF MY SOUL.
Soul of my soul, impart
Thy energy divine!
Inform and fill this languid heart,
And make thy purpose mine.
Thy voice is still and small,
The world's is loud and rude:
Oh, let me hear thee over all,
And be, through love, renewed!
Thy energy divine!
Inform and fill this languid heart,
And make thy purpose mine.
Thy voice is still and small,
The world's is loud and rude:
Oh, let me hear thee over all,
And be, through love, renewed!
Give me the mind to seek
Thy perfect will to know;
And lead me, tractable and meek,
The way I ought to go.
Make quick my spirit's ear
Thy faintest word to heed:
Soul of my soul! be ever near
To guide me in my need.
Thy perfect will to know;
And lead me, tractable and meek,
The way I ought to go.
Make quick my spirit's ear
Thy faintest word to heed:
Soul of my soul! be ever near
To guide me in my need.
SONNET: TO DAVID FRIEDRICH STRAUSS,
AFTER READING HIS LAST WORK, “THE OLD FAITH AND THE NEW.”
Thou say'st, my friend, 'twould strike thee with dismayTo be assured that life would not end here;
Since utter death is less a thing to fear
In thy esteem than life in clearer day:
For life, continuous life, thou wouldst not pray;
And even reunion with the loved and near
Is not to thee a prospect that could cheer,
Or shed a glory on thy earthward way:—
O power of thought perverse and morbid mood,
Conspiring thus to numb and blind the heart!
The universe gives back what we impart,—
As we elect, gives poison or pure food:
Mock—silence—the soul's whisper,—and Despair
Becomes to man than Hope itself more fair!
WEBSTER.
Night of the Tomb! He has entered thy portal;
Silence of Death! He is wrapped in thy shade;
All of the gifted and great that was mortal,
In the earth where the ocean-mist weepeth, is laid.
Silence of Death! He is wrapped in thy shade;
All of the gifted and great that was mortal,
In the earth where the ocean-mist weepeth, is laid.
Lips, whence the voice that held Senates proceeded,
Form, lending argument aspect august,
Brow, like the arch that a nation's weight needed,
Eyes, wells unfathomed of thought,—all are dust.
Form, lending argument aspect august,
Brow, like the arch that a nation's weight needed,
Eyes, wells unfathomed of thought,—all are dust.
Night of the Tomb! Through thy darkness is shining
A light since the Star in the East never dim;
No joy's exultation, no sorrow's repining
Could hide it in life or life's ending from him.
A light since the Star in the East never dim;
No joy's exultation, no sorrow's repining
Could hide it in life or life's ending from him.
Silence of death! There were voices from heaven,
That pierced to the quick ear of Faith through the gloom:
The rod and the staff that he asked for were given,
And he followed the Saviour's own track to the tomb.
That pierced to the quick ear of Faith through the gloom:
The rod and the staff that he asked for were given,
And he followed the Saviour's own track to the tomb.
Beyond it, above, in an atmosphere finer,
Lo, infinite ranges of being to fill!
In that land of the spirit, that region diviner,
He liveth, he loveth, he laboreth still.
Lo, infinite ranges of being to fill!
In that land of the spirit, that region diviner,
He liveth, he loveth, he laboreth still.
Marshfield, Mass., Oct. 24th, 1852.
| [Poems by Sargent in] Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American poetry | |