 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
LIFE'S PLEASURES
(Preceded by the editorial note given below)
The following lines are from the pen of genius—from a young man who has given many decided proofs in the Haverhill paper of a talent that only needs the trimming hand of care to make it shine one of the brightest lights in our poetical firmament. The writings of Bernard Barton have shown that a Quaker's plainness and simplicity are not inconsistent with “thoughts that breathe and words that burn,” and we hope to see from this writer another confirmation of this truth. Indeed a decidedly good poetical talent is so rare, that we hail it under any auspices, with the full conviction that it belongs to the community to encourage and assist its progress. We urge our correspondent to continue the good work, always remembering that toil and skill are almost synonyms; and assuring him that we shall rejoice to receive his contributions.
No gloom on childhood's sunny brow,
No care that bows—no bond that thralls
The heart, can life's gay morning know.
But oh! for childhood's sunny hours
In vain the heart in after years
Shall seek—when withered by the blight
Of disappointment—when the cares
Of life are crowding on the mind,
When by fate's faithless phantom led
In search of joy, it mourns to find
The promised bliss forever fled.
Of confidence and vows of truth—
When fancy with his brightest beams
Has lighted up the path of youth;
But soon or late a time must come
When dreams of youth must pass away,
And sorrow cast its veil of gloom
Before its bright and cheering ray;
The noblest feelings of the heart,
Of pure and deep affection born
From the chilled bosom shall depart,
Withered by cold neglect and scorn.
A strange compound of hopes and fears;—
Brightest of Life's imaginings
Is Love in youth's unclouded years;
But oh! how oft its charm hath passed
Like visions of the night away,
Swept o'er by disappointment's blast
Leaving the heart in dread decay;—
The fondest and the loveliest form
That e'er hath known love's rapturous spell
Has sunk beneath the wasting storm
That on its true affections fell.
From consciousness of having done
Our duty, at life's weary close,
When slowly sinks existence' sun;
When we can look around and see
No dark accusing spirit near,
When from the bond of earth set free
The weary soul hath joy to hear
Its summons to a brighter clime,
Where earthly woes no entrance find,
And when the dreary hours of time
Are left with all their cares behind.
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |