 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
162
TO A POET.
[_]
[Who, from the fullness of his own fame and genius, could recognize the claim of a humble aspirant, and give him a word of encouragement.]
A single seed the waiting air
May to some secret covert bear,
The sun and dew to haply share,
And, soon upsprung,
It blooms in efflorescence fair,
The grass among.
May to some secret covert bear,
The sun and dew to haply share,
And, soon upsprung,
It blooms in efflorescence fair,
The grass among.
So a small word in kindness said
Has to its soil congenial sped,
Within the heart's receptive bed,
Where, fondly held,
It grew the light of joy to shed,
And gloom dispelled.
Has to its soil congenial sped,
Within the heart's receptive bed,
Where, fondly held,
It grew the light of joy to shed,
And gloom dispelled.
Such word by loving lips conveyed,
—Forgotten, may be, soon as made,—
Falls like the rain upon the blade,
That, parched and dry,
Revives beneath its genial aid,
To glad the eye.
—Forgotten, may be, soon as made,—
Falls like the rain upon the blade,
That, parched and dry,
Revives beneath its genial aid,
To glad the eye.
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It lifts the clouds that life invest,
It gives a right ambition zest,
Makes latent good more manifest,
And Hope is near,
To lead the soul, through pathways blest,
To peace and cheer.
It gives a right ambition zest,
Makes latent good more manifest,
And Hope is near,
To lead the soul, through pathways blest,
To peace and cheer.
One such, by thee in kindness spoke,
A thrill within my heart awoke,
—A thrill scarce other could evoke,—
And new-found powers
Into more earnest effort broke,
In brighter hours.
A thrill within my heart awoke,
—A thrill scarce other could evoke,—
And new-found powers
Into more earnest effort broke,
In brighter hours.
The hand that feebly touched the lyre
Felt in its veins unwonted fire,
And trust arose, and new desire,
And spirit free,
Quickening the fancy to aspire,
Because of thee.
Felt in its veins unwonted fire,
And trust arose, and new desire,
And spirit free,
Quickening the fancy to aspire,
Because of thee.
More deftly ran the reel of rhyme,
More softly flowed the measured chime
That with the beat of thought kept time,
And though the song
Was neither graceful nor sublime,
Its hope was strong.
More softly flowed the measured chime
That with the beat of thought kept time,
And though the song
Was neither graceful nor sublime,
Its hope was strong.
Fame's trumpet note may ne'er attend,
To help the struggling thought ascend,
And with supernal glories blend;
But, more than this,
It to its little sphere may lend
A world of bliss.
To help the struggling thought ascend,
And with supernal glories blend;
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It to its little sphere may lend
A world of bliss.
The humble brook its song may pour,
The ripple murmur on the shore,
The bird with simple note upsoar,
As perfect shown,
As is Niagara's thunder-roar,
Or tempest's tone.
The ripple murmur on the shore,
The bird with simple note upsoar,
As perfect shown,
As is Niagara's thunder-roar,
Or tempest's tone.
He that may touch the humblest heart
By stroke of unassuming art,
Acts, in degree, as grand a part
As bards of might,
Who make the world's emotion start
And glow with light.
By stroke of unassuming art,
Acts, in degree, as grand a part
As bards of might,
Who make the world's emotion start
And glow with light.
To sing in gentle, loving lays,
Not waiting for approving bays,
Possessed of such sweet word of praise
As that you spoke,
Were better than the grandest blaze
That Fame e'er woke.
Not waiting for approving bays,
Possessed of such sweet word of praise
As that you spoke,
Were better than the grandest blaze
That Fame e'er woke.
Within my heart of heart I hold,
—Cherished more sacredly than gold,—
That word which made its hopes unfold,
In olden time,
And freights with gratitude untold
My present rhyme.
—Cherished more sacredly than gold,—
That word which made its hopes unfold,
In olden time,
And freights with gratitude untold
My present rhyme.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |