University of Virginia Library

TO THE MOON.

World amongst worlds! the crowned, the girt with power—
The minister of Nature's heavenliest hour,
O, Moon, thou art! and still dost thou appear
Calmly victorious o'er each vassal sphere!
Thou lookest holy—pale—severely bright!
Thou lovely Zion of the Heavens! while night,
Beneath thy calm and solemnizing sway,
Seems e'en more glorious than the orient day!
Thou lovely Zion! throned 'midst thrones on high,
City of shadowless transparency,
Islanded in the blue untroubled sky!
Ark of blest refuge, as perchance thou art,
For earth's lost doves—they of the wounded heart!
Shrine of the wandering thoughts! bright pillar'd tent!
Heaven's landmark in the outstretched firmament!
That archipelago of severed orbs,
Whose beauty thrills—electrifies—absorbs
The mind—which, triumphing or trembling, soars
In passionate greeting from earth's pensive shores.
But thou! 'tis to the heart—the heart thou speakest—
'Tis on the heart thy softening power thou wreakest!
Breathing along it—till 'tis winged with light,
And fain to thee would shape its towering flight,
Thou lovely Zion of the Heavens of night!—
And now, while gazing on heav'n's seas of blue,
The halcyon of one hope I faintly woo
Unto my desolate and undreaming heart,
Which hath beheld so many hopes depart,
Like the light clouds which, soft-disporting, play,
Then on the breeze that brought them float away !—
The creatures of a moment! Such ye've been—
But, ah! my hopes—my life's once smiling scene,
Hath, by your vanishing, been darkened o'er!
Ye have stripped the hues its wide horizon wore;
Ye've swept the flower-leaves from its stems borne down;
Disturbed its doves of peace—far, far they've flown,
And crushed the idols in its holds enshrin'd!
And sad bequeathments have ye left behind—
Cold shadows, trailing o'er earth's loveliest things,
And blights and poisons — chains, and taints, and stings—
Echoes that murmuringly rise and roll,
Troubling the precious music of the soul!
Echoes—like last notes of a dying bird,
When on some bleak and gusty night they're heard—
The low, low harpings of a spirit blighted—
In its own wastes bewildered and benighted;
While still the wind that calls the music forth
Sighs from the past!—the black and dreary north
Of the long-disenchanted heart!—which grows
Deadly unto itself, with cankering woes,
And only to the touch that wounds it turns—
And only with the flame that scathes it burns!
And seeks alone the kindred things of grief
To bind its shadowy wreath!—the nightshade's leaf,
The slumberous poppy, and the yew-bough chief!
O, how the full-blown life, and full-blown pride
Of the strong present, palls on hearts allied,
By rivetted bonds, unto the long ago!
And checks the sickening spirit's wayward glow,
And seems a smile of mockery round to throw;
While memory's pale and scattered leaves are driv'n
Across our onward path! and, sweet as heaven,
Pure spray-drops from the fountains of the past
Fall on the fountains of life's lengthening waste—
Making a melody all soft and wild;
While with those Marah-waves,—yet undefiled,—
They mix! then midst oblivion's keyless caves
Freeze, petrify, or waste—yet my heart craves
E'en their brief freshness! since denied must be
Hope's springs of jubilee and joyauncy!
But are they sealed indeed against me now?
While vainly throbs and aches this fevered brow?
Sweet Hopes! delay! shine yet beyond the strife—
Above the cold Asphaltes of my life!
As stars o'er graves and deserts. Part not yet—
(Since all the lights of life, save ye, are set!)
Part not!—Alas! ye're gone! bewild'ring dreams!
While yet I feel your faintly-visioned gleams
Now chillier than the moonlight glimpsing pale,
O'er freezing snows that gird some alpine vale.
Gone—gone! and, Parthian-like, they've turned and thrown
Keen arrows—that remain, though they have flown!
Like the Greek torch-race once seemed their career,
On! on! Joy's quenchless torch they flew to bear.
But let them go! O, there are promised joys,
Impenetrable unto time's alloys!
Joys that shall never fade, and never fly—
Meet for the children of eternity!
And, looking on those midnight heavens that spread
A wilderness of worlds above my head,
Well may my heart in those proud hopes exult,
And turn from dreams obscure, and thoughts occult,
To that resplendent—that soul-kindling blaze,
That soul-bewildering—that o'erpowering maze,
That everlasting and astounding page—
(Defying withering time, age after age!)
Where even the Holy Word seems stamped and streaming,
Through worlds—dread worlds on fire!—for ever beaming!
And charactered in light along the sky!
Ye stars! Probationers of the eternity!
Persistent in unbroken harmony!
Enlighteners and intelligencers meek,
That all but breathe and smile — that more than speak!
And thou, deep Moon!—thou spiritually intense—
Thou loveliest shadow of Omnipotence!
Ye do bring thoughts, and dreams, and hopes august,
To lift the weeping mourner from the dust!
The ambitious worldling from his tinselled toys—
The prodigal from his inglorious joys!
The sufferer from the dim shades of the tomb,
And even the sceptic from the depths of gloom!
Shine on, thou wond'rous Moon! prevailing shine—
A power—a task—a mystery is thine!
Thou seem'st too softly gentle to control
These night-flowers, whose rich breathings sweetly roll
On the faint breeze!—(all tremulously blushing!
The heavy atmosphere around them flushing!
Their coloured censers drooping towards the moss,
Which rays illuminate and dews emboss)—
Yet in thy fragile loveliness, calm Moon,
Thou hast sway as regal as the lord of noon!
O'er the deep world of waters thou dost reign,
Binding the tides in thy elastic chain.
Thou art their strength and trust—their life and soul,
And still beneath thy silvery sway they roll;
Thou art their crown and shield—their light and guide—
From Heaven thou rulest their infuriate pride!
O, that in my dark being set, some light
From heaven—to heaven would guide my course aright—
Ruling my soul's deep waters midst the rushing night!