The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems By Gerald Massey. Fifth Edition, Revised and Enlarged |
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A GLIMPSE OF AULD LANG-SYNE. |
 | The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems |  |
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A GLIMPSE OF AULD LANG-SYNE.
Earth, garnisht Bride-like, bares her bosom to the nestling Night,
Who hath come down in glory from the golden halls of light;
Who hath come down in glory from the golden halls of light;
Ten thousand tender, starry eyes smile o'er the world at rest,
The weary world—husht like an infant on its mother's breast!
The weary world—husht like an infant on its mother's breast!
The great old hills thrust up their foreheads in rich-sleeping light:
How proudly-grand, and still they stand, worshipping God to-night!
How proudly-grand, and still they stand, worshipping God to-night!
The flowers have hung their cups with gems of their own sweetness wrought,
And muse upon their stems, in smiling ecstasy of thought:
And muse upon their stems, in smiling ecstasy of thought:
They have banquetted on beauty, at the fragrant Eve's red lips,
And fold in charméd rest, with crowns upon their velvet tips.
And fold in charméd rest, with crowns upon their velvet tips.
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No green tide sweeps the sea of leaves, no wind-sigh stirs the sod,
While Holiness broods dove-like on the soul, begetting God.
While Holiness broods dove-like on the soul, begetting God.
Sweet hour! thou wak'st the feeling that we never know by day,
For Angel eyes look down, and read the spirit 'neath the clay:
For Angel eyes look down, and read the spirit 'neath the clay:
Even while I list, such music stealeth in upon my soul,
As though adown heaven's stair of stars, the seraph-harpings stole—
As though adown heaven's stair of stars, the seraph-harpings stole—
Or I could grasp the immortal part of life, and soar, and soar,
Such strong wings take me, and my heart hath found such hidden lore!
Such strong wings take me, and my heart hath found such hidden lore!
It flings aside the weight of years, and lovingly goes back,
To that sweet time, the dear old days, that glisten on its track!
To that sweet time, the dear old days, that glisten on its track!
Life's wither'd leaves grow green again, and fresh with Childhood's spring,
As I am welcomed back once more within its rainbowring:—
As I am welcomed back once more within its rainbowring:—
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The Past, with all its gather'd charms, beckons me back in joy,
And loving hearts, and open arms, re-clasp me as a boy.
And loving hearts, and open arms, re-clasp me as a boy.
The voices of the Loved and Lost are stirring at my heart,
And Memory's miser'd treasures leap to life, with sudden start,—
And Memory's miser'd treasures leap to life, with sudden start,—
As through her darken'd windows, warm and glad sunlight creeps in,
And Lang-syne, glimpst in glorious tears, my toil-worn heart doth win.
And Lang-syne, glimpst in glorious tears, my toil-worn heart doth win.
Thou art looking, smiling on me, as thou hast lookt and smiled, Mother,
And I am sitting by thy side, at heart a very child, Mother!
And I am sitting by thy side, at heart a very child, Mother!
I'm with thee now in soul, sweet Mother, much as in those hours,
When all my wealth was in thy love, and in the birds and flowers,
When all my wealth was in thy love, and in the birds and flowers,
When the long summer days were short, for my glad soul to live
The golden fulness of the bliss, each happy hour could give.
The golden fulness of the bliss, each happy hour could give.
When Heaven sang to my innocence, and every leafy grove
And forest ached with music, as a young heart aches with love.
And forest ached with music, as a young heart aches with love.
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When life oped like a flower, where clung my lips, to quaff its honey,
And joys throng'd like a shower of gold king-cups in meadows sunny.
And joys throng'd like a shower of gold king-cups in meadows sunny.
I'll tell thee, Mother! since we met, stern changes have come o'er me:
Then life smiled like a paradise, the world was all before me.
Then life smiled like a paradise, the world was all before me.
O! I was full of trustful faith, and, in my glee and gladness,
Deem'd not that others had begun as bright, whose end was madness.
Deem'd not that others had begun as bright, whose end was madness.
I knew not smiles could light up eyes, like Sunset's laughing glow
On some cold stream, which burns above, while all runs dark below;
On some cold stream, which burns above, while all runs dark below;
That on Love's summer sea, great souls go down, while some, grown cold,
Seal up affection's living spring, and sell their love for gold;
Seal up affection's living spring, and sell their love for gold;
How they on whom we'd staked the heart forget the early vow,
And they who swore to love through life would pass all coldly now;
And they who swore to love through life would pass all coldly now;
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How, in the soul's dark hour, Love's temple-veil is rent in twain,
And the heart quivers thorn-crown'd on the cross of fiery pain.
And the heart quivers thorn-crown'd on the cross of fiery pain.
And shatter'd idols, broken dreams, come crowding on my brain,
As speaks the spirit-voice of days that never come again.
As speaks the spirit-voice of days that never come again.
It tells of golden moments lost—heart sear'd—blind Passion's thrall;
Life's spring-tide blossoms run to waste, Love's honey turn'd to gall.
Life's spring-tide blossoms run to waste, Love's honey turn'd to gall.
It tells how many and often high resolve and purpose strong,
Shaped on the anvil of my heart, have died upon my tongue.
Shaped on the anvil of my heart, have died upon my tongue.
I left thee, Mother, in sweet May, the merry month of flowers,
To toil away in dusky gloom the golden summer-hours.
To toil away in dusky gloom the golden summer-hours.
I left my world of love behind, with soul for life a-thirsting,
My burning eyelid dropt no tear, although my heart was bursting.
My burning eyelid dropt no tear, although my heart was bursting.
For I had knit my soul to climb, with poverty its burden;
Give me but time, O give me time, and I would win the guerdon.
Give me but time, O give me time, and I would win the guerdon.
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Ah, Mother! many a heart that all my aspiration cherisht
Hath fallen in the trampling strife, and in the life-march perisht.
Hath fallen in the trampling strife, and in the life-march perisht.
We see the bleeding victims lie upon the world's grim Altar,
And one by one young feelings die, and dark doubts make us falter.
And one by one young feelings die, and dark doubts make us falter.
Mother, the world hath wreakt its part on me, with scathing power,
Yet the best life that heaves my heart runs for thee at this hour.
Yet the best life that heaves my heart runs for thee at this hour.
And by these holy yearnings, by these eyes with sweet tears wet,
I know there wells a spring of love through all my being yet.
I know there wells a spring of love through all my being yet.
| The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems | |