The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | VI. |
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THE SUBTERRANEAN STREAM. |
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| VII. |
 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
164
THE SUBTERRANEAN STREAM.
“Thou stream,
Whose source is inaccessibly profound,
Whither do thy mysterious waters tend?
—Thou imagest my life.”
Darkly thou glidest onward,
Thou deep and hidden wave!
The laughing sunshine hath not look'd
Into thy secret cave.
Thou deep and hidden wave!
The laughing sunshine hath not look'd
Into thy secret cave.
Thy current makes no music—
A hollow sound we hear,
A muffled voice of mystery,
And know that thou art near.
A hollow sound we hear,
A muffled voice of mystery,
And know that thou art near.
No brighter line of verdure
Follows thy lonely way;
No fairy moss, or lily's cup,
Is freshen'd by thy play.
Follows thy lonely way;
No fairy moss, or lily's cup,
Is freshen'd by thy play.
The halcyon doth not seek thee,
Her glorious wings to lave;
Thou know'st no tint of the summer sky,
Thou dark and hidden wave!
Her glorious wings to lave;
Thou know'st no tint of the summer sky,
Thou dark and hidden wave!
Yet once will day behold thee,
When to the mighty sea,
Fresh bursting from their cavern'd veins.
Leap thy lone waters free.
When to the mighty sea,
Fresh bursting from their cavern'd veins.
Leap thy lone waters free.
165
There wilt thou greet the sunshine
For a moment, and be lost,
With all thy melancholy sounds,
In the ocean's billowy host.
For a moment, and be lost,
With all thy melancholy sounds,
In the ocean's billowy host.
Oh! art thou not, dark river,
Like the fearful thoughts untold,
Which haply in the hush of night
O'er many a soul have roll'd?
Like the fearful thoughts untold,
Which haply in the hush of night
O'er many a soul have roll'd?
Those earth-born strange misgivings—
Who hath not felt their power?
Yet who hath breathed them to his friend,
E'en in his fondest hour?
Who hath not felt their power?
Yet who hath breathed them to his friend,
E'en in his fondest hour?
They hold no heart communion,
They find no voice in song,
They dimly follow far from earth
The grave's departed throng.
They find no voice in song,
They dimly follow far from earth
The grave's departed throng.
Wild is their course, and lonely,
And fruitless in man's breast;
They come and go, and leave no trace
Of their mysterious guest.
And fruitless in man's breast;
They come and go, and leave no trace
Of their mysterious guest.
Yet surely must their wanderings
At length be like thy way;
Their shadows, as thy waters, lost
In one bright flood of day!
At length be like thy way;
Their shadows, as thy waters, lost
In one bright flood of day!
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |