 | The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell |  |
111
DIRGE TO A SOUL DEPARTING.
(FOR MUSIC.)
Stay, flitting soul!
Wilt thou not longer stay?
Why dost thou hasten on that weary way,
Beyond these quiet realms of day,
Into the unknown land, where dim mists roll?
Look back! Look back
Along the well-known track,
Stretching far backward to dear scenes of spring!
There childhood's pretty memories lie:
The flowing hair, the beamy eye,
The bounding step, and joyous, ringing cry.
See the glad hopes that erst
The child's true spirit nurst,
By day in visions bright,
In whispering dreams by night;
Dost thou not yearn towards them, as we sing?
And youth's first real strife
With the breasting waves of life,
When strength was in the arm,
And the heart was proud and warm,
And the eye looked forth, without alarm,
For all that time could bring.
See, see those sunny days!
And let our soft dirge raise
Bright tempting scenes before thine eye to fling!
Look! Look! This world is bright;
But now thou loved'st its light;
Why dost thou turn away thy sight,
As from an evil thing?
Come to us back! Come to us back!
Let not our sorrowing spirits lack
The fellowship to which our strong loves cling!
Wilt thou not longer stay?
Why dost thou hasten on that weary way,
Beyond these quiet realms of day,
Into the unknown land, where dim mists roll?
Look back! Look back
Along the well-known track,
Stretching far backward to dear scenes of spring!
There childhood's pretty memories lie:
The flowing hair, the beamy eye,
The bounding step, and joyous, ringing cry.
See the glad hopes that erst
The child's true spirit nurst,
By day in visions bright,
In whispering dreams by night;
Dost thou not yearn towards them, as we sing?
And youth's first real strife
112
When strength was in the arm,
And the heart was proud and warm,
And the eye looked forth, without alarm,
For all that time could bring.
See, see those sunny days!
And let our soft dirge raise
Bright tempting scenes before thine eye to fling!
Look! Look! This world is bright;
But now thou loved'st its light;
Why dost thou turn away thy sight,
As from an evil thing?
Come to us back! Come to us back!
Let not our sorrowing spirits lack
The fellowship to which our strong loves cling!
[Weeping stillness.]
Is it so hard for thee to linger yet
Where thou hast been at home these many years?
Why should these long-familiar lendings fret
Now, more than ever, that thou fain wilt set
This pleasant form aside, that we with tears
Must wash; then put away
Out of our sight forever and for aye?
Come to us back! Come to us back!
Come, yet a little, to our fond hearts back!
Where thou hast been at home these many years?
Why should these long-familiar lendings fret
Now, more than ever, that thou fain wilt set
This pleasant form aside, that we with tears
Must wash; then put away
Out of our sight forever and for aye?
113
Come, yet a little, to our fond hearts back!
[Stillness.]
Why, why would'st thou forget
These once-loved voices, that, in every tone,
In days gone by, sweet influence have thrown
Around thee, answering warmly to thine own?
Wilt thou not listen? Hast thou no regret?
Wilt thou still forward, where is all unknown?
Wilt thou still forward?
And alone?
Oh, wilt thou venture such a path alone?
Turn! Turn! Come back! Come back!
Before thee how it gathers black!
Return, where all thou holdest dear are met!
These once-loved voices, that, in every tone,
In days gone by, sweet influence have thrown
Around thee, answering warmly to thine own?
Wilt thou not listen? Hast thou no regret?
Wilt thou still forward, where is all unknown?
Wilt thou still forward?
And alone?
Oh, wilt thou venture such a path alone?
Turn! Turn! Come back! Come back!
Before thee how it gathers black!
Return, where all thou holdest dear are met!
[Stillness.]
Thou loiterest still;
We see these casements fill
With the soft-falling, gentle mist
Where thou art looking out, once more,
To see the scene long-known and loved before.
We see these casements fill
With the soft-falling, gentle mist
Where thou art looking out, once more,
To see the scene long-known and loved before.
114
Hist! Hist!
This sternly-closéd door
From which glad words were wont to pour,
Is it forever closed? Will it not open more?
Is it in vain we list?
We mark, we mark its fixéd leaves
Tremble, as the soul still heaves
Against them feebly, as in doubt
To open yet to us that wait without;
Come, then! Oh, come!
This sternly-closéd door
From which glad words were wont to pour,
Is it forever closed? Will it not open more?
Is it in vain we list?
We mark, we mark its fixéd leaves
Tremble, as the soul still heaves
Against them feebly, as in doubt
To open yet to us that wait without;
Come, then! Oh, come!
[Stillness.]
But that faint, smothered cry!
Ah, smothered strife of agony!
Nay! we will let this weary body die!
Nay! flitting spirit, nay!
We will not have thee stay;
Go forward gladly on thy way;
Our songs shall cheer thee as thou goest home.
Ah, smothered strife of agony!
Nay! we will let this weary body die!
Nay! flitting spirit, nay!
We will not have thee stay;
Go forward gladly on thy way;
Our songs shall cheer thee as thou goest home.
Farewell! Farewell! Close we these open eyes.
No more wilt thou be looking forth, this way,
Who once hast caught, afar, the light of Paradise.
Our love shall give this form to long decay,
That, when thou comest back for it, shall rise
A glorious body, at the Judgment-Day.
No more wilt thou be looking forth, this way,
Who once hast caught, afar, the light of Paradise.
115
That, when thou comest back for it, shall rise
A glorious body, at the Judgment-Day.
On! On! thou blessed soul! See Jesus wait;
Thy lamp of faith is trimmed, but all is light;
The path leads forward, to the open gate;
He waits thee smiling, and the way is bright.
On, faithful soul!
Our swelling songs shall roll
Sweet, melancholy surges here behind,
That full of memory thou shalt find,
As one, slow-sailing from the outward shore
Of a dear land oft wandered o'er,
Hears, in still night, its wave-voice on the wind.
Thou art quitting, now, the verge
Of this long-belovéd land,
And mayest listen, still, the surge
Heave up upon the strand.
On! On! yet let our song
Still go with thee along,
'Till it is lost amid the strain
Of Christ's glorious spirit-train
As another soul they gain
To sweet Paradise, no more to live, no more to love, as here on earth, in vain.
Our earth-born dirges cease:
Pass, Christian soul, in peace!
Peace that Christ giveth:
PEACE!
Thy lamp of faith is trimmed, but all is light;
The path leads forward, to the open gate;
He waits thee smiling, and the way is bright.
On, faithful soul!
Our swelling songs shall roll
Sweet, melancholy surges here behind,
That full of memory thou shalt find,
As one, slow-sailing from the outward shore
Of a dear land oft wandered o'er,
Hears, in still night, its wave-voice on the wind.
Thou art quitting, now, the verge
Of this long-belovéd land,
And mayest listen, still, the surge
Heave up upon the strand.
On! On! yet let our song
Still go with thee along,
'Till it is lost amid the strain
Of Christ's glorious spirit-train
As another soul they gain
116
Our earth-born dirges cease:
Pass, Christian soul, in peace!
Peace that Christ giveth:
PEACE!
January, 1846.
| The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell | |