 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
112
THE PROMISED LAND.
I
Let some one else achieve it! it was fairThe poetic purpose that I had in view,
Sweet as the early sprinkling of the dew,
Fresh as the savour of a mountain-air,
That distant hint of bay-leaves for the hair,
The remote announcement of a work to do;
I stood bare-headed underneath the blue
Ready a stern allegiance to swear
To Beauty—but alas! it has passed away,
And I am cold and shiver and am sad
To think that lips of hers have signed a “Nay;”
I give them up! the joys I might have had,
But I would see them—from a present bad,
A cloudy foggy damp November day.
113
II
I would look to the summer that there might have been;I do not groan for loss alone, I mourn
The realization of my rapture torn
From out my mind, I weep for loves unseen;
I might have wandered with my Forest Queen
Through dim arched aisles of mystery, sunlit glades,
And sat with her beneath the beechen shades,
And trodden in time the bending grasses green,
And pressed soft palms upon the mossy floors,
Seated, and gazing upward in her eyes
That put to shame the efforts of the skies
When the strong sun has kissed the cloudy doors
Of heaven into Beauty—being wise
I might have won such ecstasy I ween.
114
III
But I was foolish, therefore have I failed;And yet I know not if the fault is mine
Entirely, or how much to Fate's design
Is due, for force of circumstance assailed
With vehemence the fortress of my Will;
But I will cease from groaning and be still,
If only this one thing for which I pine,
This boon for which incessant I have wailed
Be mine, to see as in a Panorama—
As unto Moses it was given to see
The Promised Land of Canaan that he
Was ne'er to enter in a warrior's armour—
If I may but behold my being's drama,
My ‘might have been’ expanded before me!
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