Madmoments: or First Verseattempts :: :: University of Virginia Library

Seest thou yon Child, all life and joy, at play
Upon that dark grave's brink? how heedlesly
He sports, unknowing what it is to die!
No fretting thoughts of what he is, or may
Become, annoy his heart, yet in his way
Fate's manymeshëd net is spread, and nigh
His young feet wander carelessly, as fly
Young birds into the Fowler's toils: thus aye,

The grave and cradle touch; mark how he plays
With that grim, fleshless scull, as tho' it were
Nought but a toy, no moral strange might bear
To his young thought, and his small finger strays
Along the eyeless socket where stern Care
And Time, have quenched in dust the once bright rays;
The Beam of Laughter, Love, perhaps Despair,
Dwelt where the worm, vile Tenant! holds their Place!

2.

Strange Contrast'twixt the grave and life; the first
And last of all, that man may be or know,
Till Death has lifted from the Future's Brow
The aweful veil! untill he learn the worst,
Or best, that unreached Bourne may bring, and burst,
As from his Mother's womb, so from this low
Dim, ignorant present, and immortal grow!
The child sports on the brink, his balance lost,
The crumbling earth falls in, and there he lies!
E'en so! a little while, a few years run,
And ring their changes in his heart and eyes,
A few brief tears, a few false smiles quickflown,
The birthday, mariage, deathbell, and all's done!
And then above his grave some child shall play likewise!

3.

And there they are together, those two strange,
Wild mysteries of Life and Death! so wide
Apart, and yet so near, that Fancy's Range
Scarce dares to grasp what one brief moment's stride
Can overstep, more easily than might
A babe a wheelrut! see them, side by side,
One coming whence we know not, Heavenslight
Spent and relit by unseen power, within
This frail Claylamp, changedim'd and soiled by sin!
The other leading whither we know not,

A narrow Gateway, yet where none need strain,
Not e'en Napoleon, the «Great;» through which
All, all must pass; kings, beggars, poor, and rich,
Bare as they came, whose Toll is death's brief pain!
Haply returning to the selfsame spot,
From whence we came, thus both ends meet again!

4.

Strange world of Contrasts, where opposed things,
That seem the most removed, are frequent thrown
In closest contact, and the change from one
To other, is as quick, as tho' the wings
Of some wild dream had brought them. Thus Time rings
His mighty changes, moving sternly on
While, to his music, Joy and Sorrow run
Their mazy Rounds quick varying, as he flings
His changeful notes; and Life and Death hardby
Cross hands unconsciously: thus the same day,
The beggar doffs his rags of misery,
And the rich fool aside his pomp must lay;
The grave, while marriagebells are ringing nigh,
Is dug, and the two Trains oft jostle on the way!

5.

Strange world! where oft, our glad smiles turn to tears,
Ere they have flown the lip, as tho' they were
Cameleonwise, one essence, and like air,
Changed shape and hue each moment! Thus our fears
And hopes reciprocate, thus stern Time wears
The fretted heart, till its pulse'neath despair
To agony is quickened — from past years
Rise spectres, whose glance we can scarcely bear;
Or fresh griefs open up each early wound,
Ere they have time to close! alas! our life,
Passes, like some strange dream, a constant strife,
'Twixt what we are and would be; while around

We seek the flowers from which Joy fills his hive,
Withered they fall, and nought but thorns are found!

6.

Be wise, and pluck lifesflowers ere they fade,
Thy youth's bright flowers, while the Heavendew,
Time's first unsullied drops, the Leaves still strew,
And with them weave a garland, which, when made
Place on the altar of thy God, instead
Of leaving them to wither, till each hue
Of freshness fades — be wise! life's plant no new,
Or sweeter can produce, till thou art dead,
And from the dust thy gooddeeds blossom bright
Unto eternal Spring; give not thy years,
Thy fruitful years of youth unto the blight
Of sinful revelry; but once it bears,
And its firstfruits are holy in God's sight!
Once lost, Time sends instead of dew, but barren tears.