University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Sungleams

Rondeaux and Sonnets. By the Rev. Richard Wilton
  
  

expand section 
RONDEAUX.
expand section 


13

RONDEAUX.


15

To the Reader.

Sungleams I bring to cheer the way
Of those who 'neath Life's shadows stray:
As when through over-arching green,
Whose leafy depths the song-birds screen,
Glimmers full many a flickering ray.
In measures of an olden day
I weave my unambitious lay,
But through these artful forms, I ween,
Sungleams I bring.
For round these songs of earth, I pray,
Oh that Heaven's smile may kindly play:
Then gliding down there will be seen
A ray of God's own light serene,
And he who reads perforce will say,
Sungleams I bring.
Londesborough Rectory, Midsummer Day, 1881.

17

I. “LUX MEA CHRISTUS;” CHRIST BE MY LIGHT.

Christ be my Light, to show the way,
As through Life's doubtful paths I stray,
A pillar of soft fire by night,
To guide my darkling footsteps right,
And an illumined cloud by day.
When earth's sweet sunshine fades away,
And mists of evening gather grey,
And one dark Shadow looms in sight,
Christ be my Light.
When Heaven's gate shows its pearly ray,
And golden splendours round me play,
And I behold God's armies bright
Circling the throne in lustrous white,
Still let my longing spirit say,
Christ be my Light!

18

II. MY WINDOW BIRDS.

My window birds, I love to strew
With punctual hand the crumbs for you,
Flying for comfort day by day
From frozen woodland and highway,
And bringing Christmas bills now due!
Fair creditors of every hue,
Crimson and yellow, brown and blue,
Whate'er your thoughts, your coats are gay,
My window birds.
Your claims are neither small nor few,
Dated, when May-flowers drank the dew,
And on sweet pipes ye used to play,
Scattering full many a golden lay;
Now ye for wages mutely sue,
My window birds.

19

III. SWAN AND CYGNETS.

Under her wing, soft, fair, and wide,
Her tender cygnets safely hide,
Or follow her, as to and fro
She gently steers her plumes of snow,
Which o'er the dimpling water slide.
Secure they nestle at her side,
Secure along the lake they glide,
Sure of a home where'er they go,
Under her wing.
Ah, of a wing more white I know,
Unfailing refuge here below,
Where I may feel, whate'er betide,
If in its shadow I abide,
How Grace can peace and rest bestow
Under her wing.

20

IV. SNOWDROPS AND ACONITES.

Silver and gold! The snowdrop white
And yellow-blossomed aconite,
Waking from Winter's slumber cold,
Their hoarded treasures now unfold,
And scatter them to left and right.
Ah, with how much more rare delight
Upon my sense their colours smite
Than if my fingers were to hold
Silver and gold.
They bear the superscription bright
Of the great King of love and might,
Who stamped such beauty there of old
That men might learn, as ages rolled,
To trust in God, nor worship quite
Silver and gold.

21

V. THE SNOWDROP DIES.

The snowdrop dies, yet the woods ring
With happy voices of the Spring,
As if they would rebuke the sighs
Which in the pensive heart arise,
To see such grace so soon take wing.
This is a time to dance and sing,
And not round mournful fancies cling,
Or murmur forth, with downcast eyes,
The snowdrop dies!
Full many a flower can Nature bring,
And richer hues about her fling:
Look up and see the sunlit skies;
Beauty remains, though beauty flies:
By fiat of fair Nature's King
The snowdrop dies.

22

VI. THE THRUSH.

With bursts of praise the thrushes cheer
The faint gleams of the newborn year:
No thought of lurking Winter stays
The careless gladness of their lays:
A present brightness quenches fear.
They heed not clouds that gather near;
They wait not till May-flowers appear;
But hail the warmth of transient rays
With bursts of praise.
O wise and happy soul that pays
Thanks for each gleam that lights our days;
Nor claims a bliss complete and clear
Before it warbles in God's ear,
But glorifies Life's common ways
With bursts of praise.

24

VIII. THE CELANDINE.

Bright celandine, a Poet's eye
Has glorified your destiny,
Making your yellow petals shine
With a new lustre half-divine,
Caught from his smile and notice high.
The earliest bees that murmur by
Pause as your chalice they espy,
And linger o'er the nectar fine,
Bright celandine.
To me you are a blessed sign,
That cheers my spirit more than wine,
Of golden sunshine, and clear sky,
And hosts of flowers that muster nigh—
Captain of all the jocund line,
Bright celandine.
 

See Wordsworth's three poems on this flower.


25

IX. ANEMONES, OR WIND-FLOWERS.

Anemones in pink and white,
With gladsome looks ye meet our sight,
And when keen April breezes blow,
Ye toss your tresses to and fro,
And dance as in the wind's despite.
Here in our woodland walks ye smite
The wondering eye with new delight,
For in a golden garb we show
Anemones.
Twinkle, ye sylvan stars of light,
With cheery rays on Sorrow's night,
And teach us, as with footsteps slow
Through this sad windy world we go,
To emulate the brave and bright
Anemones.
 

The yellow Anemone is found in Londesborough Pleasure Grounds.


27

XI. SWEET VIOLETS.

Sweet violets, once more I view
Your lovely petals white and blue!
Your odorous breath once more I feel
Like far-off music o'er me steal,
While tearful joys my soul imbue.
Ye glisten as with childhood's dew;
I see the banks where then ye grew;
Founts of remembrance ye unseal,
Sweet violets.
For children still your fragrance strew—
For ever fair, for ever new:
But while fresh beauties ye reveal,
Still to the fading Past appeal:
Be kind to Hope, to Memory true,
Sweet violets.

28

XII. SAD AND ALONE.

Sad and alone and seeking rest
From cares that agitate the breast,
I saw beneath a shady bower
A tall and tapering lily-flower,
Nodding at ease its turbaned crest.
Hard by, a bird in mossy nest
Her speckled eggs securely prest,
And felt not, brooding hour by hour,
Sad and alone.
O vision sweet of peace and power,
And bright with more than Nature's dower!
O bird and lily, ye have blest
With healing balm a heart distrest;
Nor will I feel, when shadows lower,
Sad and alone.

29

XV. O'ER UNKNOWN GRAVES.

O'er unknown graves the snowdrops bloom,
And with a line of light illume
These mouldering mounds of faded green,
Where long ago Love's hand was seen
Decking with flowers the recent tomb.
Lost are their very names for whom
Love wrought—in dark oblivion's doom,
But still the snowdrops shine serene
O'er unknown graves.
If when we quit this mortal scene
We are as though we had not been,
For other faces making room—
Hope, like a snowdrop, lights the gloom;
Nature and God keep watch, I ween,
O'er unknown graves.

32

XVI. ON A WREATH OF FLOWERS FROM JERUSALEM.

The Holy Land this wreath has lent,
Of gold and scarlet gaily blent
With humbler tints of green and blue—
The self-same flowers that met Love's view,
While here His pilgrim years He spent.
O'er such fair favourites I have bent
When through our English lanes I went,
And loved the very blooms that strew
The Holy Land.
O flowers of East or West, to you
Our faithless hearts the Saviour drew
For everlasting solacement;
Marking your every hue and scent
As with mild eyes He wandered through
The Holy Land.

33

XVII. ON A PICTURE OF A PASSION-FLOWER UPON A CROSS.

A passion-flower upon the Tree,
Where Love once drooped to set me free,
Unfolds, as with a gracious dower
Of peace and loveliness and power,
And bright expanding liberty.
This blossom fair a type shall be
Of Innocence that bled for me,
To make my heart from hour to hour
A passion-flower.
O blessèd Cross, I cling to thee
For time and for eternity:
The barren Tree becomes a bower,
A pleasure-house, a refuge-tower,
While in each drop of blood I see
A passion-flower.

34

XVIII. SWEET EYES OF BLUE.

To my Grandson, on the first anniversary of his birthday, May 19, 1880.

Sweet eyes of blue, I miss your light,
Flashed for a while upon my sight,
As lucid as the morning dew,
Or May-flower bursting into view
With its first petals fair and bright.
Your orbs are fountains of delight,
Twin mirrors of the azure height;
Heaven seems to kiss the earth in you,
Sweet eyes of blue.
Shine on in meekness and in might,
Like stars that tremble through the night;
And, as life's journey we pursue,
Like speedwells bring us comfort true,
And still to Heavenly hope invite,
Sweet eyes of blue.

36

XXI. THE SEPULCHRE.

The Sepulchre, the sacred Tomb—
Link not its name with thoughts of gloom;
For near it smiled a garden-ground,
And many a branching tree was found
Where birds to roost and sing had room.
Here lilies hung their fair white bloom,
And roses shed a rich perfume,
And vines with twining tendrils crowned
The Sepulchre.
Approach, my soul, without a sound,
But let all peaceful thoughts abound:
This place is potent to illume
The dimness of thy mortal doom,
And spread a wreath of hope around
The Sepulchre.

38

XXII. ASCENSION-DAY.

Ascension-Day, the crown of Spring,
Thy praises let the woodlands ring,
Let music flow from every spray—
A mingled but harmonious lay—
Or soar aloft on the lark's wing.
Let opening blossoms incense fling,
And silky leaves their banners bring,
While mounting sap attests thy sway,
Ascension-day.
My soul, my glory, rise and sing,
Bursting the chains which bind and cling:
Still let me climb the Heavenward way;
Till, while I praise and work and pray,
'Tis always, through my Lord and King,
Ascension-day!

39

XXIII “SPRING UP, O WELL!”

(For Whitsunday.)

Spring up, O Well,” the way is drear,
No pleasant streams are murmuring here;
But barren sands stretch all around,
Where not a shadow cools the ground,
And not a song-bird soothes the ear.
O Living Water, let me hear
Thy cadence, musical and clear:
Flowers bloom, birds sing, where Thou art found,—
“Spring up, O Well!”
In Thy still depths will oft appear
An Image fair, which I hold dear—
Whose Presence makes all joys abound,
Whose Voice commingles with Thy sound;
And since He smiles, when Thou art near,
“Spring up, O Well!”
 

Numb. xxi. 17.


40

XXIV. SWEET MELMERBY.

Sweet Melmerby, thou lurkest well
Beneath the shadow of Cross Fell,
Where centuries since was lifted high
The Sign whose glory ne'er will die,
While mortals list to sorrow's knell.
Thy name is potent to dispel
The weariness of Care, and tell
Of all that cheers the heart and eye,
Sweet Melmerby!
Peace and repose within thee dwell,
Or wander down thy sylvan dell,
Lulled by the brook that singeth nigh;
Or wood-dove's sylvan melody,
Meet symbol of thy mystic spell,
Sweet Melmerby!

41

XXV. GLENCRIPISDALE.

Glencripisdale, thy name bestows
A sylvan joy, a wild repose—
With hanging wood and winding glen,
Sequestered from the feet of men,
But which the antlered wanderer knows.
What balmy air about thee blows,
Round thy blue loch what beauty glows,
No pencil can declare, or pen,
Glencripisdale.
O'er sounding falls thy river flows,
Whose muffled thunder comes and goes:
Far skiey peaks allure the ken,
Now shining fair, now veiled again;
While guardian mountains round thee close,
Glencripisdale.

43

XXVII. GOD WILL PROVIDE.

God will provide.”—Amid the beat
And noise of wheels and tramping feet,
I caught the unexpected sound,
Which, with the light of holy ground,
Illumed the dim and squalid street.
And whose the voice my ear to greet
With that Divine assurance sweet—
Old music which Moriah crowned,—
“God will provide”?
I turned. Two women coarsely gowned,
Shawls loosely wrapped their heads around,
An infant bore with footsteps fleet:
Care in their hearts had fixed its seat,
But they Heaven's antidote had found—
“God will provide.”

44

XXVIII. TREASURE IN HEAVEN.

Treasure in Heaven, how rich and rare!
Scarce aught is left on earth so fair;
An angel-history just begun,
The jewel of an only son,
Taken and laid up safely there!
Oh, he was precious, yet I dare
Entrust him to Love's unseen care;
I miss him here, but I have won
Treasure in Heaven.
Such whiteness as the snowdrops wear,
Or lilies sweetening all the air,
Circles his name beneath the sun:
And till my earthly course is run,
There shines for me, howe'er I fare,
Treasure in Heaven.

45

XXIX. SNOWDROPS IN SNOW.

Snowdrops in snow to-day are seen,
Mingling a twofold ray serene—
Whiteness of earth with greenish hue,
Whiteness of heaven just touched with blue;
'Tis hard to choose such rays between.
Nought could endure that heavenly sheen
But this immaculate bloom, I ween;
Nay, this is fairer of the two—
Snowdrops in snow.
From a dry ground at Nazareth grew
Such a meek spotless Flower, and drew
Sweet human tinge from earthly scene—
The One pure Life that here has been;
I think of it whene'er I view
Snowdrops in snow.

46

XXX. HEAVEN ON THE EARTH.

“As the days of heaven on the earth.”
Deut. xi. 21.

Heaven on the earth! It meets our eyes
In this terrestrial Paradise,
Where Sunart's waves of azure sheen
Greeting the glen of glens are seen,
And smiling to the Summer skies;—
Where the protecting mountains rise,
Enamelled with purpureal dyes,
And flashing from their brows serene
Heaven on the Earth.
Where thoughts of One will intervene
Who shared with us this lovely scene;
But gazes now in rapt surprise
On beauty such as far outvies
All that to him or us hath been
Heaven on the Earth.

47

XXXI. “THE LORD IS THERE.”

The Lord is there!”—O title high
Which o'er yon portal I espy—
Fair entrance of a City fair,
Fann'd with the breath of balmy air
Fresh from the Tree of life hard by.
All precious stones that charm the eye,
Pearl-gates with streets of gold that vie,
Must pale before that wonder rare—
“The Lord is there.”
O City of the saints, though I
For your sweet rest and glory sigh,
Yet now your chiefest joy I share,
If in my heart Christ's peace I bear,
And hear One whisper graciously,
“The Lord is there.”
 

Ezek. xlviii. 35.


48

XXXII. MOTHER AND CHILD.

Mother and child—I see them now:
The light on that young mother's brow,
As at the Font she takes her stand;
Nor comes to God with empty hand,
But brings her babe and seals her vow.
Wild berries of the rowan-bough
With beauty rare the Font endow,
As if a breath of Nature fann'd
Mother and child.
But whence this holier Breath, and how?
From no fair groves of earth, I trow.
'Tis wafted from a brighter land,
From Heavenly bowers serene and grand—
Best boon our Father can allow
Mother and child.

49

XXXIII. THE WOODBINE IN THE WOOD.

Unseen, unknown, this lovely flower
Sweetened and beautified its bower,
With none to witness it was fair,
Or know how it enriched the air,
Responsive to the sun and shower.
A gloom of pines might round it lower,
Jealous to keep its fragrant dower;
Contentedly it blossomed there,
Unseen, unknown.
May I its humble wisdom share,
And serve the Master anywhere,
Submissive to His love and power;
And wait with patience for His hour
To place the crown on work and prayer
Unseen, unknown.

50

XXXIV. MY LITTLE GIRLS.

My little girls”—alas! no more
I speak those words so sweet of yore,
When at my feet ye used to play,
Or in my arms securely lay,
Dear innocents of two and four.
Love's messages to me ye bore
In broken lights of Heavenly lore,
Which touched with soft reflected ray
My little girls.
Ye seemed to linger by the door
Which opens from the Eternal shore,
Where “babes and sucklings” day by day
Divinely prattle, praise, and pray;
And whence a glory hovered o'er
My little girls.

51

XXXV. A DAUGHTER'S LOVE.

A daughter's love—what symbol rare
Can with its preciousness compare?
'Tis like the clinging eglantine,
Whose odorous summer-wreaths entwine
An ancient oak-tree gnarled and bare.
Or when, with waving blossoms fair,
The wild-rose scents the morning air,
I welcome, in the fragrance fine,
A daughter's love.
'Tis like the clusters of the vine,
Which warm the heart with purple wine,
Soothing the furrowed brow of Care:
'Tis like all sweet things everywhere,
Which can but hint—when they combine—
A daughter's love.

52

XXXVI. TO FRIENDS ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR WEDDING-DAY.

Your wedding-day,—God make it bright
With earthly and with heavenly light:
So friends, both near and far away,
On this auspicious morning pray:
God deck its shining hours in white!
As Memory brings the Past to sight,
Thank Him who led your steps aright,
And with a wreath of praise array
Your wedding-day.
And if you miss one sunny ray
Which for a moment cheered your way,
Think of the blossom of delight
That waits you on that happy height,
And blesses now, as well he may,
Your wedding-day.

53

XXXVII. TO FRIENDS SOJOURNING AMONG THE VAUDOIS.

O friends of mine, beloved of old,
Whom time and circumstance withhold
From dear communion face to face—
Have kindly thoughts of me found place
'Mid Vaudois mountains towering bold?
Where peaks their snowy brows unfold,
And rivers in cascades are rolled,
Seem you a far-off voice to trace,
O friends of mine?
I leap across the bars of space;
The valley-paths with you I pace;
Where Faith through fiery woes untold
Once passed, but came forth pure as gold:
God grant to us such conquering grace,
O friends of mine!

54

XXXVIII. WHEN NATURE DROOPS;

OR, The Robin and the Golden-Crested Wren.

When Nature droops and flowers are dead
And all the birds are dumb or fled,
There flits about a crimson breast,
There flashes forth a fiery crest,
And through dim groves a light is spread.
And why is seen that mystic red?
Why sits the fire upon that head?
Why golden crown and ruddy vest,
When Nature droops?
The soul that oft with tears was fed,
And through rough ways of darkness led,
Beneath the Crimson Tree finds rest,
With fire from Heaven is warmed and blest,
And feels that Grace a glow can shed
When Nature droops.

55

XXXIX. WHEN NATURE WAKES;

OR, Snowdrops.

When Nature wakes, in Winter's spite,
Beneath her winding-sheet of white,
She starts up from her chilling bier
In haste to welcome the New Year
With Earth's first flowers, a token bright.
Truly a garland of delight
Are snowdrops, bursting from the night
Of Winter's gloom, sad hearts to cheer,
When Nature wakes.
In groups they shine, and charm the sight,
Where sheltered garden-nooks invite;
And from their silver bells you hear
Faint echoes of the summons clear
Which stirs all earth, in depth and height,
When Nature wakes.

56

XL. SWEETNESS AND STRENGTH.

Sweetness and strength in Thee I find,
Thou Lord and Lover of mankind—
Sweetness the weary soul to ease,
Like voice of birds or murmuring bees,
Or sylvan music undefined:
Might to uphold the trembling mind,
A Rock that breasts the wave and wind;
A Rose that scents the Evening breeze—
Sweetness and strength.
Lord, as I sail Life's wintry seas,
Or sit beneath its Summer trees,
Give me a will serene, resigned,
With force and fortitude combined:
I beg of Thee, on bended knees,
Sweetness and strength.

57

XLI. “BE OF GOOD CHEER.”

Be of good cheer”—though waves run high,
And midnight darkness veils the sky;
Although the wind roars in their ear,
And every heart is bowed with fear,
While death itself seems hovering nigh.
What sudden glory fills their eye?
What gracious Form do they descry?
What soothing voice is that they hear—
“Be of good cheer”?
O sweet and glorious “It is I!”
Still able, when we sink or sigh,
Our sorrow-clouded sky to clear,
And make our doubts to disappear,
Bidding us, when for help we cry,
“Be of good cheer.”
 

Matt. xiv. 27.


58

XLII. ON THE RECENT DISCOVERY OF AN ANGLO-SAXON BURYING-PLACE IN LONDESBOROUGH PARK.

A thousand years like waves have rolled
Across this bare and windy wold,
Since here were laid, in kindred clay,
Sad wanderers of a cheerless day,
Sheep that no Shepherd knew, or fold.
These amber beads, these daggers old,
And brooches, which no garments hold,
Have ne'er reflected one warm ray
A thousand years.
Lord, give me faith and love, I pray,
A quiet spirit's meek array,
Which still shall shine, like wreathèd gold,
Or precious stones of worth untold,
When o'er my dust have rolled away
A thousand years!

59

XLIII. WOODS O' DUNMORE.

Woods o' Dunmore, when Summer smiles,
'Tis joy to pace your solemn aisles,
Or sit beneath the fluttering roof
Where Nature, with her warp and woof
Of shine and shade, the eye beguiles.
Tall fir-trees stretch their stately files,
The beech its tiers of foliage piles,
Ferns scatter gold in your behoof,
Woods o' Dunmore.
Let nothing enter that defiles—
The wild dove only weaves its wiles,
Of peace the vocal pledge and proof:
Nor holds the Heavenly Dove aloof,
But sings sweet songs in you at whiles,
Woods o' Dunmore.

60

XLIV. ON MY HIGHLAND HARE.

Without a care, and fondly prest
Upon my circling arm or breast,
Peace beaming from its half-shut eye—
No trouble known, no danger nigh—
My gentle favourite sinks to rest.
Ah, on its native mountain crest,
Could it have found a nook or nest,
Where it might hear the storm rush by,
Without a care?
Against our will we may be blest:
Let me not shrink or be distrest
If cloud of change o'erspread my sky;
It is God's shadowing Hand, and I
Will let Love choose what Love deems best,
Without a care.

61

XLV. EAST WIND IN JUNE.

East Wind in June, and clouded sky,
And ruffled leaves that mourn and sigh,
And flutter down, alas! too soon;
What discord for a Summer noon,
Troubling the sylvan harmony.
When love demands a smile, may I
Refuse not timely sympathy,
Or bring, for friendship's genial boon,
East Wind in June.
In yonder peaceful fields on high,
Yon bowers of Paradise, which lie
Beyond the “glimpses of the moon,”
No breath shall reach us out of tune,
But lapt in bliss we shall defy
East Wind in June.

62

XLVI. MY SPECTACLES.

My Spectacles!” I said, and sighed,
To find how wholly I relied
On crystal aids to clear the page—
New token of on-creeping age,
To be well noted, not denied.
Let not the young folk in their pride
These crutches of the eyes deride,
Or drive with laughter from the stage—
My spectacles.
Not always will sweet youth abide;
Then let its hours, as swift they glide,
Make much of “old experience” sage—
Till, quitting this dim mortal cage
For keener sight, I lay aside
My spectacles.

63

XLVII. A CUP OF TEA,

Under the great waterfall, Glencripisdale, after a climb up Ben Yattan.

A cup of tea beside the Fall
Whose waters rush and whirl and brawl,
And madly flash, and wildly shine,
And make a dissonance divine,—
A cup of tea is worth them all!
For Nature's glories needs must pall,
And on a jaded fancy call,
Unless I duly claim as mine
A cup of tea.
Then thanks be to those fingers fine
That set about the fair design
To drown the weary water's drawl
With steaming streams that never “stall;”
Better than water or than wine
A cup of tea!

64

XLVIII. THE SOOTHING LYRE.

The soothing lyre a maiden sought,
To ease her heart with sorrow fraught;
And found in music soft and low
A gentle balm to heal the blow,
And mildly set its power at nought.
Amid the strings her ear has caught
A strain from holier regions brought,
Which helps, and hallows with its flow,
The soothing lyre.
Grace through the trembling strings has wrought,
Grace that our peace so dearly bought,
And still delights to cheer our woe
With thrills that make the spirit glow,
And link to elevating thought
The soothing lyre.

65

XLIX. SOWING.

Not all in vain good seed I sow
As up and down the world I go,
Scattering in faith the precious grain,
And waiting till the sun and rain
Of Heavenly influence bid it grow.
In fields where quiet waters flow,
On wolds where freshening breezes blow,
My days have passed—on hill and plain—
Not all in vain.
For as in earth the seed I throw,
'Tis mixed with ceaseless prayer, and though
Much ne'er may see the light again,
Some fruit of labour will remain,
And bending ears shall whisper low,
“Not all in vain.”

66

L. ANOTHER YEAR.

Another year has passed away
With ceaseless flight of day by day;
Now lightly winged with happy cheer,
Now drooping with regret and fear,
Now sadly dim, now gladly gay.
Up the swift stream in thought I stray,
And on its marge a moment stay,
Then leave, with praises in God's ear,
Another year.
Onward once more I plod my way,
And as the New Year looms, I pray—
Lord, only let Thy will be clear,
Thy Truth be loved, Thy Presence near,
Peace will be with me, come what may,
Another year.