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Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

Tuckerman, Frederick Goddard (1821-1873)
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PART I.
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PART II.
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Sonnets.
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PART 1.
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PART II.
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[I. That boy,”—the farmer said, with hazel wand]
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[II. Nor idle all, though naught he sees in thine]
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[III. Yes; though the brine may from the desert deep]
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[IV. But Grief finds solace faint in others' ills]
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[V. No shame dissuades his thought, no scorn despoils]
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[VI. No! cover not the fault. The wise revere]
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[VII. His heart was in his garden; but his brain]
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[VIII. Companions were we in the grove and glen]
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[IX. But unto him came swift calamity]
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[X. Thy baby, too, the child that was to be]
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[XI. Still pressing through these weeping solitudes]
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[XII. How most unworthy, echoing in mine ears]
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[XIII. Even as a lover, dreaming, unaware]
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[XIV. The breeze is sharp, the sky is hard and blue]
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[XV. Gertrude and Gulielma, sister-twins]
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[XVI. Under the mountain, as when first I knew]
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[XVII. Roll on, sad world! not Mercury or Mars]
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[XVIII. And Change, with hurried hand, has swept these scenes]
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[XIX. And faces, forms, and phantoms, numbered not]
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[XX. O hard endeavour, to blend in with these]
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[XXI. Last night I dreamed we parted once again]
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[XXII. Put off thy bark from shore, tho' near the night]
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[XXIII. Some truths may pierce the spirit's deeper gloom]
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[XXIV. Each common object, too,—the house, the grove]
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[XXV. Small gossip, whispering at the window-pane]
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[XXVI. Yet from indifference may we hope for peace]
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[XXVII. But the heart murmurs at so harsh a tone]
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[XXVIII. Yet sometimes, with the sad respectant mind]
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[XXIX. How oft in schoolboy-days, from the school's sway]
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[XXX Yet, even mid merry boyhood's tricks and scapes]
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[XXXI. My Anna ! when for thee my head was bowed]
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[XXXII. Oh for the face and footstep! woods and shores]
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[XXXIII. One still dark night, I sat alone and wrote]
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[XXXIV. My Anna! though thine earthly steps are done]
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[XXXV. Nor all of solemn is my thought of her]
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[XXXVI. Farewell! farewell, O noble heart! I dreamed]
  
[XXXVII. As Eponina brought, to move the king]

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[XX. Still craves the spirit: never Nature solves]

Still craves the spirit: never Nature solves
That yearning which with her first breath began;
And, in its blinder instinct, still devolves
On god or pagod, Manada or man,
Or, lower yet, brute-service, apes and wolves!
By Borneo's surf, the bare Barbarian
Still to the sands beneath him bows to pray:
Give Greek his god, the Bheel his devil-sway;
And what remains to me, who count no odds
Between such Lord and him I saw to-day,
The farmer mounted on his market-load,
Bundles of wool, and locks of upland hay;
The son of toil, that his own works bestrode,
And him, Ophion, earliest of the gods?
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