Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular :: :: University of Virginia Library

So many years are gone since last I saw thee,
And I, alas! so young
When that black hour its shadow o'er me flung,
That but with feeble tints,
Vague strokes, half lights, time-troubled tints,
E'en to the inner eye my heart can draw thee.
Yet sometime memory wakes,—
O! not in night, or sadness, but when dawn
Slopes all her silver o'er the dewy lawn,
Or golden day dimples on mountain-lakes,
Or evening's wild-dove tolls her brooding strain,—
Then I remember me of what thou wast,
And see thee once again.

Though denizen'd so long in far-off bowers
And in another air,
Her form I know 'mong all the blest ones there.
Before toward me she turns,
My gazing heart within me burns,
And a new rose-flush flames through all the flowers.
I know the step, the dress,
The grace around her way like sunbeams shed;
The worshipp'd hand, on my then-golden head

143

Laid with the touch of utter gentleness;
The hair—but O! no more what it had been,
Silver'd with pain, not age—but fair as once
In youth, by me unseen.

'Mong all the bright ones there is none such other!
Clear through that myriad throng
Like some sweet subtle scent I catch her song:—
O by whatever name
Now named, thy child, my part I claim;
My soul goes forth to thee: I call thee, Mother!
Smile the low serious smile
Which animated youth to highest aims:
Lay thy soft hand upon the fever flames
That manhood's brain to foolishness beguile:
Hold me once more upon the faithful breast:
Kiss my life-wearied eyelids, say, My Child!
And then I shall find rest.

As when a dove from her soft flight alighting
More softly glides along,
Her feet float by me mid the rose-crown'd throng;
With eyes as if of one
Who sees, and sees not, and is gone
Where other eyes allure, and hands inviting.
—Hast thou no word for me?
None for me, Mother, never needing more
The wisdom needless on the golden floor,

144

The counsels of thy bright sobriety?
—Or, musing on the man that once was child,
Canst not endure to look on all this change;
So fair,—now so defiled?

Mid all the white-robed flock of God, that slowly
Stream up the heavenly ways,
I see the star above her forehead blaze
When she bends back, (as they
Who, turning from their height, survey
Some low dim spire to far remembrance holy);
And, flash'd from breast to breast,
A voice rings clear, as when, knee press'd on knee
And face on face, her whisper'd words to me
Were as the words of God;—and this unrest
Of later years through all the nerves is still'd,
Like some stream-tortured pool, that calms at once
With level crystal fill'd.

Then she: ‘When once we reach the great releasing,
‘Not only are we freed
‘From all that clogs the soul, all earthly greed;
‘But also pain and fear
‘Leave the transnatured spirit clear,
‘And hope, in her fulfilment, finds her ceasing.
‘Whilst here I watch their way
‘Whose life, in life, was more to me than life,
‘The chaunt of peace streams from the heart of strife;

145

‘And all that seems but wrong and disarray
‘Is harmonized to beauty and to good;
‘All thou deem'st pain and ill, in God's high scheme
‘Is love misunderstood.

‘Poor human souls, each in its earth-framed prison,
‘The separate fleshly cell,
‘That meet, but cannot touch, whilst there they dwell!
‘Here I, my child, with you
‘Have real oneness, union true;
‘Eyes never dimm'd by tears, and stainless vision.
‘Love, by the central Throne,
‘Before time was, for this took up his seat,
‘That heart in heart, and soul in soul, should beat,
‘That One should be in All, and All in One:
—‘So here I bide among the rose-crown'd throng
‘Waiting Love's day, and mine, and thine, and thee:
‘For it will not be long.’

I heard: and face to face she seem'd before me,
And moved her hand toward mine.
And I: 'Tis so! now let me take the sign;
With tears and kisses hold
The slender fingers kiss'd of old;—
But silent, flowerlike, she leant back, and o'er me
Her hand, as blessing, held;
And aweful love was on her eyelids spread,
And the pure pearly star, that crown'd her head,

146

Flash'd sudden rose: and my wild heart was quell'd.
And now she turn'd: and, in her turning, Love
Was heard;—Then bent her steps through Heaven;—for she
Knows all the ways thereof.

Go, Song! poor satisfaction of large debt
Which that fair Saint on me for life has bound:
And if the wise thy reason seek,
Say, Thou hast been long sought, and lately found;
My blame, if far below her excellence;—
The spirit is willing, but the tongue is weak.