 | The poetical works of John Townsend Trowbridge |  |
167
AUNT HANNAH
She is known to all the town, in her quaintly fashioned gown,
And wide bonnet—you would guess it at the distance of a mile;
With her little sprigs of smilax, and her lavender and lilacs,
Snowy napkins and big basket, and serenely simple smile.
And wide bonnet—you would guess it at the distance of a mile;
With her little sprigs of smilax, and her lavender and lilacs,
Snowy napkins and big basket, and serenely simple smile.
She is just a little queer; and few gentlefolk, I fear,
In their drawing-rooms would welcome that benignant, beaming face;
And the truth is, old Aunt Hannah's rather antiquated manners
In some fashionable circles would seem sadly out of place.
In their drawing-rooms would welcome that benignant, beaming face;
And the truth is, old Aunt Hannah's rather antiquated manners
In some fashionable circles would seem sadly out of place.
Yet there 's something quite refined in her manners and her mind,
As you presently discover; and 't is well enough to know,
Everything that now so odd is in the bonnet and the bodice
Was the very height of fashion five-and-forty years ago.
As you presently discover; and 't is well enough to know,
Everything that now so odd is in the bonnet and the bodice
Was the very height of fashion five-and-forty years ago.
She was then a reigning belle; and I've heard old ladies tell
How at all the balls and parties Hannah Amsden took the lead:
Perfect bloom and maiden sweetness, lily grace of rare completeness,
Though the stalk stands rather stiffly now the flower has gone to seed.
How at all the balls and parties Hannah Amsden took the lead:
Perfect bloom and maiden sweetness, lily grace of rare completeness,
Though the stalk stands rather stiffly now the flower has gone to seed.
She had all that love could give, all that makes it sweet to live—
Fond caresses, jewels, dresses; and with eloquent appeal
Many a proud and rich adorer knelt—in metaphor—before her:
Metaphorically only does your modern lover kneel.
Fond caresses, jewels, dresses; and with eloquent appeal
Many a proud and rich adorer knelt—in metaphor—before her:
Metaphorically only does your modern lover kneel.
If she heeded, 't was because, in their worship, their applause,
Her perfection was reflected, and a pleasing music heard;
But she suffered them no nearer than her goldfinch or her mirror,
And she hardly held them dearer than her pier-glass or her bird.
Her perfection was reflected, and a pleasing music heard;
But she suffered them no nearer than her goldfinch or her mirror,
And she hardly held them dearer than her pier-glass or her bird.
But at last there came a day when she gave her heart away—
If that rightly be called giving which is neither choice nor will,
But a charm, a fascination, and a wild sweet exultation—
All the fresh young life outgoing in a strange ecstatic thrill.
If that rightly be called giving which is neither choice nor will,
But a charm, a fascination, and a wild sweet exultation—
All the fresh young life outgoing in a strange ecstatic thrill.
At a city ball, by chance, she first met his ardent glance.
He was neither young nor handsome, but a man of subtle parts,
With an eye of such expression as your lover by profession
Finds an excellent possession when he goes a-hunting hearts.
He was neither young nor handsome, but a man of subtle parts,
With an eye of such expression as your lover by profession
Finds an excellent possession when he goes a-hunting hearts.
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It could trouble, it could burn; and when first he chanced to turn
That fine glance on Hannah Amsden, it lit up with swift desire,
With a sudden dilatation, and a radiant admiration,
And shot down her soul's deep heaven like a meteor trailing fire.
That fine glance on Hannah Amsden, it lit up with swift desire,
With a sudden dilatation, and a radiant admiration,
And shot down her soul's deep heaven like a meteor trailing fire.
How was any one to know that those eyes had looked just so
On a hundred other women, with a gaze as bright and strange?
There are men who change their passions even oftener than their fashions,
And the best of loving always, to their mind, is still to change.
On a hundred other women, with a gaze as bright and strange?
There are men who change their passions even oftener than their fashions,
And the best of loving always, to their mind, is still to change.
Nay, it was not base deceit: his own conquest seemed complete.
They were soon affianced lovers; and her opening life was filled
With the flush of flame-lit fancies, morning's rosy-hued romances,
All the dews of hope and rapture love's delicious dawn distilled.
They were soon affianced lovers; and her opening life was filled
With the flush of flame-lit fancies, morning's rosy-hued romances,
All the dews of hope and rapture love's delicious dawn distilled.
Home the country maiden went; and a busy summer spent
All in bridal preparations, blissful troubles, happy woes;
Fitting dresses, filling presses, little crosses and distresses—
Those preliminary prickles to the hymeneal rose.
All in bridal preparations, blissful troubles, happy woes;
Fitting dresses, filling presses, little crosses and distresses—
Those preliminary prickles to the hymeneal rose.
Never, since the world began, course of true love smoother ran;
Not an eddy of dissension, nor the ripple of a doubt.
All the neighbors and relations came with kind congratulations,
And a hundred invitations to the wedding-feast went out.
Not an eddy of dissension, nor the ripple of a doubt.
All the neighbors and relations came with kind congratulations,
And a hundred invitations to the wedding-feast went out.
All the preparations thrived, and the wedding-day arrived:
Pleased but pensive moved the mother; and the father, with a smile
Broad and genial as the summer, gave a welcome to each comer:
All things turned on golden hinges, all went merry, for a while.
Pleased but pensive moved the mother; and the father, with a smile
Broad and genial as the summer, gave a welcome to each comer:
All things turned on golden hinges, all went merry, for a while.
And the lovely bride, arrayed all in laces and brocade,
Orange blossoms in her tresses (strange as now the story seems),
Quite enchanting and enchanted, in her chamber blushed and panted,
And but one thing now was wanted to fulfil her darling dreams.
Orange blossoms in her tresses (strange as now the story seems),
Quite enchanting and enchanted, in her chamber blushed and panted,
And but one thing now was wanted to fulfil her darling dreams.
For the clergyman was there, to unite the happy pair,
And the guests were all assembled, and the company sat dumb;
And the banquet was belated, and the maid was still unmated,
And the wedding waited, waited, for a coach that did not come.
And the guests were all assembled, and the company sat dumb;
And the banquet was belated, and the maid was still unmated,
And the wedding waited, waited, for a coach that did not come.
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Then a few began to sneer, and a horror and a fear
Fell on friends and anxious parents; and the bride with cheek aflame,
All too rudely disenchanted, in her chamber paced and panted;
And the one thing still was wanted; and the one thing never came.
Fell on friends and anxious parents; and the bride with cheek aflame,
All too rudely disenchanted, in her chamber paced and panted;
And the one thing still was wanted; and the one thing never came.
Glassy smiles and feeble chat—then the parson took his hat,
And the wedding guests departed, glad to breathe the outer air;
Till the last farewell was taken, kind word offered, kind hand shaken;
And the great house stood forsaken in its shame and its despair.
And the wedding guests departed, glad to breathe the outer air;
Till the last farewell was taken, kind word offered, kind hand shaken;
And the great house stood forsaken in its shame and its despair.
With a firmness justified less by hope, perhaps, than pride,
All her misery, all their pity, Hannah bore without complaint;
Till her hasting mother met her, pale and breathless, with a letter,
And she saw the superscription, and shrieked “Frederick!” and grew faint.
All her misery, all their pity, Hannah bore without complaint;
Till her hasting mother met her, pale and breathless, with a letter,
And she saw the superscription, and shrieked “Frederick!” and grew faint.
With quick hand the seal she broke, and she neither breathed nor spoke,
But a sudden ashy paleness all her fair face overspread;
And a terror seemed to hold her, and her cheek grew cold and colder,
And her icy fingers rattled in the paper as she read.
But a sudden ashy paleness all her fair face overspread;
And a terror seemed to hold her, and her cheek grew cold and colder,
And her icy fingers rattled in the paper as she read.
In her chamber once alone, on the floor she lay like stone,
With her bridal gear about her—all that idle, fine array;
And the white moon, white and holy, to her chamber bar climbed slowly,
And looked in upon the lowly, wretched lady where she lay.
With her bridal gear about her—all that idle, fine array;
And the white moon, white and holy, to her chamber bar climbed slowly,
And looked in upon the lowly, wretched lady where she lay.
Why the letter was delayed, what the poor excuse he made,
Mattered little there to Hannah lying on the moonlit floor.
'T was his heart that had miscarried; for some new toy he had tarried:
In a fortnight he was married, and she never saw him more.
Mattered little there to Hannah lying on the moonlit floor.
'T was his heart that had miscarried; for some new toy he had tarried:
In a fortnight he was married, and she never saw him more.
Came the glorious autumn days—golden hills, cerulean haze—
And still Hannah kept her chamber with her shame and her despair;
All the neighbors and relations came and offered consolations,
And the preacher preached up patience, and remembered her in prayer.
And still Hannah kept her chamber with her shame and her despair;
All the neighbors and relations came and offered consolations,
And the preacher preached up patience, and remembered her in prayer.
Spite of all that they could say, Hannah Amsden pined away.
Came the dull days of November, came the winter, wild and white:
Lonely, listless, hours together she would sit and watch the weather,
Or the cold bright constellations pulsing in the pallid night.
Came the dull days of November, came the winter, wild and white:
Lonely, listless, hours together she would sit and watch the weather,
Or the cold bright constellations pulsing in the pallid night.
170
For a twelvemonth and a day so poor Hannah pined away.
Came once more the fatal morning, came the dread hours that had been:
All the anguish she lived over, waiting, wailing for her lover.
Then the new dawn shone about her, and a sweeter dawn within.
Came once more the fatal morning, came the dread hours that had been:
All the anguish she lived over, waiting, wailing for her lover.
Then the new dawn shone about her, and a sweeter dawn within.
All her soul bleached white and pure, taught by suffering to endure,
Taught by sorrow to know sorrow, and to bind the bleeding heart,
Now a pale and placid sister in the world that lately missed her—
Sweetly pale where Peace had kissed her—patient Hannah chose her part.
Taught by sorrow to know sorrow, and to bind the bleeding heart,
Now a pale and placid sister in the world that lately missed her—
Sweetly pale where Peace had kissed her—patient Hannah chose her part.
To do good was her delight, all her study day and night;
And around her, like a fragrance in the halo round a saint,
Breathed the holy exhalation of her life and occupation.
But the rising generation soon began to call her quaint.
And around her, like a fragrance in the halo round a saint,
Breathed the holy exhalation of her life and occupation.
But the rising generation soon began to call her quaint.
For her self-forgetfulness even extended to her dress;
Milliner and mantua-maker never crossed her threshold more;
But the bodice, and the bonnet with the wondrous bow upon it,
Kept their never-changing fashion of the faded years before.
Milliner and mantua-maker never crossed her threshold more;
But the bodice, and the bonnet with the wondrous bow upon it,
Kept their never-changing fashion of the faded years before.
So she still goes up and down on her errands through the town;
And sometimes a school-girl titters, or an urchin stops to grin,
Or a village cur barks at her; but to her 't is little matter—
You may fleer or you may flatter—such deep peace her soul is in.
And sometimes a school-girl titters, or an urchin stops to grin,
Or a village cur barks at her; but to her 't is little matter—
You may fleer or you may flatter—such deep peace her soul is in.
Among all the sick and poor there is nobody so sure
Of a welcome and a blessing; and who sees her once appear,
Coming round some poor man's trellis with her dainty pots of jellies,
Or big basket brimmed with bounty, soon forgets that she is queer.
Of a welcome and a blessing; and who sees her once appear,
Coming round some poor man's trellis with her dainty pots of jellies,
Or big basket brimmed with bounty, soon forgets that she is queer.
For her pleasant words, addressed to the needy and distressed,
Are so touching and so tender, full of sympathy and cheer,
By the time your smile is ready for the simple, dear old lady,
It is pretty sure to tremble in the balance with a tear.
Are so touching and so tender, full of sympathy and cheer,
By the time your smile is ready for the simple, dear old lady,
It is pretty sure to tremble in the balance with a tear.
| The poetical works of John Townsend Trowbridge | |