 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
JUVAT REMINISCI
It is not all I can forget,
Though dark and waste my spirits be,
And earthly hopes that linger yet,
Shine cold as watch-lights on the sea.
Though dark and waste my spirits be,
And earthly hopes that linger yet,
Shine cold as watch-lights on the sea.
So far from all that hath been dear,
So much from others' love estranged,
While year hath followed after year,
My heart at length might well be changed.
So much from others' love estranged,
While year hath followed after year,
My heart at length might well be changed.
Yet earth must lay a chilling touch
Upon affection's sunny flow,
Ere every stream we prized so much,
The music of its path forego.
Upon affection's sunny flow,
Ere every stream we prized so much,
The music of its path forego.
The soul may weep o'er its repose
When all its stir of love is o'er;
The tears it gave to others' woes
Shall darkly now its own deplore.
When all its stir of love is o'er;
The tears it gave to others' woes
Shall darkly now its own deplore.
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Yet oft our hearts from all they meet
In sadness and in sickness turn;
And feel that it is far more sweet,
Over their buried joys to mourn.
In sadness and in sickness turn;
And feel that it is far more sweet,
Over their buried joys to mourn.
Then thoughts of those we warmly loved,
And who perchance did love as well,
Though long, alas, and far removed,
Like blessings on our spirits dwell.
And who perchance did love as well,
Though long, alas, and far removed,
Like blessings on our spirits dwell.
They wake to life the little joys,
Which leave us lonely when they die;
And hopes, the best that time destroys,
Call from the ruins where they lie.
Which leave us lonely when they die;
And hopes, the best that time destroys,
Call from the ruins where they lie.
Though underground our dear ones sleep,
We'll think as fondly on the dead,
And in our darker sorrows weep
Such tears as mirth might sigh to shed.
We'll think as fondly on the dead,
And in our darker sorrows weep
Such tears as mirth might sigh to shed.
Though I may roam through pleasure's bowers,
And talk and smile as others do,
My soul shall keep its better hours,
Past years, remembered loves, for you.
And talk and smile as others do,
My soul shall keep its better hours,
Past years, remembered loves, for you.
New England Weekly Review April 13, 1829
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |