 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
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THE STORM.
The storm was wild as wrath,—
And like giant on his path
Swept the wind!
There 's a sound, like sorrow's moan,
When its last, fond hope has flown,
And the mind,
That to strive with Fate is fain,
Feels its efforts are in vain.
And like giant on his path
Swept the wind!
There 's a sound, like sorrow's moan,
When its last, fond hope has flown,
And the mind,
That to strive with Fate is fain,
Feels its efforts are in vain.
The Storm is on the sea,
And, rising fearfully
O'er the blast,
Comes the wildly piercing shriek!
Its wail no words can speak—
'T is the last!—
And ocean's pall is spread,
And the deep receives the dead!
And, rising fearfully
O'er the blast,
Comes the wildly piercing shriek!
Its wail no words can speak—
'T is the last!—
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And the deep receives the dead!
Oh! thousands thus have died,
In their beauty and their pride,
Like the flowers
By the whirlwind's might uptorn;—
How many hearts, forlorn,
Count the hours
Till the missing shall return,
Or hope's star shall cease to burn!
In their beauty and their pride,
Like the flowers
By the whirlwind's might uptorn;—
How many hearts, forlorn,
Count the hours
Till the missing shall return,
Or hope's star shall cease to burn!
Such hearts the history hear,—
Though no language meet the ear—
Of the lost,—
A picture of the sea,
Or a tone of minstrelsy,
Like a frost
O'er their spring-sown fancies steals,
And Death's upas vale reveals.
Though no language meet the ear—
Of the lost,—
A picture of the sea,
Or a tone of minstrelsy,
Like a frost
O'er their spring-sown fancies steals,
And Death's upas vale reveals.
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'T is the pledge of sorrow's dower,
That it gives the spirit power
To discern,
Like the angel in the sun,
When the ruin has begun—
But to learn
That the poison-drop is sure
Will ne'er teach us to endure.
That it gives the spirit power
To discern,
Like the angel in the sun,
When the ruin has begun—
But to learn
That the poison-drop is sure
Will ne'er teach us to endure.
Like a mountain robed in clouds
Is the heart that fear enshrouds,
While hope clings
As the verdure to the rocks,
As the rainbow tint that mocks
While it flings
Its soft and cheering beams,
That must pass away like dreams.
Is the heart that fear enshrouds,
While hope clings
As the verdure to the rocks,
As the rainbow tint that mocks
While it flings
Its soft and cheering beams,
That must pass away like dreams.
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As a mountain lone and bleak,
With its sky-encompassed peak
Thunder riven,
Still lifts its forehead bare,
Through the cold and blighting air,
Up to heaven,
Is the soul that knows its wo,
And is nerved to bear the blow.
With its sky-encompassed peak
Thunder riven,
Still lifts its forehead bare,
Through the cold and blighting air,
Up to heaven,
Is the soul that knows its wo,
And is nerved to bear the blow.
And if sad forebodings press,
And earth's star of happiness
Has withdrawn,
Never sink in hopeless gloom—
Through the clouds, beyond the tomb,
See the dawn;
And all storms will pass away,
In that world of perfect day!
And earth's star of happiness
Has withdrawn,
Never sink in hopeless gloom—
Through the clouds, beyond the tomb,
See the dawn;
And all storms will pass away,
In that world of perfect day!
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |