The Vision of Prophecy and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The day its course appointed calmly holds,—
Morn wears to noon, and noon to starry night,
And, as a fruitful seed, each dawn unfolds,
In fair succession, all the hours of light.

The river glideth seawards,—ever full
From bank to bank, the abounding current sweeps;
And, fenced by quiet hills, the lonely pool
Clasps the same shadows in its crystal deeps.

The sprouting grain that flushes all the spring
Its future perfectness may surely know,
And wait serenely for its ripening
Through summer suns to autumn's golden glow.

Alas! that he for whom the sunlight shines,
And the sweet seasons all their wealth mature,
Can track his path by no unfailing signs,
Nor front the future with a glance secure.

220

His daybreak may not shine all round his sky,
No mellow fruitage crown his hopeful prime,—
Death, near the gate of Life, may ambushed lie,
And strike him in the middle-watch of time.

The river of his life a while expands,—
Trees fringe the banks, and fair winds crisp the tide,
But soon it wanders out through burning sands,
And night beholds it lost in deserts wide.

I followed once a streamlet up a dell,
Where birds were warbling in the early day,
And traced its waters to their parent-well,
Whereby there stood a dial mossed and grey.

“I only count Time's sunny hours,” —so meant
The antique legend quaintly carved above;
“Then count one now,” I cried, and stood content
In thoughtless mood to watch the shadow move.

Slowly it crept a while, but suddenly
Traversed the dial-plate with ominous haste;
One moment, and the sun yet climbed the sky,
The next, he sank far in the darkening west.

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The fountain, too, that rippled o'er the lips
Of its scooped basin, ceased at once to flow;
Its waters, struck with chill by that eclipse,
Ebbed, shrinking to their viewless springs below.

Then o'er my spirit, with an instant glance
Of light, shone forth the import of the sign;
A wind-like sound sighed through it as in trance,—
The accents of a voice not undivine:—

“Soon on thy path shall dreary shadows fall,
And the free air grow heavy to thy breath,
And all the springs of thought be dried, and all
Thy hopes lie trodden in the dust of death.

“But still the stars shall charm the evening-air,
And duly shall the dawn go up the east,
And nature's framework still be firm and fair,—
The Temple standing longer than the Priest.

“Yet mourn not that so soon thou must depart,
While nature changeless works in earth and sky;
No higher life is stirring in her heart,—
Thou hast a spirit that shall never die!

222

“Therefore thou hast no certain hold on time,
Because with an immortal being blest;
Thy soul is alien to this earthly clime,
And only in the Infinite can rest.

“Then break the cords that bind thee to the dust,
Lift up thy spirit to its high estate,
Put on thy shining robes, and tread in trust
The path that leadeth to the Heavenly Gate.

“If Life's light darken, through that higher sphere
Give thine ethereal hopes their radiant range;
And, fair through Death, those mansions shall appear
Where calm perfection triumphs over change!”

O surely much of Heaven was in that hour,—
And often to my heart will memory bring
Its vanished vision, with reviving power,—
The darkened Dial, and the dried-up Spring!

Non horas numero, nisi serenas.