 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
194
TOO LATE.
Have you seen a being fair
With sad eyes and golden hair,
And a more than mortal grace
Shining through her pale sweet face?
With sad eyes and golden hair,
And a more than mortal grace
Shining through her pale sweet face?
Have you seen her whom I seek?
Hers is beauty pure and meek,
Such as charms our wildered eyes
In our dreams of Paradise.
Hers is beauty pure and meek,
Such as charms our wildered eyes
In our dreams of Paradise.
Rarest diamonds always shine
In the deepest, darkest mine,
Fairest blossoms have their birth
On the dreariest wastes of earth,—
In the deepest, darkest mine,
Fairest blossoms have their birth
On the dreariest wastes of earth,—
Thus the angel-presence sweet
Sent to guide my wayward feet,
Was to me, in love and light,
As the star is to the night.
Sent to guide my wayward feet,
Was to me, in love and light,
As the star is to the night.
195
But as darkness hides from light,
As from day retreats the night,
So, with scornful heart the while,
Fled I from her loving smile.
As from day retreats the night,
So, with scornful heart the while,
Fled I from her loving smile.
She was fair—ay, very fair,—
Goldenly her shining hair
Round the pure white brow below
Fell, like sunlight over snow,—
Goldenly her shining hair
Round the pure white brow below
Fell, like sunlight over snow,—
Or like that soft glow that lies
Sometimes in the sunset skies,
Or the glory artists paint
Round the forehead of a saint.
Sometimes in the sunset skies,
Or the glory artists paint
Round the forehead of a saint.
Not the summer heaven's clear blue,
Not the violet's tender hue,
Nor the gloom of midnight skies
Can describe her glorious eyes.
Not the violet's tender hue,
Nor the gloom of midnight skies
Can describe her glorious eyes.
When the twilight solemnly
Walks along the dreaming sea,
On its breast a shadow lies
Tinted like those haunting eyes.
Walks along the dreaming sea,
On its breast a shadow lies
Tinted like those haunting eyes.
Yet I loved her not; my soul
Scorned to own her sweet control,
And I fled o'er land and sea,
Only that she followed me!
Scorned to own her sweet control,
And I fled o'er land and sea,
Only that she followed me!
196
Over ocean's heaving tides,
Over craggy mountain sides,
Over many a barren waste
That no human foot had traced,—
Over craggy mountain sides,
Over many a barren waste
That no human foot had traced,—
Wandered I, to hide away
From her soft and holy sway,
Fearing but the loving smile
In her pleading eyes the while.
From her soft and holy sway,
Fearing but the loving smile
In her pleading eyes the while.
My hard heart, unknowing then,
Angels walk on earth with men,
Hated her, and bitterly,
Only that she cared for me!
Angels walk on earth with men,
Hated her, and bitterly,
Only that she cared for me!
And I shunned her all above,
Only that she sought my love;
Blind, blind eyes, which could not trace
“Angel” in that pure sweet face!
Only that she sought my love;
Blind, blind eyes, which could not trace
“Angel” in that pure sweet face!
Every morning as I went
Through the doorway of my tent,
She went sadly on the way
I had trodden yesterday.
Through the doorway of my tent,
She went sadly on the way
I had trodden yesterday.
One bright morn, as I uprose
From my dream-disturbed repose,
Every breeze the whisper bore
“Go! I follow thee no more!”
From my dream-disturbed repose,
Every breeze the whisper bore
“Go! I follow thee no more!”
197
And a keen remorseful dart
Pierced and rent my startled heart,
And across the weary waste
Wildly did my footsteps haste,
Pierced and rent my startled heart,
And across the weary waste
Wildly did my footsteps haste,
Searching where her tender feet
Torn by ragged thorns, had beat,
And her stainéd footprints lay
Mute rebukes, along the way;—
Torn by ragged thorns, had beat,
And her stainéd footprints lay
Mute rebukes, along the way;—
To the place where grief-oppressed,
Weary of her thankless quest,
She, the slighted one, was found
Fainting, dying, on the ground.
Weary of her thankless quest,
She, the slighted one, was found
Fainting, dying, on the ground.
“Thou hast come too late,” she said,
As I raised her drooping head,—
With a flash of bright surprise
Breaking from her misty eyes.
As I raised her drooping head,—
With a flash of bright surprise
Breaking from her misty eyes.
“Wayward one, I need not tell
I have sought thee long and well,
Thy stern will and stubborn heart
Bade us live and die apart!
I have sought thee long and well,
Thy stern will and stubborn heart
Bade us live and die apart!
“Fare thee well! I go before,—
I shall follow thee no more!
This shall thy life's penance be,—
Henceforth thou shalt seek for me!
I shall follow thee no more!
This shall thy life's penance be,—
Henceforth thou shalt seek for me!
198
“Drain the cup of grief and tears
Which my lips have pressed for years;
If it seemeth bitter, think
‘Even such I bade her drink!’”
Which my lips have pressed for years;
If it seemeth bitter, think
‘Even such I bade her drink!’”
Cried I, kneeling,—“Angel, stay!
Pass not from my tears away!
Grant me pardon for the wrong
Thou hast meekly borne so long!
Pass not from my tears away!
Grant me pardon for the wrong
Thou hast meekly borne so long!
“Let my life atonement be—
Henceforth let me live for thee!
Let my love, through coming time,
Wipe away my darkening crime!”
Henceforth let me live for thee!
Let my love, through coming time,
Wipe away my darkening crime!”
Gone!—and raised in sad surprise,
Did not my dim-seeing eyes
Catch the shining of her hair
Fading in the upper air?
Did not my dim-seeing eyes
Catch the shining of her hair
Fading in the upper air?
Henceforth in a fruitless quest,
Tortured by a wild unrest,
Like a pilgrim old and blind
Seek I what I may not find.
Tortured by a wild unrest,
Like a pilgrim old and blind
Seek I what I may not find.
Often, as I pass along,
Ask I of the busy throng,
“Has an angel passed this way?”
And they answer, smiling,—“Nay!”
Ask I of the busy throng,
“Has an angel passed this way?”
And they answer, smiling,—“Nay!”
199
But with sad and tearful eyes
Looking upward to the skies,
See I yet her shining hair
Mingling with the upper air.
Looking upward to the skies,
See I yet her shining hair
Mingling with the upper air.
And when life's long search is o'er
I shall meet her yet once more,
With a thrill of glad surprise
Breaking from her glorious eyes!
I shall meet her yet once more,
With a thrill of glad surprise
Breaking from her glorious eyes!
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |