 | Hagar |  |
MUSINGS.
Ye are absent, loved companions! I sit musing here alone:
Pleasantly the sunshine beameth on the scene I gaze upon—
Fair the scene; its quiet beauty oft together we have known.
Pleasantly the sunshine beameth on the scene I gaze upon—
Fair the scene; its quiet beauty oft together we have known.
Lovingly the breeze of summer waves the elm tree's topmost bough—
Stealing through the open casement, gently fans it, cheek and brow;
But the room seems sad and lonely, for my thoughts are with you now.
Stealing through the open casement, gently fans it, cheek and brow;
But the room seems sad and lonely, for my thoughts are with you now.
I sit listening to the voices,—joyous voices, full of glee;
Or, anon, with feeling deepened, laughter ringing merrily
Through the silence,—waters gushing from a fountain pure and free.
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Through the silence,—waters gushing from a fountain pure and free.
I can see each face familiar,—listen to each varying tone;
O, I knew not how I loved you, till I felt that ye were gone—
Knew not all that ye were to me, till I found myself alone.
O, I knew not how I loved you, till I felt that ye were gone—
Knew not all that ye were to me, till I found myself alone.
Would the power were mine to limn you, as ye now before me rise—
Brows of sunlight, hearts the warmest, looking out from soul-lit eyes;
Landscape fairest should be lying 'neath the glow of evening skies.
Brows of sunlight, hearts the warmest, looking out from soul-lit eyes;
Landscape fairest should be lying 'neath the glow of evening skies.
With the lingering sunbeams flickering through the branches, lovingly
Resting on you—I would place you 'neath the shade of some old tree
On the hill-side, where were flowers, and the wandering breeze roved free.
Resting on you—I would place you 'neath the shade of some old tree
On the hill-side, where were flowers, and the wandering breeze roved free.
Queenliest of the band, Elnora, should be seated on a throne,
Reading “Shakspeare” to the others, in an “a la Kemble” tone—
All the magic of her beauty, and her queenly presence own.
Reading “Shakspeare” to the others, in an “a la Kemble” tone—
All the magic of her beauty, and her queenly presence own.
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Throned upon that brow so regal, power and might of mind are there;
And her dark eye flashes keenly, when the Author's thought so rare
Meets her own thought; how they sparkle 'neath the forehead pure and fair!
And her dark eye flashes keenly, when the Author's thought so rare
Meets her own thought; how they sparkle 'neath the forehead pure and fair!
They may call her proud and haughty, but they do not know her well:
Nature formed her tall and queenly—should she cast away the spell
Which has lifted her above them, and with common natures dwell?
Nature formed her tall and queenly—should she cast away the spell
Which has lifted her above them, and with common natures dwell?
True, it is a land of freedom; she may never mount the throne,
Nor may wield the royal scepter, save o'er loving hearts alone;
Yet our queen, best loved Elnora! we, thy faithful subjects, own.
Nor may wield the royal scepter, save o'er loving hearts alone;
Yet our queen, best loved Elnora! we, thy faithful subjects, own.
Nina should be seated lower, on the mossy turf beside,
Gazing on the fires of sunset which are burning far and wide,
Filled with rapture, yet in silence striving all her joy to hide.
Gazing on the fires of sunset which are burning far and wide,
Filled with rapture, yet in silence striving all her joy to hide.
She would scorn to give expression to the feelings which may thrill
All her soul with joy the wildest,—then, if woe life's chalice fill,
Would she drink it proudly, bravely,—would she suffer, and be still?
All her soul with joy the wildest,—then, if woe life's chalice fill,
Would she drink it proudly, bravely,—would she suffer, and be still?
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Lightly fall the dark brown tresses round her sweet and winsome face:
Of the power to win hearts to her, one perchance may find some trace
In the soft brown eyes of hazel, and her smile of winning grace.
Of the power to win hearts to her, one perchance may find some trace
In the soft brown eyes of hazel, and her smile of winning grace.
But to love her, one must know her, watch her hourly day by day,
Feel the warmth of glorious sunshine which she sheds around the way
Of the hearts that need her kindness—kindness they may ne'er repay.
Feel the warmth of glorious sunshine which she sheds around the way
Of the hearts that need her kindness—kindness they may ne'er repay.
Blessings be upon thee, Nina; may thy life-stream joyous be,—
Thine the love of hearts the truest—ever choicest dower to thee,
Loving and belov'd, float gently down the river to the sea.
Thine the love of hearts the truest—ever choicest dower to thee,
Loving and belov'd, float gently down the river to the sea.
Near Elnora's throne, who standeth upright as the elm tree's bole?
Best of friends thou art, dear Mabel! kindred hearts have found their goal,
When at length they learn to fathom all the grandeur of thy soul.
Best of friends thou art, dear Mabel! kindred hearts have found their goal,
When at length they learn to fathom all the grandeur of thy soul.
Smoothly parted on thy forehead is each sunny tress of hair,
And the blue eye, mild, yet fearless, looketh out so bravely there;
Though she moves no queenly beauty, yet to me she seems most fair.
And the blue eye, mild, yet fearless, looketh out so bravely there;
Though she moves no queenly beauty, yet to me she seems most fair.
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Beautiful the soul she owneth,—beautiful the soul that lies
Shrined within her noble bosom, closely veiled from worldly eyes,—
Soul of truth! how high and lofty over falsehood dost thou rise!
Shrined within her noble bosom, closely veiled from worldly eyes,—
Soul of truth! how high and lofty over falsehood dost thou rise!
Best of friends! I hear thee saying, “Do not praise me, friend of mine,
If thou lovest me well and truly,—love to me seems so divine,
That it cannot praise the loved one; oh, then do not give me thine!”
If thou lovest me well and truly,—love to me seems so divine,
That it cannot praise the loved one; oh, then do not give me thine!”
Love thee? yes; and oh, if wishes were not bubbles on the wave,
I would wish that we together might pass onward to the grave,
And our spirits still united, in the Fount Eternal lave.
I would wish that we together might pass onward to the grave,
And our spirits still united, in the Fount Eternal lave.
“Where is Dora? where?” How often this the well-known cry hath been,
When our hearts beat high with bright hopes, eager for the festive scene,
Or a walk through leafy forest, 'neath a summer sky serene!
When our hearts beat high with bright hopes, eager for the festive scene,
Or a walk through leafy forest, 'neath a summer sky serene!
Then the answer, still unchanging, “Dora will not go to-day:
She is sitting in her lone room, fond of solitude they say,—
Come, she will not go; 'tis needless thus the others to delay.”
She is sitting in her lone room, fond of solitude they say,—
Come, she will not go; 'tis needless thus the others to delay.”
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But apart I see thee standing now, half hidden by the tree.
There! a sunbeam through the leaflets stealeth down and rests on thee,—
Pleading eyes of blue seem asking, “I love you; do you love me?”
There! a sunbeam through the leaflets stealeth down and rests on thee,—
Pleading eyes of blue seem asking, “I love you; do you love me?”
Eyes of blue the dark fringe shadeth—gentle, timid eyes of blue!
Watch them closely, in their calm depths ye may see their owner too,
Something of her outward semblance—not the inner life ye view.
Watch them closely, in their calm depths ye may see their owner too,
Something of her outward semblance—not the inner life ye view.
Gentle, loving, calm she glideth still upon her happy way,
And we pass her ever smiling, for she seems some genial ray,
Whose pure source of joy is hidden from the light and from the day.
And we pass her ever smiling, for she seems some genial ray,
Whose pure source of joy is hidden from the light and from the day.
God be with thee, gentle Dora! and his choicest blessings thine;
May he keep thee pure and simple, make thy breast a holy shrine
Where may centre warm affections, and the love for Him divine.
May he keep thee pure and simple, make thy breast a holy shrine
Where may centre warm affections, and the love for Him divine.
Now the sunset vision fadeth, and the twilight shades steal on—
Wrapped in gloom, I still am sitting in the twilight, sad and lone,
Thinking of you, loved companions, mourning that ye all have gone.
Wrapped in gloom, I still am sitting in the twilight, sad and lone,
Thinking of you, loved companions, mourning that ye all have gone.
| Hagar | |