Prismatics :: :: University of Virginia Library

Heart that beateth, trembleth, yearneth!
Now with grief and pain assailed,
Now with joy triumphant burneth
Now in sorrow veiled!
Moveless as the wave-worn rock
In the battle's deadly shock,
When the surging lines advance
Doom on every lance!
Yet melting at some mimic show,
Or plaintive tale of woe.

Faint with love, of conquest proud,
Seared with hate, with fury riven,
Like the fire-armed thunder-cloud
By the tempest driven:
Hark! the chords triumphant swell!
Floods on floods of raptures roll—

Sudden! strikes the passing bell,
Life has reached the goal.

Though at times, O Death, I cry,
Ope the door, thy son entreateth,
Though from Life I strive to fly,
Still the heart-clock beateth!
No, not yet I wish for thee,
Gaunt and pale, remorseless King!
Soon, too soon, thou'lt come for me
O'er life triumphing.
Glow and dance in every vein,
Crimson current, ruby river,
To thy source return again,
As the teeming summer rain
Seeks again the parent main,
The all-bounteous giver:
Beat, dear Heart, against my breast—
Tell me thou art there again:
Life and thee together rest
In that hold of joy and pain;
Stronghold yet of life thou art,
Restless, ever-working Heart!

Night comes, draped in shadows sombre,
Morning, robed in light appears!

Minutes, hours, without number,
Days, and months, and years
Pass like dreams: yet still thou art
Ever busy, restless Heart!

When his doom the Captive heareth,
How thy summons, stroke on stroke,
Tells the fatal moment neareth,
Sounding like the heavy stroke
Distant heard ere falls the oak!

How the maiden fain would hide
Thee within her bosom white,
Still against her tender side
Throbs the soft delight!
Every pulse reveals the flame,
Every fibre softly thrills,
But how innocent the shame
That her bosom fills.

In the Hero, firm as steel,
In the Virgin, soft as snow;
In the Coward, citadel
Where the recreant blood doth go,
Hiding from the sight of foe;

In the Mother's anxious breast,
Who can picture thy unrest?
When her babe lies low,
With the fitful fever burning,
No relief—still restless turning
Ever to and fro!

In the Bride what mixt commotion
When the words “Be man and wife!”
Thrill her with that deep emotion,
Known but once in life.

Priceless jewel! hidden treasure!
All the world to thee is naught:
Working loom of ceaseless pleasure,
Weaving without stint or measure
Woof and web of thought:
Hive of life! where drone and bee
Struggle for the mastery:
In thy never-ceasing motion,
Like a great star in the ocean,
Shines the Soul! thy heavenly part,
Throbbing, life-assuring Heart!