 | Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems |  |
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III.
In Exaltis.
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I.
The Portico.
I.
There is a temple, not made with hands,That out in the broad blue firmament stands.
From the silence and shade of its Portico,
I lookt out o'er the landscape that lay below:—
Green, meadowy reaches, in light that ran
To the edgings of brown where groves began;
With here-and-there, now miss'd, now met,
The silvery line of a rivulet,
That up from its fringing greenness glanced,
As into the thickets and out it danced;
And away, but indistinct and dim,
On the broad savanna's farthest rim,
Embowered in beauty, what seem'd to be
The dwellings of men, all tranquilly
Reposing in fields around them spread,
As calm as the heav'n that arch'd o'er head.
II.
And over the greenness, and over the brown
That fell from the groves like a mantle down,
Soon spread a mystical glamour, born
In part of the night, in part of the morn,
Whose soft, warm colors, drifting by,
Lay anon like mist on the mind and the eye;
And visions of wonder, half fear'd, half enjoy'd,
Floating up, sailing on, fill'd that mystical void.
As I lookt, still, and marvel'd, I felt round me fall
The gloom of the cloud that now rests on us all—
The wing of the shadow, the weight of the frown,
That in Eden with words of upbraiding came down;
And out of the distance and darkness stole in
Troubled sounds; and then o'er the bewildering din,
Breaking through the sweet songs of the brooks and the trees,
Rose this Wail, floating up on the breath of the breeze:—
That fell from the groves like a mantle down,
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In part of the night, in part of the morn,
Whose soft, warm colors, drifting by,
Lay anon like mist on the mind and the eye;
And visions of wonder, half fear'd, half enjoy'd,
Floating up, sailing on, fill'd that mystical void.
As I lookt, still, and marvel'd, I felt round me fall
The gloom of the cloud that now rests on us all—
The wing of the shadow, the weight of the frown,
That in Eden with words of upbraiding came down;
And out of the distance and darkness stole in
Troubled sounds; and then o'er the bewildering din,
Breaking through the sweet songs of the brooks and the trees,
Rose this Wail, floating up on the breath of the breeze:—
WAIL OF HUMAN SPIRITS.
1.
Disenthrall'd, we yet linger: not of earth, we are here:And we move in the Mystery yet—year after year.
Like a sunbeam from Darkness to Light we were born—
But our breath pass'd away with the mists of the morn.
2.
Like the grass of the field, ere the seed is yet brown,We were markt for the scythe, and cut ruthlessly down:
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And the Night came before we well knew it was Day.
3.
In the Mystery still do we grope; and we fightWith vague shades in a void that ne'er promises light,
And yet never brings darkness: we linger, and grope,
And despair never comes, yet we never know hope.
4.
It is never so dark but that shadows we see:It is light enough never from darkness to flee:
The silence oppresses, bewilders, confounds,
Yet less than the voices, which never are sounds.
III.
The air labor'd heavily. Shadowy forms,Like those that oft marshal the quick-coming storms
When Aries or Libra full-haloed appears,
And rules o'er the earth from the path of the spheres,
Came and went. Then the winds, as appall'd, held their breath,
And the forms that they bore became quiet as death:
E'en the woods ceast to murmur—the brooks to rejoice—
And all life lay in trance, without motion or voice.
—Of a sudden, the cry of the bittern was heard,
And the earth in the breath of the hurricane stir'd:
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The clouds, like a fleet of ships caught on the main
In the sweep of Euroclydon, wildly were driven
And tost like the sea-foam, until the pale heaven
Shone faintly between them, and smiled on the path
Which the hurricane's breath had just swept in its wrath.
Then quiet came back, and the sun, and the breeze;
And the brooks sang again to the winds and the trees.
IV.
Soon chants as of triumph, though not as of war,
Stole thrillingly in from the silence afar;
And this Song of the Seraphim, borne from above,
Where no mutterings of Hate mar the anthems of Love,
Took the place of the Wail of distrust and despair,
And with harmony fill'd every wave of the air.
Stole thrillingly in from the silence afar;
And this Song of the Seraphim, borne from above,
Where no mutterings of Hate mar the anthems of Love,
Took the place of the Wail of distrust and despair,
And with harmony fill'd every wave of the air.
SONG OF THE SERAPHIM.
1.
Up, where the King of Glory sits,Here where His People have their homes,
Never the wing of a shadow flits,
Never the wail of a sorrow comes:
But the glimmer of stars, and the gleam of the sun,
And the light that streams from the high white Throne,
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Where angels the words of Love intone.
2.
Out of the mists, and above the din,Here, where the King of Glory reigns,
Never a shadow enters in,
Never a troubled voice complains:
But angels sing the Song of the Lamb,
Whereat the Trail of the Serpent ends:
And the Voice of the high-enthroned “I Am”
A hope for man through the ages sends.
3.
Up where the King of Glory sits,Out of the mist, and above the din,
Never the wing of a shadow flits,
Never a sorrow enters in:
But light and love, and prayer and praise,
And charity that all invites,
Make up the measureless, endless days,
The days of heav'n, that know no nights.
V.
And the arching groves responsive rang,As the heav'nly chorists soar'd and sang;
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A freshening breeze came in, and fan'd
The mists to motion, and toucht the trees
To joyous and beautiful harmonies.
Then cloudlets form'd, and sail'd away
Like tilting ships on a rolling bay;
And over the landscape, erewhile dun,
Flasht brightly the beams of the slanting sun;
And the splendor and beauty of earth and sky.
Reflecting the Majesty throned on high,
Proclaim'd, as the glory spread abroad,
The goodness and power and love of God.
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II.
The Temple.
I.
'T was a beautiful, bright, bland Autumn Day.A Sabbath hush on my spirit lay.
I had heard the Sermon, and bow'd in prayer,
And laid my heart to its Maker bare.
I had eaten the fat of the fruitful land,
And given God thanks for His liberal hand.
I had turn'd from Pilate, and sicken'd, to Christ,
And wept o'er the Life he sacrificed.
I had lookt on the proud, on the meek, on the lowly,
And thought of the Sabbath, “to keep it holy.”
I had walkt with the Savior in Galilee
And felt doubt, and confusion, and darkness flee.
II.
Then I enter'd that Temple, not made with hands,That out in the broad blue firmament stands.
By the “Rock of Ages,” in its midst
I stood; and I said in my Soul: “Thou didst,
Oh God! this temple build for Man:
And in it he worshipt ere yet began
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And the boastful structures hewn of logs
And of granite and marble; and long ere yet
The mosque arose, and the minaret.
—If then and thus Thou didst let him bow,
And worship, wilt Thou forbid him now?”
III.
Whilst the waving woods, and the whispering breeze,Fill'd the arching groves with their symphonies,
I rose; and I felt that the Spirit of God
Fill'd the Temple He founded, high and broad;
And I said in my soul, as I gazed up above,
'Tis a Spirit of liberty, light, and love,
And of mercy, and goodness, and beauty and truth.”
And the Faith of my Age to the Hope of my Youth
Cried aloud: “Thou hast said it! 'tis as thou hast said!”
And again to that Spirit I bow'd down my head,
And I worshipt. “Oh God! if this worship be not
What Thou willest,” I cried, “set thy sign on this spot!”
IV.
And I worshipt, and waited. I got not a sign;But the Spirit of Peace rested on me—was mine—
And I worshipt, and waited. No Horeb—no bush,
Burning voiceful—no Sinai, with thunders. The hush,
Though, that came over nature, around and above,
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And I worshipt, and waited. Then came unto me,
In the depths of my spirit, with tones like the sea,
This only: “The Temple that arches abroad,
Over all, is the House of the Living God!”
And then this, as to Christ all the Centuries ran,
And this only: “The Sabbath was made for Man!”
V.
And I cried out: “Oh man! to the house of prayerMade with hands, go up—for thy God is there;
And, in the days of thy beautiful youth,
Bow down, and worship in spirit and truth;
In the mightier years of thy ripening age,
There still against Sin in the battle engage:
But say not of him who goes out and stands
In that grand old Temple not made with hands,
And hungers and thirsts, and worships and waits,
And for righteousness longs and supplicates,
That he errs: for Christ and his Cross are there,
And God's Angels come to him unaware.”
VI.
Then I thought of Jacob, by Isaac sentAfar into Haran, and then, as he went,
Of the ladder at Bethel, whereon in the night
Moved the Angels of God, in their vestments of light;
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That at Penuel met Jacob, and wrestled long;
And then of the Voice that so often spoke
To Moses, who broke the Egyptian yoke;
Of the Ravens that fed, in his sore distress,
Elijah prone in the Wilderness;
And the hungry hosts, that on manna fed,
And by unseen hands were comforted.
VII.
And I thought of the Dove that came to Christ,When he rose from the water, by John baptized;
Of the Mountain of Light, and the Shining Cloud,
And the Voice that out of it spoke aloud;
Of the Light that arrested and startled Paul
On his way to Damascus down; and the call
That then shook his soul; and the thick, dull night,
That lay on his eyes when withdrew that Light;
Of the Tones that at Corinth bade him “Cease
Not thou, nor fear, nor yet hold thy peace;”
And of all sights and sounds, of the earth and air,
Which proclaim that—“God is Everywhere!”
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III.
The Gardens of Nature.
I.
I rambled o'er the meadow-lands;I walkt along the river:—
The sun was shooting golden shafts
From out his autumn quiver;
The slanting arrows hit the waves,
Refracted, and ascended,
Till in the shimmering air above
With gathering mists they blended.
Effulgent glory clothed the sky,
A billowy blaze the river,
And still the golden arrows sped
From out their autumn quiver.
I thought of God and Paradise,
Of Christ and the Hereafter,
Till rous'd by children, hurrying by
From play, with songs and laughter.
II.
I mounted then the river hills,And lookt down in the valleys:—
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The maples ranged in alleys;
The gum here plumed the sloping way,
With ampelopsis twinings;
While not far off the monarch oak
Hung o'er the sumach linings.
The hill-sides, bright with autumn hues,
Now challeng'd the near heaven,
Along whose curves the golden clouds
To silvery shafts were driven.
But neither put such glory on
As clothed the gleaming river,
Where still the sun's swift arrows set
The gathering mists a-quiver.
III.
The frost had done its artist-work:—Bright leaves, around me falling,
Blent their low rustle with the tones
Of distant voices, calling
The cattle from the fields below.
I heard the sweet bells tinkle,
As homeward wound the kine. I saw
The ferns and mosses sprinkle
My winding pathway down the slope
With more than earthly graces.
I heard aloft the freshening winds,
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And soon I felt my new-strung nerves
With pleasure stir and tingle,
As banks of clouds, with sunset fill'd,
Came blazing up the dingle.
IV.
Dazed with the beauty, long I stood,As 't were 'twixt earth and heaven,
And gazed with wonder. “And all this,”
I said, “O man! was given,
In the beginning, unto thee:
Yet thou didst scorn the Giver!”
No more. There was no more to say! ...
Far up the rounding river
I saw the city's steeples shine:
I knew what lay around them;
I knew the people's pride and sin;
I knew the chains that bound them;
And, turning from all this, I gazed
Once more on earth and heaven,
As up from off the gleaming waves
The freshening winds were driven.
V.
The sun set. O'er the darkening streamThe twilight shadows gather'd;
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With which the hills were feather'd;
The cottages in shadow lay;
In shadow lay the meadows;
And up the darkening dingle's sides
Like phantoms crept the shadows.
From farms I heard the peacock's cry,
The bittern's from the river;
The city's bells, I thought, rang out—
“Deliver! oh, Deliver!”
And now the heavens outshone the waves,
The hill-tops, and the hollow,
For crimson glory sail'd the curves
Where'er the eye could follow.
VI.
I took my homeward way. In duskIt lay, far up the dingle;
And dusky thoughts I felt come up,
And with my fancies mingle.
The cottages lookt brown: I saw
The darkening shadows win them;
But, as I pass'd, the lights of home
Shone cheerfully within them.
The barn-yards lookt like graves, which here
And there white slabs besprinkle;
But, passing, I arous'd the flocks,
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A wild, dark thicket, far ahead,
Each step was nearer bringing;
But, when I reacht it, deep within
Its heart a thrush was singing.
VII.
So, on I went. And as I pass'd,Each shade had its bright lining;
And to my heart I said: “Oh, heart!
Now cease thy much repining!
If what thou wantest, cometh not
To-day, await the morrow;
And if to-morrow barren prove,
Still hold thee from thy sorrow:—
For it was sure the cottage homes
Had lights within to twinkle;
And it was sure the folded flocks
Had bells that soon would tinkle;
And it was sure the thicket's heart
Would yet with song be ringing;
And so of thine! No more repine—
But wait the Future's bringing.”
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[IV]
The Happy Valleys.
I.
I sat, far in the evening,My heart and soul aglow,
With some cherisht tokens by me
Of the crowded “Long Ago.”
I had drawn them from recesses
Held as sacred as my truth,
Some with manhood's shadows on them,
And on some the lights of youth:
And I noted, as life's periods
Came together thus from far,
That the brightest had its cloudlet,
And the darkest had its star.
II.
My whole life spread out before me,Like a crowded map unroll'd:
With the free, wild, summery boyhood,
The staid manhood—formal—cold;
All the dreams, that never would be,
Though I nurst them, aught but dreams;
The realities—hard—flinty—
And with iron in their seams;
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Even yet, like marriage bells,
And the low, sad tones, still telling
What the dirge forever tells:—
III.
All spread out before my vision,And stole in upon my brain,
Till I lived my life all over—
With its pleasure and its pain.
And I askt myself: “Now was it,
To all others, or to you,
Worth the living, for the little
It enabled you to do?”
And myself replied: “By Heaven,
Not by man, are we approved.
For myself, I hold it ample
To have lived, and to have loved.
IV.
“For ‘all others,’ the man livethNot, whose judgment I accept.
Who assails me, let him show me
That he hath himself not slept
At his post, when all around him
Moved the foe that robs and kills—
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The broad earth with all its ills.
By the judgment that 's of Heaven,
Though its vision may appall,
In my strength, or in my weakness,
I will stand, or I will fall!”
V.
To a livelier sense of being,With this answer I was stir'd:
But the dusk within my chamber
Soon again my vision blur'd;
And the loved and long-departed
All came back to me again—
And the living loved were moving
In the bright and shining train.
Though my life knew many sorrows,
I had cause for much delight:
Yet my thoughts all took their color
From my chamber and the night.
VI.
And around still troopt the shadowsOf the living and the dead,
Till the voice of the last departed,
In the old tones, sweetly said:
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In the light beyond the sky,
That is where the Happy Valleys
Of the dear departed lie.
When the golden bowl is broken,
And the silver cord is shred,
We shall meet there all together,
You the living, we the dead.
VII.
“There are trials still, and sorrows,Where the Serpent left his Trail,
But the true and trusting spirit
Will not falter there, or fail.
In the Book of Books 't is written,
By the Light that is the day,
‘But my Word, though all else perish,
Shall in no wise pass away;’
And that Word contains the Promise,
That the weary heart shall rest
Where the Happy Valleys whiten
With the Mansions of the Blest.”
| Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems | |