 | Poems |  |
30
TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE.
A light is in thine eyes,—an endless day
Has risen, and an eterne sun now paints
The dim and drear cold regions of this world.
She whom thy love did honor, now hath pledged
Obedience, faithful care, and life to thee.
Now the stern winter, with his snowy hair,
Droops thy fine fantasy with no vile frost,
And disappointment with a keen-edged knife
Cuts never more the cable of thy joys.
Down to the inlet's shores, wherein thy bark
Rides at its anchor, the sweet flowers are edged;
Violets and roses bloom, and the green grass.
Whatever scents the air, like hidden notes
Of some rare instrument, or charms the gaze,
This lives for thee.—I also honor thee.
Though outward cold, and wanting show of love,
My memory haunts the gladness of old days;
And in the sunny nooks of those warm thoughts
Which are the pictures of our former years,
I, like a tired child, still love to lie.
Has risen, and an eterne sun now paints
The dim and drear cold regions of this world.
She whom thy love did honor, now hath pledged
Obedience, faithful care, and life to thee.
Now the stern winter, with his snowy hair,
Droops thy fine fantasy with no vile frost,
And disappointment with a keen-edged knife
Cuts never more the cable of thy joys.
Down to the inlet's shores, wherein thy bark
Rides at its anchor, the sweet flowers are edged;
Violets and roses bloom, and the green grass.
Whatever scents the air, like hidden notes
31
This lives for thee.—I also honor thee.
Though outward cold, and wanting show of love,
My memory haunts the gladness of old days;
And in the sunny nooks of those warm thoughts
Which are the pictures of our former years,
I, like a tired child, still love to lie.
By the dark river;—in the magic tents
Of the rich trees, with sunlight creeping through,
I wander yet, and see thee stand amazed
At all the prodigal beauty. And beyond,
Where level fields, their distance marked by elms,
Stretch to the azure river, I yet roam;
Or on the mountains stand, as in those days;
So fair, so glad are those past years to me.
Those are my jewels; for these later times
Are drawn in other figures. Not friendless,
While thou yet hauntest here, the truest friend,
Whom idlesse, distance, form and show of love
Cannot dissever. Thanks for all to thee.
Of the rich trees, with sunlight creeping through,
I wander yet, and see thee stand amazed
At all the prodigal beauty. And beyond,
Where level fields, their distance marked by elms,
Stretch to the azure river, I yet roam;
Or on the mountains stand, as in those days;
So fair, so glad are those past years to me.
Those are my jewels; for these later times
Are drawn in other figures. Not friendless,
While thou yet hauntest here, the truest friend,
Whom idlesse, distance, form and show of love
Cannot dissever. Thanks for all to thee.
32
A shade is on my life. No more to me
The green trees and blue skies yield up their joy;
A fatal, fatal shade is on my days,
And though I smile, and seem to be as light,
As merry, and as humorsome as most,
The past, dear friend, casts darkness upon me.
No more,—no more of this. Joy to thee, friend,
Long life, and always glad; like a green tree,
Whose branches sing a summer melody.
And now farewell! The moon is riding up
The serene azure. The keen stars are now
Dressed in their whitest garments. Thro' the mask
Of that consuming beauty which burns out
In song, in picture, most of all in love,
I see how Heaven hath blessed thee. Now farewell.
It is a word,—sometime a thought of joy,
Sometime of sorrow. Joy to thy future.
The green trees and blue skies yield up their joy;
A fatal, fatal shade is on my days,
And though I smile, and seem to be as light,
As merry, and as humorsome as most,
The past, dear friend, casts darkness upon me.
No more,—no more of this. Joy to thee, friend,
Long life, and always glad; like a green tree,
Whose branches sing a summer melody.
And now farewell! The moon is riding up
The serene azure. The keen stars are now
Dressed in their whitest garments. Thro' the mask
Of that consuming beauty which burns out
In song, in picture, most of all in love,
I see how Heaven hath blessed thee. Now farewell.
It is a word,—sometime a thought of joy,
Sometime of sorrow. Joy to thy future.
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