University of Virginia Library

Sonnets.

I. INTRODUCTORY.

“Scorn not the Sonnet:” thus hath sung the Bard
Of holy Faith and calm Philosophy:
And well the sage hath taught us to regard
The lesson in his own dear Poesy.
O might I but an humble follower be,
And tune my own “small lute” to sing my dreams
Of Beauty and of Truth, I'd bear to see
The critic frown upon these passing gleams,
Since such has been the fate of those bright ones
Who loudest, sweetest, swept the Poet's lyre:
And fain I'd stop and listen while those sons
Of music pass. O from their cars of fire
Might the seer's mantle drop on one so low,
It were a prophet's gift—but never may be so.

II. INTRODUCTORY. (Continued.)

I'll love the Sonnet then for its own sake,
And calmly hold my quiet course along.
Like clouds and sky seen on some lonely lake,
Far from the crowded world, my humble song,
Although reflecting truth and loveliness,
May be unknown, save to a cherished few;
Yet shall I never love my pen the less,
Nor cease to wreathe my little lyre anew
With the wild wood-vine and the simple green
Of Nature. Yes, the soul must sometimes speak,
And though its numbers flow almost unseen,
It hath within itself, nor harsh, nor weak,
A harmony that will at times have vent,
Though all untuned the while, the poor, dull instrument.

III. TO MY SISTERS.

Sweet sisters, ye are far away, and night
Has closed around us, dark and chill and damp,
And sullen with dull clouds. Here by my lamp
Alone I sit, and in its tapering light
Feel a calm sympathy with common things
Which in the sun-bright day I never found.
A few small well-known books are scattered round,
Silent companions of my wanderings;
Silent and yet how eloquent! Alone
I may not call myself while these are near;
Still less, when thinking of my sisters dear,
My fancy hears the sweet familiar tone
Of merry voices, while amid your glee
Ye check the laugh sometimes and talk of me.

IV. TO MY FRIENDS.

To all my absent friends, who scattered wide,
Where'er, a pilgrim, I have chanced to stray,
May sometimes in the silent eventide
Cherish a thought of him who, far away,
Thus weaves to-night his heart's rude sonnet-lay,
I send with memory thrilling with the past,
My thoughts and wishes. It may be that they
Deem me forgetful of the times when last
I held communion with them. Let them not
Think that the golden chain shall e'er grow dim;
It may be that some new and distant spot
Shall with the spells of home encircle him;
Still I may think that should they ever see
This offering, they will know how dear they are to me.

V. TO MY FRIENDS. (Continued.)

I've wandered in the world; I've left tried friends
With tearful eyes and swelling heart, behind;
I've linked my soul to others; Heaven sends
This power in infinite kindness, thus to bind
Anew the cord that has been once untwined:
Thus are we made for love and sympathy.
I've seen the Past grow faint and dusk, and pined
For days that nevermore shall come to me.
Yet have I never loved those friends the less
Whom I have gathered in my later days;
For in my hours of gloom and loneliness,
All shine like clustering stars, with purest rays,
Though some whom I have followed up the skies,
May dearer be than those bright ones I saw not rise.

VI. TO ETHELINDE.

Fair one, half known in memory, half ideal,
Who in my morning dream wert by my side
Walking and close-communing—like a bride
Leaning upon my arm:—ah, why not real,
Beautiful vision, that white dream-like form,
Those soft, dark eyes, those clustered tresses curling
So tendril-like adown thy cheek! Lo, whirling
In my chaotic fancy comes a storm,
Unseen and silent, but enough to scare
Thy bright form from my side, while ran my joy
Fullest and deepest. What dost thou destroy,
Relentless Day! Waking I murmur “Where,
Where is bright Ethelinde? Is it all o'er?”
Then close my eyes and try to dream of her once more.

VII. TO THE MAGNOLIA GRANDIFLORA.

Majestic flower! How purely beautiful
Thou art, as rising from thy bower of green,
Those dark and glossy leaves so thick and full,
Thou standest like a high-born forest-queen
Among thy maidens clustering round so fair;—
I love to watch thy sculptured form unfolding,
And look into thy depths, to image there
A fairy cavern; and while thus beholding,
And while the breeze floats o'er thee, matchless flower,
I breathe the perfume, delicate and strong,
That comes like incense from thy petal-bower,
My fancy roams those southern woods along,
Beneath that glorious tree, where deep among
The unsunned leaves thy large white flower-cups hung!

VIII. BEAUTY.

Men talk of Beauty—of the earth and sky,
And the blue stillness of sweet inland waters,
And search all language with a lover's eye,
For flowers of praise to deck earth's glorious daughters.
And it is well within the soul to cherish
Such love for all things beautiful around.
But there is Beauty that can never perish;
A hidden path no “vulture's eye” hath found.
Vainly ye seek it who in Sense alone
Wander amid the sweets the world hath given;
As vainly ye who make the Mind the throne,
While the Heart bends a slave, insulted, driven.
Thou who wouldst know what Beauty this can be,
Look on the sunlight of the Soul's deep purity.

IX. FIRST TRUTHS.

They come to me at night, but not in dreams,
Those revelations of realities;
Just at the turning moment ere mine eyes
Are closed to sleep, they come—clear sudden gleams,
Brimfull of truth like drops from heaven's deep streams
They glide into my soul. Entranced in prayer,
I gaze upon the vision shining there,
And bless the Father for these transient beams.
The trite and faded forms of Truth then fall.
I look into myself, and all alone
Lie bared before the Eternal All-in-all;
Or wandering forth in spirit, on me thrown
A magic robe of light, I roam away
To the true vision-land, unseen by day.

X. MEMORY.

O Memory, sweet sorceress of time,
Strange saddener of hours brightest in our Past,
Yet sweet in dreamy sadness—thou hast cast
Thy magic chain around me. Now the chime
Of faint departing voices wins my soul
Back to the unseen altar where the heart
Once poured its fullest worship; lightnings dart
Electric,—yet no startling thunders roll,
But only murmur distantly and sad.
'Tis there thou dwell'st, unnamed but unforgot,
O vision once so dear! a different lot
Is thine, is mine, and we have truly had
All that this life could portion us together,
Parted at length by storms of wintry weather.

XI. SLEEP.

Like the dark mirror of some mountain lake
To woods and clouds, to stars and twilight flowers,
Art thou, O Sleep, to these our waking hours!
From all that passes in us when awake,
Some strange reflection thou dost ever take;
From all events and acts thy deeps have caught
The dim inverted images of thought
And feeling. But as winds will sometimes break
The stillness of the water, every gleam
Of beauty or of order is deranged,
And all the fairy picture wildly changed—
So the calm image of some happiest dream
Turns dark and dim, and with proportion lost,
Waves, endless, shapeless, wild, even when loved the most.

XII. SLEEP. (Continued.)

But come to me, O Sleep! I love thy spell,
Although thy waving mirror hath no power
To stay the visions of the midnight hour,
Or, like the certain shapes of day, compel
The forms that haunt the shade of memory's cell
To stand before me. Come and bring thy dreams!
I love to see the dim and wavering gleams,
As journeying downward to thy mystic dell,
I stand beside thy deep and shadowy lake;
Still let me come and wander at thy will,
Through summer woods, by stream and sunny hill,
So of the lonely darkness I may make
A bright and peopled kingdom of my own,
Though the dream flies, or darkens, leaving me alone!

XIII. THE ROSE.

Dear flower of heaven and love! Thou glorious thing
That lookest out these garden nooks among;
Rose, that art ever fair and ever young!
Was it some angel on invisible wing
Hovered around thy fragrant sleep, to fling
His glowing mantle of warm sunset hues
O'er thy unfolding petals, wet with dews
Such as the flower-fays to Titania bring?
O flower of thousand memories and dreams,
That take the heart with faintness, while we gaze
On the rich depths of thy inwoven maze;
From the green banks of Eden's blessed streams
I dreamed thee brought, of brighter days to tell,
Long passed, but promised yet with us to dwell.

XIV. THE HONEYSUCKLE.

Sweet household flower, whose clambering vines festoon
The little porch before this cottage door,
How dear to me when daylight's toils are o'er,
By the broad shining of the summer moon,
To feel thy fragrance on the breath of June
Afloat;—or when the rosy twilight falls,
Ere the first night-bird to his fellow calls,
Ere the first star is out, and the low tune
Of Nature pauses, and the humming-birds
Come wooing thee with swift and silent kisses,
Ere wandering through the garden's wildernesses—
Emblem of that calm love that needs no words,
Let me like thee, sweet, silent clinging vine,
Clasp my own home awhile, ere stranger home be mine.

XV. MORNING.

The earth was wandering in a troubled sleep,
And as it wandered, dreaming tearful dreams;
Then came the sun adown his orient steep,
Making sweet morning with his golden beams;
A parent, bending o'er his child he seems,
Kissing its eyes, lips, cheeks, with warm embrace;
So kisseth he the mountains, woods and streams,
And all the dew-like tears from off its face.
O joy! That father's smile is like no other—
The child is folded in a parent's arms,
And looks up to the sky, its blue-eyed mother,
And laughs, with light upon its waking charms.
Ah, happy earth; what tender care hast thou!
There is no midnight cloud, or dream upon thee now.

XVI. NIGHT.

The star-wrought mantle of the dewy Night
Is folded now all round and round thee, Earth:
Safely to rest! this moon thy chamber-light,
These winds thy waving curtains, and the birth
Of white-winged mountain mists thy dreams shall be—
Silently rising as thy slumbers fall.
The Night is now too clear for thee to see
The storm-clouds gather at the tempest's call,
And fright thee with their dream-scowl as thou sleepest.
Rest thee, O mother Earth! The heavens above
Shine on thy sleep, will cheer thee if thou weepest,
And sing thee their old morning song of love;
They watch o'er thee, as thou when daylight comes,
Dost watch from all thy hills, over thy children's homes.