 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
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LATER POEMS.
IN THE WORLD WITH YOU.
When the first red streak of the dawn has come,
I listen, awake, for the city's hum,
A faint little threadlet of far-off sound,
Growing ever confused, like a skein unwound
By heedless fingers, wherein I hear
The voices of myriad work-folk dear,
Who make earth the sheltering home that it is,
With their beautiful, manifold industries;
And I meet them, and call to them, one by one
Passing into the light of a day begun:
“Thank God for the work that He lets us do!
I am glad that I live in the world with you!”
I listen, awake, for the city's hum,
A faint little threadlet of far-off sound,
Growing ever confused, like a skein unwound
By heedless fingers, wherein I hear
The voices of myriad work-folk dear,
Who make earth the sheltering home that it is,
With their beautiful, manifold industries;
And I meet them, and call to them, one by one
Passing into the light of a day begun:
“Thank God for the work that He lets us do!
I am glad that I live in the world with you!”
When the Sabbath morning its holier spell
On the landscape lays, and the distant bell
Answering to bell through the peaceful air
Leaves resonant melody lingering there,
I think of a shrine where I fain would be,
Where reverent worshipers bend the knee
In the presence of One whom they love, unseen;
And I murmur, “To you with my heart I lean,
And I feel the throb of your music here,
Pulsing into the heaven that is so near,
We may know if our souls to its song ring true.
I am glad that I live in the world with you!”
On the landscape lays, and the distant bell
Answering to bell through the peaceful air
Leaves resonant melody lingering there,
I think of a shrine where I fain would be,
Where reverent worshipers bend the knee
In the presence of One whom they love, unseen;
And I murmur, “To you with my heart I lean,
And I feel the throb of your music here,
Pulsing into the heaven that is so near,
We may know if our souls to its song ring true.
I am glad that I live in the world with you!”
And to all the sweetness and all the mirth
That stir in the bosom of kindly Earth;
To the flower in the field, and the bird on the bough,
And the seed springing up in the track of the plough;
To the sweeping storm, to the mist and the rain,
And the sunshine that always returns again;
To the laugh of childhood, to friendship's call,
To the faithful around us, who help us all;
To the love and the loveliness everywhere—
A Presence I feel, and a blessing I share—
I sing, and the song is forever new,
“I am glad that I live in the world with you!”
That stir in the bosom of kindly Earth;
To the flower in the field, and the bird on the bough,
And the seed springing up in the track of the plough;
To the sweeping storm, to the mist and the rain,
And the sunshine that always returns again;
To the laugh of childhood, to friendship's call,
To the faithful around us, who help us all;
To the love and the loveliness everywhere—
A Presence I feel, and a blessing I share—
I sing, and the song is forever new,
“I am glad that I live in the world with you!”
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The good that we work for is hard to win;
But our labor and worship are woven in
To one marvelous web with the beauty we see
Unfolding from blossom and star and tree,
That widens, and lengthens, and stretches above,
Out into the deeps of Invisible Love.
O spirits dear, who have vanished from sight,
You are only hid in a splendor of light
That is as the dazzling soul of the sun!
There are many mansions, the home is one,
And the doors are open, the light shines through!—
I am glad that I live in the world with you!
But our labor and worship are woven in
To one marvelous web with the beauty we see
Unfolding from blossom and star and tree,
That widens, and lengthens, and stretches above,
Out into the deeps of Invisible Love.
O spirits dear, who have vanished from sight,
You are only hid in a splendor of light
That is as the dazzling soul of the sun!
There are many mansions, the home is one,
And the doors are open, the light shines through!—
I am glad that I live in the world with you!
THE TREES.
Time is never wasted, listening to the trees;
If to heaven as grandly we arose as these,
Holding toward each other half their kindly grace,
Haply we were worthier of our human place.
If to heaven as grandly we arose as these,
Holding toward each other half their kindly grace,
Haply we were worthier of our human place.
Bending down to meet you on the hillside path,
Birch and oak and maple each his welcome hath;
Each his own fine cadence, his familiar word,
By the ear accustomed, always plainly heard.
Birch and oak and maple each his welcome hath;
Each his own fine cadence, his familiar word,
By the ear accustomed, always plainly heard.
Every tree gives answer to some different mood:
This one helps you, climbing; that for rest is good:
Beckoning friends, companions, sentinels, they are;
Good to live and die with, good to greet afar.
This one helps you, climbing; that for rest is good:
Beckoning friends, companions, sentinels, they are;
Good to live and die with, good to greet afar.
Take a poet with you when you seek their shade,—
One whose verse like music in a tree is made;
Yet your mind will wander from his rarest lay,
Lost in rhythmic measures that above you sway.
One whose verse like music in a tree is made;
Yet your mind will wander from his rarest lay,
Lost in rhythmic measures that above you sway.
Leafy light and shadow flit across the book;
Flickering, swift suggestions; word, and thought, and look
Of a subtle Presence writing nobler things
On his open pages, than the poet sings.
Flickering, swift suggestions; word, and thought, and look
Of a subtle Presence writing nobler things
On his open pages, than the poet sings.
They are poets, also; winds that turn their leaves
Waken a responsive tone that laughs or grieves;
As your thoughts within you changefully are stirred,
Prophecy or promise, lilt or hymn, is heard.
Waken a responsive tone that laughs or grieves;
As your thoughts within you changefully are stirred,
Prophecy or promise, lilt or hymn, is heard.
Never yet has poet sung a perfect song,
But his life was rooted like a tree's, among
Earth's great feeding forces,—even as crag and mould,
Rhythms that stir the forest by firm fibres hold.
But his life was rooted like a tree's, among
Earth's great feeding forces,—even as crag and mould,
Rhythms that stir the forest by firm fibres hold.
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Harmonies ethereal haunt his topmost bough,
Upward from the mortal drawn, he knows not how:
The old, sacred story of celestial birth
Rising from terrestrial; heaven revealed through earth.
Upward from the mortal drawn, he knows not how:
The old, sacred story of celestial birth
Rising from terrestrial; heaven revealed through earth.
Dear, inspiring, friendly dwellers of the wood,
Always reaching downward something grand or good
From the lofty spaces where you breathe and live;
Royally unconscious, careless what you give!
Always reaching downward something grand or good
From the lofty spaces where you breathe and live;
Royally unconscious, careless what you give!
O ye glorious creatures, heirs with us of earth!
Might we win the secret of our loftier birth,—
From our depths of being grow like you, and climb
To our heights of blessing,—life would be sublime
Might we win the secret of our loftier birth,—
From our depths of being grow like you, and climb
To our heights of blessing,—life would be sublime
FLOWERS OF THE FALLOW.
I like these plants that you call weeds,—
Sedge, hardhack, mullein, yarrow,—
That knit their roots and sift their seeds
Where any grassy wheel-track leads
Through country by-ways narrow.
Sedge, hardhack, mullein, yarrow,—
That knit their roots and sift their seeds
Where any grassy wheel-track leads
Through country by-ways narrow.
They fringe the rugged hillside farms,
Grown old with cultivation,
With such wild wealth of rustic charms
As bloomed in Nature's matron arms
The first days of creation.
Grown old with cultivation,
With such wild wealth of rustic charms
As bloomed in Nature's matron arms
The first days of creation.
They show how Mother Earth loves best
To deck her tired-out places;
By flowery lips, in hours of rest,
Against hard work she will protest
With homely airs and graces.
To deck her tired-out places;
By flowery lips, in hours of rest,
Against hard work she will protest
With homely airs and graces.
You plough the arbutus from her hills,
Hew down her mountain-laurel:
Their place, as best she can, she fills
With humbler blossoms; so she wills
To close with you her quarrel.
Hew down her mountain-laurel:
Their place, as best she can, she fills
With humbler blossoms; so she wills
To close with you her quarrel.
She yielded to your axe, with pain,
Her free, primeval glory;
She brought you crops of golden grain:
You say, “How dull she grows! how plain!”
The old, mean, selfish story!
Her free, primeval glory;
She brought you crops of golden grain:
You say, “How dull she grows! how plain!”
The old, mean, selfish story!
Her wildwood soil you may subdue,
Tortured by hoe and harrow;
But leave her for a year or two,
And see! she stands and laughs at you
With hardhack, mullein, yarrow!
Tortured by hoe and harrow;
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And see! she stands and laughs at you
With hardhack, mullein, yarrow!
Dear Earth, the world is hard to please!
Yet heaven's breath gently passes
Into the life of flowers like these;
And I lie down at blessèd ease
Among thy weeds and grasses.
Yet heaven's breath gently passes
Into the life of flowers like these;
And I lie down at blessèd ease
Among thy weeds and grasses.
BY THE RIVER.
River, O river, that singest all night,
Nor waitest for light
To pour out thy mirth
Along the chill earth,
The words of thy song let me know!
“I come and I go.”
Nor waitest for light
To pour out thy mirth
Along the chill earth,
The words of thy song let me know!
“I come and I go.”
River, O river, with swell and with fall,
Thy musical call
Waketh, summoneth me;
What thought is in thee
That lulls me, yet rouses me so?
“I come and I go.”
Thy musical call
Waketh, summoneth me;
What thought is in thee
That lulls me, yet rouses me so?
“I come and I go.”
River, O river, a word thou must give,
To help me to live.
“Then sing on thy way,—
Sing the joy of to-day,—
Time's ripple, eternity's flow!
I come and I go.”
To help me to live.
“Then sing on thy way,—
Sing the joy of to-day,—
Time's ripple, eternity's flow!
I come and I go.”
River, O river, thy message is clear;
Chant on, for I hear!
“What the mountains give me
Bear I forth to the sea.
Life only is thine to bestow:
I come and I go.”
Chant on, for I hear!
“What the mountains give me
Bear I forth to the sea.
Life only is thine to bestow:
I come and I go.”
River, O river, thy secret of power
I win from this hour;
Thy rhythm of delight
Is my song in the night:
I am glad with thy gladness; for, lo!
I come and I go.
I win from this hour;
Thy rhythm of delight
Is my song in the night:
I am glad with thy gladness; for, lo!
I come and I go.
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A SONG-SPARROW IN MARCH.
How much do the birds know, afloat in the air,
Of our changeable, strange human life and its care?
Who can tell what they utter,
With carol and flutter,
Of the joy of our hearts, or the pain hidden there?
Of our changeable, strange human life and its care?
Who can tell what they utter,
With carol and flutter,
Of the joy of our hearts, or the pain hidden there?
In the March morning twilight I turned from a bed
Where a soul had just risen from a form lying dead:
The dim world was ringing
With a song-sparrow's singing
That went up and pierced the gray dawn overhead.
Where a soul had just risen from a form lying dead:
The dim world was ringing
With a song-sparrow's singing
That went up and pierced the gray dawn overhead.
It rose like an ecstasy loosed from the earth;
Like a rapture repeating the song of its birth;
In that clear burst of gladness
Night shook off her sadness,
And death itself echoed the heavenly mirth.
Like a rapture repeating the song of its birth;
In that clear burst of gladness
Night shook off her sadness,
And death itself echoed the heavenly mirth.
While her sorrowful burden the sufferer laid by,
The little bird passed, and caught up to the sky,
And sang to gray meadow
And mist-wreath and shadow
The triumph a mortal had found it to die.
The little bird passed, and caught up to the sky,
And sang to gray meadow
And mist-wreath and shadow
The triumph a mortal had found it to die.
Oh, the birds cannot tell what it is that they sing!
But to me must the song-sparrow's melody bring,
Whenever I hear it,
The joy of a spirit
Released into life on that dim dawn of spring.
But to me must the song-sparrow's melody bring,
Whenever I hear it,
The joy of a spirit
Released into life on that dim dawn of spring.
ORION.
Orion, with his glittering belt and swordGirded since time has been, while time shall be,
Looks through my window nightly upon me,
My day's work done, its weary conquests scored,
Its wearier failures bitterly deplored.
Thou splendid, soulless warrior! what to thee,
Marching along thy bloodless fields, are we,
Who hardly can a breathing-space afford,
Between the routed and the advancing foe?
Yet ours is glory that outdazzles thine:
Not before thee will we ourselves abase.
Thy stars but pave the road whereon we go,
Assured, by our alliances divine,
Of conquering yet the world, and time, and space.
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CLIMBING TO REST.
Still must I climb, if I would rest:
The bird soars upward to his nest;
The young leaf on the tree-top high
Cradles itself within the sky.
The bird soars upward to his nest;
The young leaf on the tree-top high
Cradles itself within the sky.
The streams, that seem to hasten down,
Return in clouds, the hills to crown;
The plant arises from her root,
To rock aloft her flower and fruit.
Return in clouds, the hills to crown;
The plant arises from her root,
To rock aloft her flower and fruit.
I cannot in the valley stay:
The great horizons stretch away!
The very cliffs that wall me round
Are ladders unto higher ground.
The great horizons stretch away!
The very cliffs that wall me round
Are ladders unto higher ground.
To work—to rest—for each a time;
I toil, but I must also climb.
What soul was ever quite at ease
Shut in by earthly boundaries?
I toil, but I must also climb.
What soul was ever quite at ease
Shut in by earthly boundaries?
I am not glad till I have known
Life that can lift me from my own:
A loftier level must be won,
A mightier strength to lean upon.
Life that can lift me from my own:
A loftier level must be won,
A mightier strength to lean upon.
And heaven draws near as I ascend;
The breeze invites, the stars befriend:
All things are beckoning toward the Best:
I climb to thee, my God, for rest!
The breeze invites, the stars befriend:
All things are beckoning toward the Best:
I climb to thee, my God, for rest!
MOUNT MORIAH FROM BETHEL.
The mountains, gazed at from afar,
Take shape of our imaginings;
Outspread beyond this valley are
A lifted pair of purple wings,
That bear my thoughts away, away,
I know not whither, day by day.
Take shape of our imaginings;
Outspread beyond this valley are
A lifted pair of purple wings,
That bear my thoughts away, away,
I know not whither, day by day.
Behind them, two gray pyramids
Cut sharp and deep the western sky,
With one pale summit, that forbids
His brother peaks to climb too high,
Because he will have mate nor peer
His lonely tryst with heaven to hear.
Cut sharp and deep the western sky,
With one pale summit, that forbids
His brother peaks to climb too high,
Because he will have mate nor peer
His lonely tryst with heaven to hear.
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These are the heights that crown the land;
Step after step, their slopes descend
Out of the clouds, a stairway grand,
Until with common earth they blend,
Where the broad meadow spreads before
Their bases, like an emerald floor.
Step after step, their slopes descend
Out of the clouds, a stairway grand,
Until with common earth they blend,
Where the broad meadow spreads before
Their bases, like an emerald floor.
The men who tilled these fields of old,
Called the place Bethel: well might seem
That mountain stairway to unfold
The ladder set in Jacob's dream;
And the wide pinions outlined there,
An angel's, winnowing the air.
Called the place Bethel: well might seem
That mountain stairway to unfold
The ladder set in Jacob's dream;
And the wide pinions outlined there,
An angel's, winnowing the air.
The farther summits proudly oft
Retreat in clouds, and mist, and rain,
Leaving those great wings poised aloft:
Forward they bend, with steadfast strain,
As if to bear on through the sky
Some burden of glad mystery.
Retreat in clouds, and mist, and rain,
Leaving those great wings poised aloft:
Forward they bend, with steadfast strain,
As if to bear on through the sky
Some burden of glad mystery.
And sometimes of their shape is left
Only one vigorous, broken line,
Half hidden by a vapory weft;
The dim sketch of a grand design,
Whose veiled proportions still suggest
Motion and strength, upheld in rest.
Only one vigorous, broken line,
Half hidden by a vapory weft;
The dim sketch of a grand design,
Whose veiled proportions still suggest
Motion and strength, upheld in rest.
My fancy often paints a Face,
Benign with majesty and light,
Looking out midway through the space
Where the wings part for onward flight:
Oh, wondrous beyond mortal guess
Is that elusive loveliness!
Benign with majesty and light,
Looking out midway through the space
Where the wings part for onward flight:
Oh, wondrous beyond mortal guess
Is that elusive loveliness!
Yet vainly imagery of mine
Dreams its faint picture of the Love
That hovers, with a warmth divine,
These human lives of ours above,
And from the hardships of our lot
Uplifts us, when we know it not.
Dreams its faint picture of the Love
That hovers, with a warmth divine,
These human lives of ours above,
And from the hardships of our lot
Uplifts us, when we know it not.
Out of the very ground we tread
Visions of heavenly hope arise.
God made the earth; it is not dead;
It shares the glory of the skies:
Look! even in vague, half-shapen things
A soul is struggling up for wings!
Visions of heavenly hope arise.
God made the earth; it is not dead;
It shares the glory of the skies:
Look! even in vague, half-shapen things
A soul is struggling up for wings!
Bethel, Me., September, 1881.
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THE SUMMIT-FLOWER.
ALPINE SANDWORT.
Too close these giant hills their heads uprear;
From peak to base the unswerving outlines sweep
In awful curves; I follow them with fear:
They bear me down to yon abysmal deep,
Where storm-wind and black cloud for mastery fight,
And toss me, as their plaything, on the air;
The mountains crush me with their savage might;
Nature's rude strength is more than I can bear.
From peak to base the unswerving outlines sweep
In awful curves; I follow them with fear:
They bear me down to yon abysmal deep,
Where storm-wind and black cloud for mastery fight,
And toss me, as their plaything, on the air;
The mountains crush me with their savage might;
Nature's rude strength is more than I can bear.
O little white flower on the summit born,
How tenderly you look into my eyes!
Not for a moment do you feel forlorn
Among these grandeurs and immensities.
Vague, formless forces they; a life are you!
My next of kin, and dear as near to me,
You whisper in my ear a promise true,
A faint, clear hint of immortality.
How tenderly you look into my eyes!
Not for a moment do you feel forlorn
Among these grandeurs and immensities.
Vague, formless forces they; a life are you!
My next of kin, and dear as near to me,
You whisper in my ear a promise true,
A faint, clear hint of immortality.
I touch your leaf with reverence, little flower!
I think of spiritual heights beyond your ken,
Where mightier movements of invisible power
Mould into God-like grace the lives of men.
I gather courage, while I watch you here,
Winning from elements fierce your happy breath,
To root my hopes in mystery and fear,
And find my life in that which seems my death.
I think of spiritual heights beyond your ken,
Where mightier movements of invisible power
Mould into God-like grace the lives of men.
I gather courage, while I watch you here,
Winning from elements fierce your happy breath,
To root my hopes in mystery and fear,
And find my life in that which seems my death.
Mount Washington, N. H., August, 1882.
LOOKING DOWN.
Dear World, looking down from the highest of heights that my feet can attain,
I see not the smoke of your cities, the dust of your highway and plain;
Over all your dull moors and morasses a veil the blue atmosphere folds,
And you might be made wholly of mountains, for aught that my vision beholds.
I see not the smoke of your cities, the dust of your highway and plain;
Over all your dull moors and morasses a veil the blue atmosphere folds,
And you might be made wholly of mountains, for aught that my vision beholds.
Dear World, I look down and am grateful that so we all sometimes may stand
Above our own every-day level, and know that our nature is grand
In its possible glory of climbing; in the hill-tops that beckon and bend
So close over every mortal, he scarcely can choose but ascend.
Above our own every-day level, and know that our nature is grand
In its possible glory of climbing; in the hill-tops that beckon and bend
So close over every mortal, he scarcely can choose but ascend.
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Dear World, on the peak we miss something,—the sweet multitudinous sound
Of leaves in the forest a-flutter, of rivulets lisping around;
The smell of wild pastures in blossom, of fresh earth upturned by the plough;—
But the fields and the woods led us hither; half-way they are following now!
Of leaves in the forest a-flutter, of rivulets lisping around;
The smell of wild pastures in blossom, of fresh earth upturned by the plough;—
But the fields and the woods led us hither; half-way they are following now!
One world—there is no separation—the same earth above and below;
Up here is the river's cloud-cradle, down there is its fullness and flow.
My voice joins the voice of your millions who upward in weariness grope,
And the hills bear the burden to heaven,—humanity's anguish and hope!
Up here is the river's cloud-cradle, down there is its fullness and flow.
My voice joins the voice of your millions who upward in weariness grope,
And the hills bear the burden to heaven,—humanity's anguish and hope!
Dear World, lying quiet and lovely, in a shimmer of gossamer haze,
Beneath the soft films of your mantle I can feel your heart beat, as I gaze.
I know you by what you aspire to; by the look that on no face can be,
Save in moments of high consecration: you are showing your true self to me.
Beneath the soft films of your mantle I can feel your heart beat, as I gaze.
I know you by what you aspire to; by the look that on no face can be,
Save in moments of high consecration: you are showing your true self to me.
Dear World, I behold but your largeness; I forget that aught evil or mean
Ever marred the vast sphere of your beauty, over which as a lover I lean.
And not by our flaws will God judge us; His love keeps our noblest in sight:
Dear World, our low life sinks behind us; we look up to His infinite height!
Ever marred the vast sphere of your beauty, over which as a lover I lean.
And not by our flaws will God judge us; His love keeps our noblest in sight:
Dear World, our low life sinks behind us; we look up to His infinite height!
VALLEY AND PEAK.
The Valley said to the Peak,
“O Peak, I fain would arise
And be great like you! I would seek
The wealth that illumes your skies!
Although I lie so low
At your feet, I aspire to share
The splendor and strength you know,
Lifted up into spacious air.”
“O Peak, I fain would arise
And be great like you! I would seek
The wealth that illumes your skies!
Although I lie so low
At your feet, I aspire to share
The splendor and strength you know,
Lifted up into spacious air.”
The Peak to the Valley said,
“O Valley, be content,
Since for you my veins have bled,
And for you my breath is spent!
Alone, for your sake, I live
In the cold and cloudy blue;
Great only in that I give
The riches of heaven to you.”
“O Valley, be content,
Since for you my veins have bled,
And for you my breath is spent!
Alone, for your sake, I live
In the cold and cloudy blue;
Great only in that I give
The riches of heaven to you.”
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A MOUNTAIN BRIDAL.
TARN TO BROOKLET.
I was a tarn on the mountain-side.
Misty and chill,
Over the hill,
Over and under the pine-woods wide,
Heard I the wandering wind
Moaning, as one who could never find
A place where he might abide.
Misty and chill,
Over the hill,
Over and under the pine-woods wide,
Heard I the wandering wind
Moaning, as one who could never find
A place where he might abide.
I was alone in my hollow glen;
Sunset's red gleam,
The moon's pallid beam,
The cry of the beast from his unknown den,—
They haunted the lonesome wood,
Only to deepen its solitude:
Was I alive, love, then?
Sunset's red gleam,
The moon's pallid beam,
The cry of the beast from his unknown den,—
They haunted the lonesome wood,
Only to deepen its solitude:
Was I alive, love, then?
Once, in a darkling dream, I heard—
Oh, to know where!—
High in the air,
Something that sang to me, thrilled in me, stirred
Life that I knew not was mine;
A ripple of melody, dim and divine,
A far-off, familiar word.
Oh, to know where!—
High in the air,
Something that sang to me, thrilled in me, stirred
Life that I knew not was mine;
A ripple of melody, dim and divine,
A far-off, familiar word.
Once, in a noonday trance, I saw
A glimmer of white,
A wonder of light,
A radiance of crystal without a flaw,
Shining through moss and fern,
Glimpsing and hiding, with many a turn,
Yet coming, by some sweet law;
A glimmer of white,
A wonder of light,
A radiance of crystal without a flaw,
Shining through moss and fern,
Glimpsing and hiding, with many a turn,
Yet coming, by some sweet law;
Coming to me, O my brooklet-bride!
Yes, it was thou,
Life of me now!
Coming, with grace of a sunbeam, to glide
Into my soul's shadow deep:
Waked by thy laughter from sloth and from sleep,
Thee must I follow, my guide!
Yes, it was thou,
Life of me now!
Coming, with grace of a sunbeam, to glide
Into my soul's shadow deep:
Waked by thy laughter from sloth and from sleep,
Thee must I follow, my guide!
Mine, O my blessing, my mountain-born!
Out of the glen,
Down among men,
Winsomely leading me forth, like the morn;
Heaven on thy musical lip,
Fresh from the wells where the holy stars dip,
Rousing me up from self-scorn.
Out of the glen,
Down among men,
Winsomely leading me forth, like the morn;
Heaven on thy musical lip,
Fresh from the wells where the holy stars dip,
Rousing me up from self-scorn.
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Still, at our tryst on the mountain-side,
Something we keep
Hidden too deep
Ever to whisper through earth so wide;
Love that we dimly know
Leaves the world fresher wherever we go,
One to the end, O my bride!
Something we keep
Hidden too deep
Ever to whisper through earth so wide;
Love that we dimly know
Leaves the world fresher wherever we go,
One to the end, O my bride!
HILLS IN MIST.
Familiar is the scene, yet strange:
Field, roadside, tree, and stream,
Fringed with a blur of misty change,—
The landscape of a dream!
Field, roadside, tree, and stream,
Fringed with a blur of misty change,—
The landscape of a dream!
The hills are gone; the river winds
Under a fleecy bank:
The eye, through all its wandering, finds
Both earth and heaven a blank.
Under a fleecy bank:
The eye, through all its wandering, finds
Both earth and heaven a blank.
The picture tells a tale untrue:
Where muffling mists descend,
Where level meadows bound the view,
The horizon does not end.
Where muffling mists descend,
Where level meadows bound the view,
The horizon does not end.
For, glimpsed beyond the spectral trees,
Faint, penciled peaks appear;
And in this fresh, inspiring breeze
We know the mountains near.
Faint, penciled peaks appear;
And in this fresh, inspiring breeze
We know the mountains near.
—O Country all reality,
Hidden from mortal sight
By baffling folds of mystery,
Show our tired souls thy light!
Hidden from mortal sight
By baffling folds of mystery,
Show our tired souls thy light!
O Breath from hills invisible,
Flow through the films of doubt,
That we, who here as pilgrims dwell,
Feel not from home shut out!
Flow through the films of doubt,
That we, who here as pilgrims dwell,
Feel not from home shut out!
Or help us, when the stifling cloud
Closes on our despair,
By faith to pierce its deathly shroud,
And know that heaven is there!
Closes on our despair,
By faith to pierce its deathly shroud,
And know that heaven is there!
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THE LILY OF THE RESURRECTION.
While the lily dwells in earth,
Walled about with crumbling mould,
She the secret of her birth
Guesses not, nor has been told.
Walled about with crumbling mould,
She the secret of her birth
Guesses not, nor has been told.
Hides the brown bulb in the ground,
Knowing not she is a flower;
Knowing not she shall be crowned
As a queen, with white-robed power.
Knowing not she is a flower;
Knowing not she shall be crowned
As a queen, with white-robed power.
Though her whole life is one thrill
Upward, unto skies unseen,
In her husks she wraps her still,
Wondering what her visions mean.
Upward, unto skies unseen,
In her husks she wraps her still,
Wondering what her visions mean.
Shivering, while the bursting scales
Leave her heart bare, with a sigh
She her unclad state bewails,
Whispering to herself, “I die.”
Leave her heart bare, with a sigh
She her unclad state bewails,
Whispering to herself, “I die.”
Die? Then may she welcome death,
Leaving darkness underground,
Breathing out her sweet, free breath
Into the new heavens around.
Leaving darkness underground,
Breathing out her sweet, free breath
Into the new heavens around.
Die? She bathes in ether warm:
Beautiful without, within,
See at last the imprisoned form
All its fair proportions win!
Beautiful without, within,
See at last the imprisoned form
All its fair proportions win!
Life it means, this impulse high
Which through every rootlet stirs:
Lo! the sunshine and the sky
She was made for, now are hers!
Which through every rootlet stirs:
Lo! the sunshine and the sky
She was made for, now are hers!
Soul, thou too art set in earth,
Heavenward through the dark to grow:
Dreamest thou of thy royal birth?
Climb! and thou shalt surely know.
Heavenward through the dark to grow:
Dreamest thou of thy royal birth?
Climb! and thou shalt surely know.
Shuddering Doubt to Nature cries,—
Nature, though she smiles, is dumb,—
“How then can the dead arise?
With what body do they come?”
Nature, though she smiles, is dumb,—
“How then can the dead arise?
With what body do they come?”
Lo, the unfolding mystery!
We shall bloom, some wondrous hour,
As the lily blooms, when she
Dies a bulb, to live a flower!
We shall bloom, some wondrous hour,
As the lily blooms, when she
Dies a bulb, to live a flower!
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MISREAD.
You praised her for her truth one day;
But I, who knew her best, can say
That to herself her words seemed still
To mock the meaning of her will.
An arrow striking somewhat near
Its mark, is speech, when most sincere;
And, as her heart itself, I knew
She did but aim at being true.
But I, who knew her best, can say
That to herself her words seemed still
To mock the meaning of her will.
An arrow striking somewhat near
Its mark, is speech, when most sincere;
And, as her heart itself, I knew
She did but aim at being true.
Less easily could she endure
What once you breathed,—“She is so pure!”
The earthliness of earth is such,
We soil the dearest hands we touch.
Dust clogs and stains the whitest wings,
Sin cleaves even to our holiest things;
None taintless is; yet am I sure
Her inmost prayer was, to be pure.
What once you breathed,—“She is so pure!”
The earthliness of earth is such,
We soil the dearest hands we touch.
Dust clogs and stains the whitest wings,
Sin cleaves even to our holiest things;
None taintless is; yet am I sure
Her inmost prayer was, to be pure.
But when “So good!” you said of her,
What saddening memories did you stir
Of shipwrecked possibilities,
Vessels becalmed on stagnant seas,—
Seeds of all virtues idly sown,
And left untended and unblown!
—Well of herself she understood
How fitfully she strove towards good.
What saddening memories did you stir
Of shipwrecked possibilities,
Vessels becalmed on stagnant seas,—
Seeds of all virtues idly sown,
And left untended and unblown!
—Well of herself she understood
How fitfully she strove towards good.
Ah, pitiful indeed is praise
To one who lives beneath the gaze
Of conscience, feels the All-Seeing Eye
Through utterance, deed, and motive pry!
Painful enough the word of blame
Answered by acquiescent shame!
Who knows himself can nothing boast;
But they who praise us pain us most!
To one who lives beneath the gaze
Of conscience, feels the All-Seeing Eye
Through utterance, deed, and motive pry!
Painful enough the word of blame
Answered by acquiescent shame!
Who knows himself can nothing boast;
But they who praise us pain us most!
IN THE STREET.
Walking among the crowd, where faces shift
As in a great kaleidoscope,—some bright
With pleasure's gleam of evanescent light,
Some dull with vague despairs, some that uplift
The radiance of a vision ere they fade
And vanish,—as confusedly they pass,
We question of ourselves, “This common mass
Of human life, to what end was it made?”
As in a great kaleidoscope,—some bright
With pleasure's gleam of evanescent light,
Some dull with vague despairs, some that uplift
The radiance of a vision ere they fade
And vanish,—as confusedly they pass,
We question of ourselves, “This common mass
Of human life, to what end was it made?”
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But think! No jewel out of setting shows
As in its own fit nook. So let us learn
To look upon these various lives, that turn
To one illumining Centre. Lo! each glows
In the full brotherhood of Christ's dear face,
And is, by that relationship divine—
The bond that glorifies your life and mine—
Forever lifted out of commonplace!
As in its own fit nook. So let us learn
To look upon these various lives, that turn
To one illumining Centre. Lo! each glows
In the full brotherhood of Christ's dear face,
And is, by that relationship divine—
The bond that glorifies your life and mine—
Forever lifted out of commonplace!
BEAUTY EVER NEAR.
O ye who toil alone in shadowy places,
The light is beautiful on your sad faces,
When souls that dwell in sunshine, toward you pressing,
Make your eyes glisten with a rainbow-blessing!
Through deepening darkness let this memory cheer you:
That lovely lives are always drawing near you.
The light is beautiful on your sad faces,
When souls that dwell in sunshine, toward you pressing,
Make your eyes glisten with a rainbow-blessing!
Through deepening darkness let this memory cheer you:
That lovely lives are always drawing near you.
Sometimes you see them not; a bright veil hideth
The brighter realm wherein their love abideth.
We call them angels then; not less they linger,
Lifting your heavy gloom with luminous finger,
The loftiest ever seeking the most lowly;
Your friends, the strong, the beautiful, the holy!
The brighter realm wherein their love abideth.
We call them angels then; not less they linger,
Lifting your heavy gloom with luminous finger,
The loftiest ever seeking the most lowly;
Your friends, the strong, the beautiful, the holy!
Look! radiant foreheads out of heaven are bending!
All earth is Bethel, angels still descending!
And though dread names of mystery they borrow—
Care, Poverty, Bereavement, Pain, and Sorrow—
Fear them not; wait and see the brightness, rather,
They shine with, in the presence of your Father!
All earth is Bethel, angels still descending!
And though dread names of mystery they borrow—
Care, Poverty, Bereavement, Pain, and Sorrow—
Fear them not; wait and see the brightness, rather,
They shine with, in the presence of your Father!
Lo! robed in glory tongue nor pen hath painted,
The Man of Sorrows, with your grief acquainted,
Is drawing nearer, Spirit unto spirit!
His voice is music; lift your heads and hear it!
The Infinite Beauty to Himself would win you;
God's Well-Beloved comes to dwell within ou!
The Man of Sorrows, with your grief acquainted,
Is drawing nearer, Spirit unto spirit!
His voice is music; lift your heads and hear it!
The Infinite Beauty to Himself would win you;
God's Well-Beloved comes to dwell within ou!
ABANDONED.
They look, and pass thee by,
Fallen, wounded, on the lower steps of life,
Not worth the lifting up, the leading in
Out of the deadly air, the crush, the strife;
Deemed all too foul with sin
For clean hands' touch, for clean feet to draw nigh.
Fallen, wounded, on the lower steps of life,
Not worth the lifting up, the leading in
Out of the deadly air, the crush, the strife;
Deemed all too foul with sin
For clean hands' touch, for clean feet to draw nigh.
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And yet thou art God's child,
My sister lost, and Christ's lost sister, too.
Is any clean like Him,—like Him, who gave
His heart's help unto such, in friendship true?
Ay, He alone could save,
Because He was the only Undefiled.
My sister lost, and Christ's lost sister, too.
Is any clean like Him,—like Him, who gave
His heart's help unto such, in friendship true?
Ay, He alone could save,
Because He was the only Undefiled.
Wide open is the door
Above life's lofty steps, and there stands He:
Nay, He descends, the purest of the pure;
Looks with thine eyes, appeals to us through thee;
Asks, “Are ye then my friends?
Whom I have loved, ‘abandoned’ name no more!”
Above life's lofty steps, and there stands He:
Nay, He descends, the purest of the pure;
Looks with thine eyes, appeals to us through thee;
Asks, “Are ye then my friends?
Whom I have loved, ‘abandoned’ name no more!”
Sister, Christ's little one,—
For such are all the weak, while the self-strong
Shut themselves out from His sweet help and heaven,—
Him hast thou hurt most deeply by thy wrong!
But, since He hath forgiven,
Thou mayest meet any eye; thy heaven is won!
For such are all the weak, while the self-strong
Shut themselves out from His sweet help and heaven,—
Him hast thou hurt most deeply by thy wrong!
But, since He hath forgiven,
Thou mayest meet any eye; thy heaven is won!
THEE ONLY.
If now anew the search were to be madeFor One to guide me onward through the gloom
Of this dim world wherein I walk afraid;
If, like a child left in an empty room,
Homesick, alone, the silence like a tomb,
I went forth weeping, and should hear one say,
“Here, child!” another, “Yonder is the way!”
Another, “Come with me! why care with whom?”—
I do not think I could mistake Thy call
Among ten thousand. Toward Thy voice I grope,
Brother, Friend, Lord! although with many a fall,
And sore bewilderment, and baffled hope.
My needy soul, if ignorant of Thee,
Would prophesy Thy coming. Thou must be!
IN WHOM WE LIVE.
O Infinite of joy and light
Wherewith we are surrounded,
We lift our spirits to Thy height,
Unfathomed and unbounded.
Thy greatness drowns our petty cares;
Thy heaven is in us, unawares.
Wherewith we are surrounded,
We lift our spirits to Thy height,
Unfathomed and unbounded.
Thy greatness drowns our petty cares;
Thy heaven is in us, unawares.
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O Infinite of righteousness,
Breath of our inmost being!
Thy purity will cleanse and bless
The soul from evil fleeing:
We hide our sin-stained hearts in Thee,
And pray, “As Thou art, let us be!”
Breath of our inmost being!
Thy purity will cleanse and bless
The soul from evil fleeing:
We hide our sin-stained hearts in Thee,
And pray, “As Thou art, let us be!”
O Infinitely Loving One!
Redeemer, Guide, and Brother!
By Thee, the warm, revealing Sun,
We see and love each other;
With thy deep Life our lives we blend,
And find ourselves in Thee, our Friend!
Redeemer, Guide, and Brother!
By Thee, the warm, revealing Sun,
We see and love each other;
With thy deep Life our lives we blend,
And find ourselves in Thee, our Friend!
THE INMOST ONE.
How near to me, my God, Thou art!
Felt in the throbbing of my heart,
Nearer than my own thoughts to me:
Nothing is real, without Thee!
Felt in the throbbing of my heart,
Nearer than my own thoughts to me:
Nothing is real, without Thee!
Thy perfect light makes morning fair,
Thy breath is freshness in the air;
The glory Thou of star and sun,
Thou Souls of souls, Thou Inmost One!
Thy breath is freshness in the air;
The glory Thou of star and sun,
Thou Souls of souls, Thou Inmost One!
With feverish restlessness and pain
We strive to shut Thee out, in vain;
To darkened heart and rebel will
Thou art the one clear Dayspring still.
We strive to shut Thee out, in vain;
To darkened heart and rebel will
Thou art the one clear Dayspring still.
Eyes art Thou unto us, the blind;
We turn to Thee, ourselves to find;
We set ajar no door of prayer
But Thou art waiting entrance there.
We turn to Thee, ourselves to find;
We set ajar no door of prayer
But Thou art waiting entrance there.
Within me,—nearer far than near,—
Through every thought Thy voice I hear:
My whole life welcomes Thy control,
Immanuel! God within my soul!
Through every thought Thy voice I hear:
My whole life welcomes Thy control,
Immanuel! God within my soul!
Thou fillest my being's hidden springs,
Thou givest my wishes heavenward wings;
I live Thy life, I breathe Thy breath;
Nor part nor lot have I with death.
Thou givest my wishes heavenward wings;
I live Thy life, I breathe Thy breath;
Nor part nor lot have I with death.
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TRANSFIGURED.
How changed in an instant! What was it?
A word, or the glance of an eye,
Or a thought flashed from spirit to spirit,
As the rush of the world swept by?
A word, or the glance of an eye,
Or a thought flashed from spirit to spirit,
As the rush of the world swept by?
I cannot tell how, yet I know it,—
That once unto me it was given,
'Mid the noonday stir of the city
To breathe for a moment in heaven.
That once unto me it was given,
'Mid the noonday stir of the city
To breathe for a moment in heaven.
The heaven that is hidden within us
For a moment was open to me,
And I caught a glimpse of the glory
That perhaps we might always see.
For a moment was open to me,
And I caught a glimpse of the glory
That perhaps we might always see.
A sudden hush in the tumult,
A misty glimmer of trees,
And a ripple of shaded water,—
Yet oh! so much more than these!
A misty glimmer of trees,
And a ripple of shaded water,—
Yet oh! so much more than these!
A light and a life whence the freshness,
The color and coolness grew;
A baptism on human faces,
An earth created anew!
The color and coolness grew;
A baptism on human faces,
An earth created anew!
It came in the calm of communion
With a soul that had entered in
To the life over self victorious,
Arisen from the grave of sin.
With a soul that had entered in
To the life over self victorious,
Arisen from the grave of sin.
As spirit responds unto spirit
Without the sound of a word,
My heart-strings awoke to vibrations
Of music by sense unheard.
Without the sound of a word,
My heart-strings awoke to vibrations
Of music by sense unheard.
And my soul was aware of a vision
Too brief and too holy to tell:
But I saw that the realm of our longing
Is close to the world where we dwell.
Too brief and too holy to tell:
But I saw that the realm of our longing
Is close to the world where we dwell.
Yes, heaven has come down to meet us;
It hangs in our atmosphere;
Its beautiful, open secret
Is whispered in every ear.
It hangs in our atmosphere;
Its beautiful, open secret
Is whispered in every ear.
And everywhere, here and always,
If we would but open our eyes,
We should find, through these beaten footpaths,
Our way into Paradise.
If we would but open our eyes,
We should find, through these beaten footpaths,
Our way into Paradise.
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We should walk there with one another;
Nor halting, disheartened, wait
To enter a dreamed-of City
By a far-off, shadowy Gate.
Nor halting, disheartened, wait
To enter a dreamed-of City
By a far-off, shadowy Gate.
Dull earth would be dull no longer,
The clod would sparkle a gem;
And our hands, at their commonest labor,
Would be building Jerusalem.
The clod would sparkle a gem;
And our hands, at their commonest labor,
Would be building Jerusalem.
For the clear, cool river of Eden
Flows fresh through our dusty streets;
We may feel its spray on our foreheads
Amid wearisome noontide heats.
Flows fresh through our dusty streets;
We may feel its spray on our foreheads
Amid wearisome noontide heats.
We may share the joy of God's angels
On the errands that He has given;
We may live in a world transfigured,
And sweet with the air of heaven.
On the errands that He has given;
We may live in a world transfigured,
And sweet with the air of heaven.
WOMAN'S CHRISTMAS.
“For unto us a Child is born.”
Not, Mary, unto thee alone,
Though blessèd among women thou:
Not thine, nor yet thy nation's own,
With that large glory on His brow.
Though blessèd among women thou:
Not thine, nor yet thy nation's own,
With that large glory on His brow.
Thou bendest in awe above the Child,
The cradled Hope of all the race;
The perfect One, the Undefiled,
A saved world shining in His face.
The cradled Hope of all the race;
The perfect One, the Undefiled,
A saved world shining in His face.
Thou bendest in awe; we bend with thee,
Forgetting bygone loneliness.
Our heart's desire fulfilled is He;
Our solitude He comes to bless.
Forgetting bygone loneliness.
Our heart's desire fulfilled is He;
Our solitude He comes to bless.
By the close bond of womanhood,
By the prophetic mother-heart,
Forever visioning unshaped good,
Mary, in Him we claim our part.
By the prophetic mother-heart,
Forever visioning unshaped good,
Mary, in Him we claim our part.
This baby's Face is as the sun
Upon the dimness of our way;
This child's Arm ours to lean upon
When mortal strength and hope decay.
Upon the dimness of our way;
This child's Arm ours to lean upon
When mortal strength and hope decay.
Our path, erewhile so desolate,
His dear beatitudes adorn;
Earth is a heavenward-opening gate,
Since unto us this Child is born.
His dear beatitudes adorn;
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Since unto us this Child is born.
Born unto us, who vainly seek
The fair ideal of our dreams
Among its mockeries, blurred and weak:
He crowns the manhood He redeems.
The fair ideal of our dreams
Among its mockeries, blurred and weak:
He crowns the manhood He redeems.
To us, who trust that men will grow
Grander than thought or guess of ours,
When this pure Life through theirs shall flow,
This Health divine stir all their powers.
Grander than thought or guess of ours,
When this pure Life through theirs shall flow,
This Health divine stir all their powers.
O Hebrew maiden, even to us,
Thy sisters, scattered over earth,
God sent this Infant glorious,
This one celestial, human birth.
Thy sisters, scattered over earth,
God sent this Infant glorious,
This one celestial, human birth.
What were our poor lives worth, if thence
Flowered forth no world-perfuming good,
No love-growth of Omnipotence?
The childless share thy motherhood.
Flowered forth no world-perfuming good,
No love-growth of Omnipotence?
The childless share thy motherhood.
All holy thoughts, all prayer and praise,
Wherewith our Christ hath made life sweet,
Through us undying voices raise,
One Name—His Father's—to repeat.
Wherewith our Christ hath made life sweet,
Through us undying voices raise,
One Name—His Father's—to repeat.
Breathe, weary women everywhere,
The freshness of this Heavenly morn!
The blessing that He is, we share;
For unto us this Child is born!
The freshness of this Heavenly morn!
The blessing that He is, we share;
For unto us this Child is born!
GLIMPSES.
Life comes to us only by glimpses;
We see it not yet as a whole,
For the vapor, the cloud, and the shadow
That over it surging roll;
For the dimness of mortal vision,
That mingles the false with the true:
Yet its innermost, fathomless meaning
Is never quite hidden from view.
We see it not yet as a whole,
For the vapor, the cloud, and the shadow
That over it surging roll;
For the dimness of mortal vision,
That mingles the false with the true:
Yet its innermost, fathomless meaning
Is never quite hidden from view.
The hills lift aloft the glad secret;
It is breathed by the whispering leaves;
The rivers repeat it in music;
The sea with its harmony heaves;
The secret of that living gospel
Which freshened the veins of the earth,
When Love, named in heaven the Redeemer,
Was revealed in a human birth.
It is breathed by the whispering leaves;
The rivers repeat it in music;
The sea with its harmony heaves;
The secret of that living gospel
Which freshened the veins of the earth,
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Was revealed in a human birth.
Life shows us its grandeur by glimpses;
For what is this wondrous To-Day
But a rift in the mist-muffled vastness
Of surrounding eternity?
One law for this hour and far futures;
One light on the distant and near;
The bliss of the boundless hereafter
Pulses into the brief moments here.
For what is this wondrous To-Day
But a rift in the mist-muffled vastness
Of surrounding eternity?
One law for this hour and far futures;
One light on the distant and near;
The bliss of the boundless hereafter
Pulses into the brief moments here.
The secret of life,—it is giving;
To minister and to serve;
Love's law binds the man to the angel,
And ruin befalls, if we swerve.
There are breadths of celestial horizons
Overhanging the commonest way;
The clod and the star share the glory,
And to breathe is an ecstasy.
To minister and to serve;
Love's law binds the man to the angel,
And ruin befalls, if we swerve.
There are breadths of celestial horizons
Overhanging the commonest way;
The clod and the star share the glory,
And to breathe is an ecstasy.
Life dawns on us, wakes us, by glimpses;
In heaven there is opened a door:—
That flash lit up vistas eternal;
The dead are the living once more!
To illumine the scroll of creation,
One swift, sudden vision sufficed:
Every riddle of life worth the reading
Has found its interpreter—Christ!
In heaven there is opened a door:—
That flash lit up vistas eternal;
The dead are the living once more!
To illumine the scroll of creation,
One swift, sudden vision sufficed:
Every riddle of life worth the reading
Has found its interpreter—Christ!
WORK IN HEAVEN.
Surely there must be work to do in heaven,
Since work is the best thing on earth we know:
Life were but tasteless bread without this leaven,
A draught from some dead river's overflow.
Since work is the best thing on earth we know:
Life were but tasteless bread without this leaven,
A draught from some dead river's overflow.
What is it we look forward to with longing,
In the hereafter? Couches, banquets, rest?
All our old pleasures round about us thronging?
A soft seat for ourselves, among the blest?
In the hereafter? Couches, banquets, rest?
All our old pleasures round about us thronging?
A soft seat for ourselves, among the blest?
Would these content us now? How then forever?
By seraph and by saint God's will is done:
There is no heaven, save in the soul's endeavor
To do His will, while endless ages run.
By seraph and by saint God's will is done:
There is no heaven, save in the soul's endeavor
To do His will, while endless ages run.
Work may be drudgery; it is so only
When we leave God out of the task He gives,
Or choose our own, apart from Him,—a lonely
Treadmill of selfishness, where no joy lives.
When we leave God out of the task He gives,
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Treadmill of selfishness, where no joy lives.
Days we recall of dreariest melancholy,
When we sat idle, folding listless hands;
But Duty roused us from that trance of folly,
And Life dawned on us in Love's dear commands.
When we sat idle, folding listless hands;
But Duty roused us from that trance of folly,
And Life dawned on us in Love's dear commands.
There must be work for us to do in heaven,
Else that were a less blessèd place than this:
The worthiest impulse to our earth-life given
Must still be felt, amid celestial bliss.
Else that were a less blessèd place than this:
The worthiest impulse to our earth-life given
Must still be felt, amid celestial bliss.
Great voices call to labor. “Lo, my Father
Works, and I work with Him,” the Master said:
Are we His servants, then, if we would rather
In easier pathways than He chose, be led?
Works, and I work with Him,” the Master said:
Are we His servants, then, if we would rather
In easier pathways than He chose, be led?
“Yet heaven is love.” Ay, but in heavenly places
Love will mean something more than sitting still
And looking into one another's faces,
To say, “I love you,” as earth's fond ones will.
Love will mean something more than sitting still
And looking into one another's faces,
To say, “I love you,” as earth's fond ones will.
Even here, love wearies of its low expression;
It longs to strike some nobler anthem-chord;
The heart is deadened, finds but retrogression,
In iteration of the sweetest word.
It longs to strike some nobler anthem-chord;
The heart is deadened, finds but retrogression,
In iteration of the sweetest word.
None asks there, “Am I loved?” His heart's outpouring
Falls back like dew from all the heavens on him
Who, laden with God's gifts, moves on adoring,
Mate of archangels and of seraphim.
Falls back like dew from all the heavens on him
Who, laden with God's gifts, moves on adoring,
Mate of archangels and of seraphim.
Work is the holiest thing in earth or heaven:
To lift from souls the sorrow and the curse,—
This dear employment must to us be given,
While there is want in God's great universe.
To lift from souls the sorrow and the curse,—
This dear employment must to us be given,
While there is want in God's great universe.
And might there come at last a termination
Of ills that now bewilder and oppress,
Doubtless there would arise some new creation
To meet the hunger of our hearts to bless.
Of ills that now bewilder and oppress,
Doubtless there would arise some new creation
To meet the hunger of our hearts to bless.
No blot of sin might sully those fresh pages;
Yet should we feel our souls fledge unguessed powers,
Learning, through flight on flight of timeless ages,
To love God's last-born worlds as He loved ours.
Yet should we feel our souls fledge unguessed powers,
Learning, through flight on flight of timeless ages,
To love God's last-born worlds as He loved ours.
315
IMMORTAL.
Into the heaven of Thy heart, O God,
I lift up my life, like a flower;
Thy light is deep, and Thy love is broad,
And I am not the child of an hour.
I lift up my life, like a flower;
Thy light is deep, and Thy love is broad,
And I am not the child of an hour.
As a little blossom is fed from the whole
Vast depth of unfathomed air,
Through every fibre of thought my soul
Reaches forth, in Thyself to share.
Vast depth of unfathomed air,
Through every fibre of thought my soul
Reaches forth, in Thyself to share.
I dare to say unto Thee, my God,
Who hast made me to climb so high,
That I shall not crumble away with the clod
I am Thine, and I cannot die!
Who hast made me to climb so high,
That I shall not crumble away with the clod
I am Thine, and I cannot die!
The throb of Thy infinite life I feel
In every beat of my heart;
Upon me hast Thou set eternity's seal;
Forever alive, as Thou art.
In every beat of my heart;
Upon me hast Thou set eternity's seal;
Forever alive, as Thou art.
I know not Thy mystery, O my God,
Nor yet what my own life means,
That feels after Thee, through the mould and the sod,
And the darkness that intervenes.
Nor yet what my own life means,
That feels after Thee, through the mould and the sod,
And the darkness that intervenes.
But I know that I live, since I hate the wrong,
The glory of truth can see;
Can cling to the right with a purpose strong,
Can love and can will with Thee.
The glory of truth can see;
Can cling to the right with a purpose strong,
Can love and can will with Thee.
And I feel Thee through other lives, my God,
That into Thyself have grown,
And are filled with the sweetness of Thine abode,
With the light that is all Thine own.
That into Thyself have grown,
And are filled with the sweetness of Thine abode,
With the light that is all Thine own.
Because I have known the human heart
And its heavenly tenderness,
I am sure that Thou with Thy children art:
They bless me as Thou dost bless.
And its heavenly tenderness,
I am sure that Thou with Thy children art:
They bless me as Thou dost bless.
Shall I doubt Thy breath which I breathe, my God?
Shall I reason myself into dust?
Thy Word flows fresh through the earth abroad;
My soul unto Thee I trust!
Shall I reason myself into dust?
Thy Word flows fresh through the earth abroad;
My soul unto Thee I trust!
Thou hast entered into humanity,
And hast made it, like Thee, divine;
And the grave and corruption it shall not see,
This Holy One that is Thine!
And hast made it, like Thee, divine;
And the grave and corruption it shall not see,
This Holy One that is Thine!
316
THE PROOF.
Impossible,—the eagle's flight!
A body lift itself in air?
Yet see, he soars away from sight!—
Can mortals with the immortal share?
To argue it were wordy strife;
Life only is the proof of life.
A body lift itself in air?
Yet see, he soars away from sight!—
Can mortals with the immortal share?
To argue it were wordy strife;
Life only is the proof of life.
Duration, circumstances, things,—
These measure not the eternal state:
Ah, cease from thy vain questionings
Whether an after-life await!
Rise thou from self to God, and see
That immortality must be!
These measure not the eternal state:
Ah, cease from thy vain questionings
Whether an after-life await!
Rise thou from self to God, and see
That immortality must be!
BY EDEN-STREAMS.
There was a stirring in the trees of heaven,
The reflex of a face upon the stream
Along whose brim I sought the lambs at even,
To lead them home beside its crystal gleam.
The reflex of a face upon the stream
Along whose brim I sought the lambs at even,
To lead them home beside its crystal gleam.
This lovely work the dear Lord gave to me;
His lambs—the little children—were my care:
I knew thine eyes; I looked up, and saw thee,
Changed but as I was changed,—for nothing there
His lambs—the little children—were my care:
I knew thine eyes; I looked up, and saw thee,
Changed but as I was changed,—for nothing there
Remains to hurt, or chill, or separate,
Where truth alone survives, and heart reads heart:
Thou from afar beyond heaven's outmost gate
Wert bringing back some glorious mission's chart.
Where truth alone survives, and heart reads heart:
Thou from afar beyond heaven's outmost gate
Wert bringing back some glorious mission's chart.
To see thee seemed so natural, so sweet!
And, lingering there, we talked of yesterday,
And of the pleasant friends we used to meet,
Working and singing, on the homeward way.
And, lingering there, we talked of yesterday,
And of the pleasant friends we used to meet,
Working and singing, on the homeward way.
Scarcely it seemed that we had loosened hands,
Since the glad moment when at first we met,
And knew our kinship, 'mid the dim green lands
Of our fair earth, in heaven remembered yet.
Since the glad moment when at first we met,
And knew our kinship, 'mid the dim green lands
Of our fair earth, in heaven remembered yet.
Each questioned, “Hast thou lately hither sped?
Younger than yesterday thy face appears.”
“Dear deathless ones,” a passing angel said,
“Since you left earth, time counts a thousand years.”
Younger than yesterday thy face appears.”
“Dear deathless ones,” a passing angel said,
“Since you left earth, time counts a thousand years.”
317
ELIZABETH.
A white stone glimmers through the firs,
The dry grass on her grave-mound stirs;
The sunshine scarcely warms the skies;
Pale cloudlets fleck the chilly blue;
The dawn brings frost instead of dew
To the bleak hillside where she lies.
The dry grass on her grave-mound stirs;
The sunshine scarcely warms the skies;
Pale cloudlets fleck the chilly blue;
The dawn brings frost instead of dew
To the bleak hillside where she lies.
'T is something to be near the place
Where earth conceals her dear, dead face;—
But thou, true heart, thou art not there!
Where now thou art beloved and known,
Love makes a climate of its own;
Perpetual summer in the air.
Where earth conceals her dear, dead face;—
But thou, true heart, thou art not there!
Where now thou art beloved and known,
Love makes a climate of its own;
Perpetual summer in the air.
The language of that neighboring land
Already thou didst understand,
Already breathe its healthful breath,
Before thy feet its shores had pressed;
There wert thou an awaited guest,
At home in heaven, Elizabeth!
Already thou didst understand,
Already breathe its healthful breath,
Before thy feet its shores had pressed;
There wert thou an awaited guest,
At home in heaven, Elizabeth!
I try to guess what radiance now
Is resting on that gentle brow,
Lovelier than shone upon it here;
What heavenly work thou hast begun,
What new, immortal friendships won,
That make the life unseen so dear.
Is resting on that gentle brow,
Lovelier than shone upon it here;
What heavenly work thou hast begun,
What new, immortal friendships won,
That make the life unseen so dear.
I cannot think that any change
Could ever thy sweet soul estrange
From the familiar human ties;
Thou art the same, though inmost heaven
Its wisdom to thy thought has given,
Its beauty kindled in thine eyes.
Could ever thy sweet soul estrange
From the familiar human ties;
Thou art the same, though inmost heaven
Its wisdom to thy thought has given,
Its beauty kindled in thine eyes.
The same to us, as warm, as true,
Whatever beautiful or new
With thy unhindered growth may blend:
Here, as life broadens, love expands;
How must it bloom in those free lands
Where thou dost walk, belovèd friend!
Whatever beautiful or new
With thy unhindered growth may blend:
Here, as life broadens, love expands;
How must it bloom in those free lands
Where thou dost walk, belovèd friend!
I do not know what death may mean;
No gates can ever shut between
True heart and heart, Elizabeth;
'T is but to step from time's rude strife
A little farther into life,
And there thou art, Elizabeth!
No gates can ever shut between
True heart and heart, Elizabeth;
'T is but to step from time's rude strife
A little farther into life,
And there thou art, Elizabeth!
Amesbury, Mass., December, 1883.
318
GOD BLESS YOU!
It was but a brief “God bless you!”
As hand lay in hand, a word
By pilgrim spoken to pilgrim;
But its hidden promise they heard.
As hand lay in hand, a word
By pilgrim spoken to pilgrim;
But its hidden promise they heard.
And so close, in that benediction,
Drew heart unto kindred heart,
Though their feet took opposite pathways,
They knew that they should not part.
Drew heart unto kindred heart,
Though their feet took opposite pathways,
They knew that they should not part.
By the truth that they loved and lived for,
By the work that they meant to share,
They knew they were friends forever:
They had met, soul with soul, in a prayer.
By the work that they meant to share,
They knew they were friends forever:
They had met, soul with soul, in a prayer.
They said, in that low “God bless you!”
Whatever one spirit could say
To another, as each departed
On a separate, untried way.
Whatever one spirit could say
To another, as each departed
On a separate, untried way.
But because the way is eternal,
And because no spirit in vain
Can breathe on another God's blessing,
Those pilgrims will meet again.
And because no spirit in vain
Can breathe on another God's blessing,
Those pilgrims will meet again.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |