 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
HINTS.
Sweet Nature, speak to me!
I have been listening so long, so long!
The goldfinch round the linden winds his song:
A spangled butterfly just flew this way,
And stopped as if he had some word to say;
The water-lily's leaves are half apart,
Pale with some secret hidden in her heart.
I hear, but yet the inner sense is sealed;
For me there is a mystery unrevealed:
Sweet Nature, speak to me!
I have been listening so long, so long!
The goldfinch round the linden winds his song:
A spangled butterfly just flew this way,
And stopped as if he had some word to say;
The water-lily's leaves are half apart,
Pale with some secret hidden in her heart.
I hear, but yet the inner sense is sealed;
For me there is a mystery unrevealed:
Sweet Nature, speak to me!
Dear Book of Mystery,
Whose leaves a breeze of June is turning o'er,
To show me one forgotten word the more,
The living truths upon thy page are dry
As last year's violets that beside them lie:
The pastures green, the waters flowing still,
The shepherds' watch on Bethlehem's moonlit hill,
Are but as tales of any common book:
Where is the light by which my soul should look,
Dear Book of Mystery?
Whose leaves a breeze of June is turning o'er,
To show me one forgotten word the more,
The living truths upon thy page are dry
As last year's violets that beside them lie:
The pastures green, the waters flowing still,
The shepherds' watch on Bethlehem's moonlit hill,
40
Where is the light by which my soul should look,
Dear Book of Mystery?
Love is both eye and ear.
When like the west wind breathes my longing prayer,
Pausing the need of humblest hearts to share,
Then will sweet parables unfold their sense,
And Nature speak with all her eloquence.
Let the heart stagnate o'er its selfish dreams,
And life a veiled and silent statue seems:
Leaning upon the bosom of the Lord,
Love hears the lightest whisper of His word:
Love is both eye and ear.
When like the west wind breathes my longing prayer,
Pausing the need of humblest hearts to share,
Then will sweet parables unfold their sense,
And Nature speak with all her eloquence.
Let the heart stagnate o'er its selfish dreams,
And life a veiled and silent statue seems:
Leaning upon the bosom of the Lord,
Love hears the lightest whisper of His word:
Love is both eye and ear.
The grace of the bending grasses,
The flush of the dawn-lit sky,
The scent that lingers and passes
When the loitering wind goes by,
Are gushes and hints of sweetness,
From the unseen deeps afar,—
The foam-edge of heaven's completeness
Swept outward through flower and star.
The flush of the dawn-lit sky,
The scent that lingers and passes
When the loitering wind goes by,
Are gushes and hints of sweetness,
From the unseen deeps afar,—
The foam-edge of heaven's completeness
Swept outward through flower and star.
For the cloud, and the leaf, and the blossom,
The shadow, the flickering beam,
Are waifs on the sea-like bosom
Of beauty beyond our dream:
Its glow to our earth is given;
It freshens this lower air:
Oh, the fathomless wells of heaven,—
The springs of the earth rise there!
The shadow, the flickering beam,
Are waifs on the sea-like bosom
Of beauty beyond our dream:
Its glow to our earth is given;
It freshens this lower air:
Oh, the fathomless wells of heaven,—
The springs of the earth rise there!
They whose hearts are whole and strong,
Loving holiness,
Living clean from soil of wrong,
Wearing truth's white dress,—
They unto no far-off height
Wearily need climb;
Heaven to them is close in sight
From these shores of time.
Loving holiness,
Living clean from soil of wrong,
Wearing truth's white dress,—
They unto no far-off height
Wearily need climb;
Heaven to them is close in sight
From these shores of time.
Only the anointed eye
Sees in common things,—
Gleam of wave, and tint of sky,—
Heavenly blossomings.
To the hearts where light has birth
Nothing can be drear;
Budding through the bloom of earth,
Heaven is always near.
Sees in common things,—
Gleam of wave, and tint of sky,—
Heavenly blossomings.
To the hearts where light has birth
Nothing can be drear;
Budding through the bloom of earth,
Heaven is always near.
41
“Take the fruit I give you,” says the bending tree;
“Nothing but a burden is it all to me.
Lighten ye my branches; let them toss in air!
Only leave me freedom next year's load to bear.”
“Nothing but a burden is it all to me.
Lighten ye my branches; let them toss in air!
Only leave me freedom next year's load to bear.”
“Do my waters cheer thee,” says the gurgling spring,
“With the crystal coolness 't is their life to bring?
Leave me not to stagnate, creeping o'er the plain;
Drink for thy refreshment; drink, and come again!”
“With the crystal coolness 't is their life to bring?
Leave me not to stagnate, creeping o'er the plain;
Drink for thy refreshment; drink, and come again!”
“Can I yield you blessings?” says the friendly heart.
“Fear not I am poorer, though I much impart.
Wherefore should you thank me? giving is my need:
Love that wrought none comfort sorrow were indeed.”
“Fear not I am poorer, though I much impart.
Wherefore should you thank me? giving is my need:
Love that wrought none comfort sorrow were indeed.”
The curtain of the dark
Is pierced by many a rent.
Out of the star-wells, spark on spark
Trickles through night's torn tent.
Is pierced by many a rent.
Out of the star-wells, spark on spark
Trickles through night's torn tent.
Grief is a tattered tent
Wherethrough God's light doth shine:
Who glances up, at every rent
Shall catch a ray divine.
Wherethrough God's light doth shine:
Who glances up, at every rent
Shall catch a ray divine.
Thou mayst not rest in any lovely thing,
Thou, who wert formed to seek and to aspire;
For no fulfillment of thy dreams can bring
The answer to thy measureless desire.
Thou, who wert formed to seek and to aspire;
For no fulfillment of thy dreams can bring
The answer to thy measureless desire.
The beauty of the round, green world is not
Of the world's essence; far within the sky
The tints which make this bubble bright are wrought:
The bubble bursts; the light can never die.
Of the world's essence; far within the sky
The tints which make this bubble bright are wrought:
The bubble bursts; the light can never die.
Thou canst not make a pillow for thy head
Of anything so brittle and so frail;
Yet mayst thou by its transient glow be led
Into the heaven where sun and star grow pale;
Of anything so brittle and so frail;
Yet mayst thou by its transient glow be led
Into the heaven where sun and star grow pale;
Where, out of burning whiteness, flows the light;
Light, which is but the visible stream of love;
Hope's ladder, brightening upward through the night,
Whereon our feet grow wingèd as they move.
Light, which is but the visible stream of love;
Hope's ladder, brightening upward through the night,
Whereon our feet grow wingèd as they move.
Let beauty sink in light; in central deeps
Of love unseen let dearest eyes grow dim:
They draw us after, up the infinite steeps
Where souls familiar track the seraphim.
Of love unseen let dearest eyes grow dim:
They draw us after, up the infinite steeps
Where souls familiar track the seraphim.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |