University of Virginia Library

'T was Sabbath; and, with clang on clang,
A deafening crash of church bells rang:
The day for penance and for dole,
For sackcloth and an ashen soul—
So had my childhood learned in fear.
And forth I fared, with mood severe,
Clad in my soberest and best,
With God's own world to keep his Rest.
Through orchard, field, and wood I paced,
Rasping a dry thought, solemn-faced.
But suddenly, “What is this?” I thought;
“Does Earth keep Sabbath as she ought?”
And looking round about, I sought
Some comrade with me, on my way,
In woeful weeds to drape the day.
—All nature given o'er to glee!
No psalms, no dirge, no minor key;
Each grass-blade nodding to the rest,
As one who knows a hidden jest;
The thrush still hurrying, loud and gay,
To find the lost thread of his lay;
And chasing, as he flies along,
The fleeing ripple of his song,
The giddy bluebird flits and sings—
A bit of azure sky on wings.
Down the tree-trunks the shadows trace
The tremble of their dancing lace;
The drifting apple-blossoms meek
Brush their white kisses by my cheek;
The bobolink bubbles o'er with glee
In tumbling, headlong melody;
And from the catbird's hedge is sent
His quick, low chuckle of content.

In all that choral symphony
Of flower, and bird, and waving tree,
And happy sky, and laughing sun,
I found in holy woe not one.
—Save only, through the churchyard gloom
Returning, at a new-made tomb
A bitter mourner, black-arrayed,
Whom fools in robes had faithless made,
Wept the lost angel he had wed
As though her soul—and God—were dead.
Him only; and, as evening fell,
An owl, that sought some mate as well,
Was hooting from his hollow tree—
“Will none be doleful now with me,
Will none with me sad penance do?”
And still he hooted: “Who?—who, who?”