 | Later Lyrics |  |
58
LYRICS OF THE STREET.
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THE FINE LADY.
Her heart is set on folly,
An amber gathering straws:
She courts each poor occurrence,
Heeds not the heavenly laws.
Pity her!
An amber gathering straws:
She courts each poor occurrence,
Heeds not the heavenly laws.
Pity her!
She has a little beauty,
And she flaunts it in the day,
While the selfish wrinkles, spreading,
Steal all its charm away.
Pity her!
And she flaunts it in the day,
While the selfish wrinkles, spreading,
Steal all its charm away.
Pity her!
She has a little money,
And she flings it everywhere:
'Tis a gewgaw on her bosom,
A tinsel in her hair.
Pity her!
And she flings it everywhere:
'Tis a gewgaw on her bosom,
A tinsel in her hair.
Pity her!
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She has a little feeling,
She spreads a foolish net
That snares her own weak footsteps,
Not his for whom 'tis set.
Pity her!
She spreads a foolish net
That snares her own weak footsteps,
Not his for whom 'tis set.
Pity her!
Ye harmless household drudges,
Your draggled daily wear
And horny palms of labor
A softer heart may bear.
Pity her!
Your draggled daily wear
And horny palms of labor
A softer heart may bear.
Pity her!
Ye steadfast ones, whose burthens
Weigh valorous shoulders down,
With hands that cannot idle,
And brows that will not frown,
Pity her!
Weigh valorous shoulders down,
With hands that cannot idle,
And brows that will not frown,
Pity her!
Ye saints, whose thoughts are folded
As graciously to rest
As a dove's stainless pinions
Upon her guileless breast,
Pity her!
As graciously to rest
As a dove's stainless pinions
Upon her guileless breast,
Pity her!
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But most, ye helpful angels
That send distress and work,
Hot task and sweating forehead,
To heal man's idle irk,
Pity her!
That send distress and work,
Hot task and sweating forehead,
To heal man's idle irk,
Pity her!
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THE DARKENED HOUSE.
One year ago this dreary night,
This house, that in my way
Checks the swift pulses of delight,
Was cordial glad, and gay.
This house, that in my way
Checks the swift pulses of delight,
Was cordial glad, and gay.
The household angels tended there
Their ivy-cinctured bower,
And by the hardier plant grew fair
A lovely lily-flower.
Their ivy-cinctured bower,
And by the hardier plant grew fair
A lovely lily-flower.
The skies rained sunshine on its head,
It throve in summer air:
“How straight and sound!” the father said;
The mother said, “How fair!”
It throve in summer air:
“How straight and sound!” the father said;
The mother said, “How fair!”
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One little year is gathering up
Its glories to depart;
The skies have left one marble drop
Within the lily's heart.
Its glories to depart;
The skies have left one marble drop
Within the lily's heart.
For growth and bloom no more avails
The Seasons' changing breath:
Fixed in sad constancy, it feels
The sculpture-touch of Death.
The Seasons' changing breath:
Fixed in sad constancy, it feels
The sculpture-touch of Death.
But from its breast let golden rays,
Immortal, break and rise,
Linking the sorrow-clouded days
With dawning paradise.
Immortal, break and rise,
Linking the sorrow-clouded days
With dawning paradise.
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THE OLD MAN'S WALK.
Into the sadness of the winter night
I bear my heart:
Shunning the crowded streets, the glaring light,
I walk apart.
I bear my heart:
Shunning the crowded streets, the glaring light,
I walk apart.
With trembling feet and head astound I go,
With cheeks chill-wet:
I must return unto that house of woe;
I cannot yet.
With cheeks chill-wet:
I must return unto that house of woe;
I cannot yet.
Unhappy words compel me from the hearth
Of love bereft;
Should send me reckless o'er the rolling earth,
With bosom cleft.
Of love bereft;
Should send me reckless o'er the rolling earth,
With bosom cleft.
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O Stranger! ask not why I stray abroad
Thus out of time.
Mine eye has not the furtive glance of fraud,
The leer of crime.
Thus out of time.
Mine eye has not the furtive glance of fraud,
The leer of crime.
Deep Night, within thy gloomy catafalque
Bury my grief;
And, while thy candles light my funeral walk,
Promise relief.
Bury my grief;
And, while thy candles light my funeral walk,
Promise relief.
Let lightsome spirits that outwatch thy reign,
Dawn's sentinels,
Shed golden balsam for the sons of pain
In prison cells.
Dawn's sentinels,
Shed golden balsam for the sons of pain
In prison cells.
“Ave,” I hear the pitying angels say;
From depths they call;
“Through all Grief's multitude Heaven makes a way.”
Heaven rest us all!
From depths they call;
“Through all Grief's multitude Heaven makes a way.”
Heaven rest us all!
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AT A CORNER.
Here should I meet you, here only, recalling
The soul-drunken look you vouchsafed me one day,
That, like a spark in some hidden mine falling,
Shook my frail senses, and swept me away.
The soul-drunken look you vouchsafed me one day,
That, like a spark in some hidden mine falling,
Shook my frail senses, and swept me away.
What did that look portend? dark was its meaning,
Faded in tears the swift gleam of delight;
Ask the deep thoughts of eternity's screening,
Ask the wide stars in the bosom of night.
Faded in tears the swift gleam of delight;
Ask the deep thoughts of eternity's screening,
Ask the wide stars in the bosom of night.
Like some winged Seraphim, never descending,
That for a moment unveils to our view:
Sudden its ravishment, bitter its ending;
Love flashed a promise that Life never knew.
That for a moment unveils to our view:
Sudden its ravishment, bitter its ending;
Love flashed a promise that Life never knew.
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THE BLACK COACH.
In the black coach you must ride,—
You, so dainty once a time.
We who saw your bloom of pride,
Stifle now the crop of crime,
Lest its poisonous, fruitful birth
Scatter monsters o'er the earth.
You, so dainty once a time.
We who saw your bloom of pride,
Stifle now the crop of crime,
Lest its poisonous, fruitful birth
Scatter monsters o'er the earth.
She had holidays as gay
As the highest you have known,
Lady, flitting fast away,
With your chariot for a throne.
Wild-flowers for a moment please
In the hands of pampered ease.
As the highest you have known,
Lady, flitting fast away,
With your chariot for a throne.
Wild-flowers for a moment please
In the hands of pampered ease.
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Lifted, like a summer treasure
In a golden goblet placed,
To decline in mournful leisure,
Scorned, untended, and disgraced;
With the meadow yet in sight
Where the daisies glisten white.
In a golden goblet placed,
To decline in mournful leisure,
Scorned, untended, and disgraced;
With the meadow yet in sight
Where the daisies glisten white.
Come, a carriage blacker still,
Narrowed to the form you bear;
Bring the last of good and ill;
Take the leavings of despair.
Death's cold purity condense
Vaporous sin to soul's intense.
Narrowed to the form you bear;
Bring the last of good and ill;
Take the leavings of despair.
Death's cold purity condense
Vaporous sin to soul's intense.
Ere the prison-gates unswing,
Let the spirit portals ope;
While the Winter holds the Spring
Shall the grave-mound cover hope;
Come the pang that ends all woe,
God can better pardon so.
Let the spirit portals ope;
While the Winter holds the Spring
Shall the grave-mound cover hope;
Come the pang that ends all woe,
God can better pardon so.
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PLAY.
From yon den of double-dealing
With its Devil's host,
Come I, maddened out of healing.
All is lost.
With its Devil's host,
Come I, maddened out of healing.
All is lost.
So the false wine cannot blind me,
Nor the braggart toast,
But I know that Hell doth bind me;
All is lost.
Nor the braggart toast,
But I know that Hell doth bind me;
All is lost.
Where the lavish gain attracts us,
And the easy cost,
While the damning dicer backs us,
All is lost.
And the easy cost,
While the damning dicer backs us,
All is lost.
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Blest the rustic in his furrows,
Toil and sweat-embossed;
Blest are honest souls in sorrows:
All is lost.
Toil and sweat-embossed;
Blest are honest souls in sorrows:
All is lost.
Wifely love, the closer clinging
When men need thee most,
Shall I come, dishonor bringing?
All is lost.
When men need thee most,
Shall I come, dishonor bringing?
All is lost.
Babe in silken cradle lying,
To low music tossed,
Will they wake thee for my dying?
All is lost.
To low music tossed,
Will they wake thee for my dying?
All is lost.
Yonder, where the river grimly
Whitens like a ghost,
Must I plunge and perish dimly:
All is lost.
Whitens like a ghost,
Must I plunge and perish dimly:
All is lost.
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THE LOST JEWEL.
Cast on the turbid current of the street,
My pearl doth swim;
Oh for the diver's cunning hands and feet
To come to him!
My pearl doth swim;
Oh for the diver's cunning hands and feet
To come to him!
No: I'll not seek the madness of thine eyes,
Since, day by day,
Life brings its noiseless blessings from the skies;
For which we pray.
Since, day by day,
Life brings its noiseless blessings from the skies;
For which we pray.
While patient Duty, helped of heavenly Art,
Her way pursues,
And holy loves re-edify the heart
The passions use.
Her way pursues,
And holy loves re-edify the heart
The passions use.
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God's hand can bring unheard-of gifts to light
From Fate's deep sea;
Has pearls enough to recompense the right,
Only not thee.
From Fate's deep sea;
Has pearls enough to recompense the right,
Only not thee.
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OUTSIDE THE PARTY.
Thick throng the snow-flakes, the evening is dreary,
Glad rings the music in yonder gay hall;
On her who listens here, friendless and weary,
Heavier chill than the winter's doth fall.
Glad rings the music in yonder gay hall;
On her who listens here, friendless and weary,
Heavier chill than the winter's doth fall.
At yon clear window, light-opened before me,
Glances the face I have worshipped so well:
There's the fine gentleman, grand in his glory;
There, the fair smile by whose sweetness I fell.
Glances the face I have worshipped so well:
There's the fine gentleman, grand in his glory;
There, the fair smile by whose sweetness I fell.
This is akin to him, shunned and forsaken,
That at my bosom sobs low, without bread;
Had not such pleading my marble heart shaken,
I had been quiet, long since, with the dead.
That at my bosom sobs low, without bread;
Had not such pleading my marble heart shaken,
I had been quiet, long since, with the dead.
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Oh! could I enter there, ghastly and squalid,
Stand in men's eyes with my spirit o'erborne,
Show them where roses bloomed, crushed now and pallid,
What he found innocent, leaving forlorn,—
Stand in men's eyes with my spirit o'erborne,
Show them where roses bloomed, crushed now and pallid,
What he found innocent, leaving forlorn,—
How the fair ladies would fail from their dances,
Trembling, aghast at my horrible tale!
How would he shrink from my words and my glances!
How would they shrink from him, swooning and pale!
Trembling, aghast at my horrible tale!
How would he shrink from my words and my glances!
How would they shrink from him, swooning and pale!
This is the hair that was soft to enchain him;
Snakelike, it snarls on my beautiless brow:
These are the hands that were fond to detain him
With a sense-magic then, powerless now!
Snakelike, it snarls on my beautiless brow:
These are the hands that were fond to detain him
With a sense-magic then, powerless now!
No: could I come, like a ghost, to affright him,
How should that heal my wound, silence my pain?
Had I the wrath of God's lightning to smite him,
That could not bring me my lost peace again.
How should that heal my wound, silence my pain?
Had I the wrath of God's lightning to smite him,
That could not bring me my lost peace again.
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Ne'er let him grieve while good fortunes betide him,
Ne'er count again the poor game lost of old;
When he comes forth, with his young bride beside him,
Here shall they find us both, dead in the cold.
Ne'er count again the poor game lost of old;
When he comes forth, with his young bride beside him,
Here shall they find us both, dead in the cold.
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THE SOUL-HUNTER.
Who hunts so late 'neath evening skies,
A smouldering love-brand in his eyes?
His locks outshame the black of night,
Its stars are duller than his sight
Who hunts so late, so dark.
A smouldering love-brand in his eyes?
His locks outshame the black of night,
Its stars are duller than his sight
Who hunts so late, so dark.
A drooping mantle shrouds his form,
To shield him from the winter's storm?
Or is there something at his side,
That, with himself, he strives to hide,
Who hunts so late, so dark?
To shield him from the winter's storm?
Or is there something at his side,
That, with himself, he strives to hide,
Who hunts so late, so dark?
He hath such promise, silver sweet,
Such silken hands, such fiery feet,
That, where his look has charmed the prey,
His swift-winged passion forces way,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
Such silken hands, such fiery feet,
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His swift-winged passion forces way,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
Sure no one underneath the moon
Can whisper to so soft a tune:
The hours would flit from dusk to dawn
Lighter than dews upon the lawn
With him, so late, so dark.
Can whisper to so soft a tune:
The hours would flit from dusk to dawn
Lighter than dews upon the lawn
With him, so late, so dark.
But, should there break a day of need,
Those hands will try no valorous deed:
No help is in that sable crest,
Nor manhood in that hollow breast
That sighed so late, so dark.
Those hands will try no valorous deed:
No help is in that sable crest,
Nor manhood in that hollow breast
That sighed so late, so dark.
O maiden! of the salt waves make
Thy sinless shroud, for God's dear sake;
Or to the flame commit thy bloom;
Or lock thee, living, in the tomb
So desolate and dark,—
Thy sinless shroud, for God's dear sake;
Or to the flame commit thy bloom;
Or lock thee, living, in the tomb
So desolate and dark,—
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Before thou list one stolen word
Of him who lures thee like a bird.
He wanders with the Devil's bait,
For human souls he lies in wait,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
Of him who lures thee like a bird.
He wanders with the Devil's bait,
For human souls he lies in wait,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
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STREET YARN.
Roses caged in windows, heighten
Your faint blooms to-day;
Silks and sheeny satins, brighten;
He has passed this way!
Your faint blooms to-day;
Silks and sheeny satins, brighten;
He has passed this way!
Could ye keep his fleeting presence
Gone beyond recall,
But a little of his essence,
I would have you all.
Gone beyond recall,
But a little of his essence,
I would have you all.
Arabesque so quaint and shady,
That mightst catch his eye
To adorn a stately lady
Ere her hour went by,
That mightst catch his eye
To adorn a stately lady
Ere her hour went by,
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Canst assure me that his glancing
Rested on thy fold?
Did that set your purples dancing?
Wake the sleepy gold?
Rested on thy fold?
Did that set your purples dancing?
Wake the sleepy gold?
Ye neglected apple-venders
Mouldering in the street,
Did he curse between your tenders,
Spurning with his feet?
Mouldering in the street,
Did he curse between your tenders,
Spurning with his feet?
Then must I an alms deliver
For his graceless pride;
Could I buy his sins forever,
I'd not be denied.
For his graceless pride;
Could I buy his sins forever,
I'd not be denied.
Paying patiently his ransom
Never conscience-pricked;
Cheating Justice of her handsome
Heartless derelict.
Never conscience-pricked;
Cheating Justice of her handsome
Heartless derelict.
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Did he view thee, ancient steeple,
With thy weird clock-face,
Frowning down on sinful people
Passing out of grace?
With thy weird clock-face,
Frowning down on sinful people
Passing out of grace?
Nay, respond not to my question
With thy prate of time:
Things to which my soul must hasten
Lie beyond thy chime.
With thy prate of time:
Things to which my soul must hasten
Lie beyond thy chime.
With no circumstance to screen us,
We must meet again:
I shall bid God judge between us,
Answering Amen.
We must meet again:
I shall bid God judge between us,
Answering Amen.
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