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HER VERSES.—A LYRICAL ROMANCE.
THE LEGACY.
Her verses,—where she lies
The tall trees bend and whisper;
Soft voices from the skies
Recall the tuneful lisper:
The sunny nooks she loved,
Her flower-beds untended,
Afflict us with neglect,
Like fair things ill-befriended.
The tall trees bend and whisper;
Soft voices from the skies
Recall the tuneful lisper:
The sunny nooks she loved,
Her flower-beds untended,
Afflict us with neglect,
Like fair things ill-befriended.
Yet 'tis so merciful
That Time wipes out our traces,
And that the thick-set moss
Grows o'er our darkened faces,
Till but some faithful heart
Our faded traits comprises,
And sorrow, dead in earth,
In harmless beauty rises.
That Time wipes out our traces,
And that the thick-set moss
Grows o'er our darkened faces,
Till but some faithful heart
Our faded traits comprises,
And sorrow, dead in earth,
In harmless beauty rises.
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She had a guileless heart,
And Life was rude to grieve it;
She had a soul of fire,
And Heaven is kind to shrive it:
The years are past that said,
“Keep long this seal unbroken;
But, when my name's forgot,
Then let my words be spoken.”
And Life was rude to grieve it;
She had a soul of fire,
And Heaven is kind to shrive it:
The years are past that said,
“Keep long this seal unbroken;
But, when my name's forgot,
Then let my words be spoken.”
So, standing at her grave,
With trembling hands I gather
The blossoms of her life,
Bedimmed with rust and weather.
O World! while thus I wave
Her dead hand's blessing o'er thee,
Think 'tis my other self
Whose heart lies bare before thee.
With trembling hands I gather
The blossoms of her life,
Bedimmed with rust and weather.
O World! while thus I wave
Her dead hand's blessing o'er thee,
Think 'tis my other self
Whose heart lies bare before thee.
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BLUSHES.
I cannot make him know my love;
Nor from myself conceal
The pangs that rankle in my breast,
Sharper than flame or steel.
Nor from myself conceal
The pangs that rankle in my breast,
Sharper than flame or steel.
Could I but reach a hand to him,
My very finger's thrill
Would close, like tendrils, round the strength
Of his belovèd will.
My very finger's thrill
Would close, like tendrils, round the strength
Of his belovèd will.
Could I but lift mine eyes to his,
My glowing soul, unrolled,
Would flash like sunset on his sight,
In fiery red and gold.
My glowing soul, unrolled,
Would flash like sunset on his sight,
In fiery red and gold.
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Yet pause, my unflecked soul, and think
How vexed Penelope
Forsook her nuptial joy, that love
Should wait on modesty.
How vexed Penelope
Forsook her nuptial joy, that love
Should wait on modesty.
For gentle souls must keep their bounds,
Nor rudely snatch at bliss:
The very sun should lose his light
In giving it amiss.
Nor rudely snatch at bliss:
The very sun should lose his light
In giving it amiss.
So, when I die, cross tenderly
My palms upon my breast,
And let some faithful hand compose
My tired limbs to rest.
My palms upon my breast,
And let some faithful hand compose
My tired limbs to rest.
But thou shalt fold this kerchief white,
And lay it on my face,
Saying, “She died of love untold;
But she is dead in grace.”
And lay it on my face,
Saying, “She died of love untold;
But she is dead in grace.”
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WISHES.
I would I might approach thee,
As the moon draws near the cloud,
With still and stately courtesy,
Clear-eyed and solemn-browed;
But, when their meeting comes, her face
In his deep breast doth hide,
The heavens are still, in solemn joy,
The world is glorified.
As the moon draws near the cloud,
With still and stately courtesy,
Clear-eyed and solemn-browed;
But, when their meeting comes, her face
In his deep breast doth hide,
The heavens are still, in solemn joy,
The world is glorified.
I would I might approach thee,
As music, swift afloat,
Surprises, with its sudden joy,
A wanderer in a boat:
The sordid walls of life fall down
Before that clarion clear;
A passing rapture oft recalled
When days grow blank and drear.
As music, swift afloat,
Surprises, with its sudden joy,
A wanderer in a boat:
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Before that clarion clear;
A passing rapture oft recalled
When days grow blank and drear.
I would I might approach thee,
As breezes fresh and pure,
Unsighted, breathe on fevered lips,
And throbbing temples cure;
As Joy and Love, and healthful Hope,
Visit some chosen heart,
And enter, softly welcomed there,
And never more depart.
As breezes fresh and pure,
Unsighted, breathe on fevered lips,
And throbbing temples cure;
As Joy and Love, and healthful Hope,
Visit some chosen heart,
And enter, softly welcomed there,
And never more depart.
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FEARS.
Oh! how shall I grow fair enough
For thee to look upon?
I am but the poor shallow water
That glistens in the sun,
That darkens, mean and beautiless,
When his brief glance moves on.
For thee to look upon?
I am but the poor shallow water
That glistens in the sun,
That darkens, mean and beautiless,
When his brief glance moves on.
Oh! what shall raise me to thy sphere?
How shall my thoughts aspire?
I am the string that warbles to
A poet's touch of fire:
He flings it by,—how dumb and low
Sinks the forgotten lyre!
How shall my thoughts aspire?
I am the string that warbles to
A poet's touch of fire:
He flings it by,—how dumb and low
Sinks the forgotten lyre!
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Remember, then, my humble heart
That trembled with surprise;
Recall the faith that dared to meet
The question of thine eyes:
Shall these not make me dear to thee
Through Love's eternities?
That trembled with surprise;
Recall the faith that dared to meet
The question of thine eyes:
Shall these not make me dear to thee
Through Love's eternities?
107
RESOLVES.
You never knew how cruel kind
Was the caress you gave;
You never meant to light a flame
Should smoulder in my grave.
Was the caress you gave;
You never meant to light a flame
Should smoulder in my grave.
From gentle studies, arts beloved,
My thoughts all fix on thee;
And Peace dissolves before my sight,
And Duty cannot be.
My thoughts all fix on thee;
And Peace dissolves before my sight,
And Duty cannot be.
Oh! speak one word so kindly rude,
So greatly stern and true,
That I may kiss thy feet for shame,
And rise, absolved and new.
So greatly stern and true,
That I may kiss thy feet for shame,
And rise, absolved and new.
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Then with some song of noblest worth
I'll pay this truant rhyme,
And stretch my stolen broidery to
The boundless tasks of Time.
I'll pay this truant rhyme,
And stretch my stolen broidery to
The boundless tasks of Time.
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STUDIES.
Slowly roll the wheels of Science
On the flowery ways of Love:
Clogged with sweets, the cheated pedant
Waits, forgetful of remove.
On the flowery ways of Love:
Clogged with sweets, the cheated pedant
Waits, forgetful of remove.
Or like Icarus aspiring
To the nearness of the sun;
See, the waxen wings are melted,
The ambitious race is run!
To the nearness of the sun;
See, the waxen wings are melted,
The ambitious race is run!
Love has neither past nor future
Till thou break its awful vow;
Neither was nor shall be blessèd:
It is one eternal Now.
Till thou break its awful vow;
Neither was nor shall be blessèd:
It is one eternal Now.
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LATIN.
Here amid shadows, lovingly embracing,
Dropt from above by apple-trees unfruitful,
With a chance scholar, caught and held to help me,
Read I in Horace;
Dropt from above by apple-trees unfruitful,
With a chance scholar, caught and held to help me,
Read I in Horace;
Lost in the figures, lawless in the metrum,
Piecing the classic phrase with homespun English,
Bridging doubtful meanings with such daring fictions
As move his wonder.
Piecing the classic phrase with homespun English,
Bridging doubtful meanings with such daring fictions
As move his wonder.
Dust lay condensed on the covers lexiconic,—
Tacitus above stairs, quasi sub-neglected,
Very little progress since I saw your godship,
Day to be remembered!
Tacitus above stairs, quasi sub-neglected,
Very little progress since I saw your godship,
Day to be remembered!
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Avè, sweet Horace, all thy wonder graces
(Soul of perfection, with a change of rainbows)
Less must delight me than thy fervent nature,
Foremost in friendship.
(Soul of perfection, with a change of rainbows)
Less must delight me than thy fervent nature,
Foremost in friendship.
“We with one bound will pursue the silent journey:
Ibimus, ibimus,—let one urn contain us!”
Which would survive, to choke Love's glowing embers
With Life's gray ashes?
Ibimus, ibimus,—let one urn contain us!”
Which would survive, to choke Love's glowing embers
With Life's gray ashes?
Happy thy Mæcenas! happier thou to praise him,
Twining thy best beauties round the brow thou lovest:
Oh! to nobly name whom the deep heart doth worship
Is a boon most holy.
Twining thy best beauties round the brow thou lovest:
Oh! to nobly name whom the deep heart doth worship
Is a boon most holy.
Yonder by the high-road, from the post-town leading,
Cometh at seasons a worn and dusty carriage:
Two white bony horses, rudely loricated,
Drag it behind them.
Cometh at seasons a worn and dusty carriage:
Two white bony horses, rudely loricated,
Drag it behind them.
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In the carriage mostly come my born relations,
Very keen to see me in the rural season;
Board and bedding gratis, compliments at parting:
“Come again next summer.”
Very keen to see me in the rural season;
Board and bedding gratis, compliments at parting:
“Come again next summer.”
Oh! if one I knew of hastened down the high-road,
Like a heaven-sent angel, present to petition,
Would I sit searching thy disjointed meanings,
Horace the Dainty?
Like a heaven-sent angel, present to petition,
Would I sit searching thy disjointed meanings,
Horace the Dainty?
Should I not then fling far the well-bound volume,
Decent in sheep-skins thou wert never blest with?
For this heart of mine, high leaping, wild rejoicing,
Then would be the poet.
Decent in sheep-skins thou wert never blest with?
For this heart of mine, high leaping, wild rejoicing,
Then would be the poet.
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A DREAM.
A woman came, wearing a veil;
Her features were burning and pale;
At the door of the shrine doth she kneel,
And waileth out, bowing her head,
“Ye men of remembrance and dread,
Exorcise the pangs that I feel.
Her features were burning and pale;
At the door of the shrine doth she kneel,
And waileth out, bowing her head,
“Ye men of remembrance and dread,
Exorcise the pangs that I feel.
A boat that is torn with the tide,
A mountain with flame in its side
That rends its devouring way,
A feather the whirlwind lifts high,
Are not wilder or weaker than I,
Since Love makes my bosom his prey.
A mountain with flame in its side
That rends its devouring way,
A feather the whirlwind lifts high,
Are not wilder or weaker than I,
Since Love makes my bosom his prey.
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Ye Saints, I fall down at your feet;
Thou Virgin, so piteous to greet,
Reach hither the calm of your hands;
Ye statues of power and of art,
Let your marble weight lie on my heart,
Hold my madness with merciful bands.”
Thou Virgin, so piteous to greet,
Reach hither the calm of your hands;
Ye statues of power and of art,
Let your marble weight lie on my heart,
Hold my madness with merciful bands.”
The priest takes his candle and book
With the pity of scorn in his look,
And chants the dull Mass through his teeth;
But the penitent, clasping his knees,
Cries, “Vain as the sough of the breeze
Are thy words to the anguish of death.”
With the pity of scorn in his look,
And chants the dull Mass through his teeth;
But the penitent, clasping his knees,
Cries, “Vain as the sough of the breeze
Are thy words to the anguish of death.”
The priest, with reproval and frown,
Bids the listless attendant reach down
The water that sprinkles from sin.
“Your water is water,” she cries:
“The further its foolishness flies,
The fiercer the flames burn within.”
Bids the listless attendant reach down
The water that sprinkles from sin.
“Your water is water,” she cries:
“The further its foolishness flies,
The fiercer the flames burn within.”
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“Get thee hence to the cell and the scourge!”
The priest in his anger doth urge,
“Or the fire of the stake thou shalt prove,
Maintaining with blasphemous tongue
That the mass-book and censer, high swung,
Cannot cast out the demon of Love.”
The priest in his anger doth urge,
“Or the fire of the stake thou shalt prove,
Maintaining with blasphemous tongue
That the mass-book and censer, high swung,
Cannot cast out the demon of Love.”
Then the Highest stept down from his place,
While the depths of his wonderful face
The thrill of compassion did move:
“Come, hide thee,” he cried, “in this breast;
I summon the weary to rest;
With love I exorcise thy love.”
While the depths of his wonderful face
The thrill of compassion did move:
“Come, hide thee,” he cried, “in this breast;
I summon the weary to rest;
With love I exorcise thy love.”
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WAKING.
Soft as the touch of twilight that restores
The hard-bound earth from summer sweat and strain,
This dream of morning soothed my fevered soul,
And gave me to my gentleness again.
The hard-bound earth from summer sweat and strain,
This dream of morning soothed my fevered soul,
And gave me to my gentleness again.
So, bathed in pearly sweets, I oped mine eyes,
And saw the beauty that the morning paints,
And saw the shadows strengthen in the sun
With the calm willingness of dying saints.
And saw the beauty that the morning paints,
And saw the shadows strengthen in the sun
With the calm willingness of dying saints.
Oh! had I then to passion died, such peace
Had filled my parting as transfigures Death;
But thou didst turn me backward with a word,
And Love celestial fled Love's human breath.
Had filled my parting as transfigures Death;
But thou didst turn me backward with a word,
And Love celestial fled Love's human breath.
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THE SUMMONS.
I expect you in September
With the glory of the year:
You shall make the Autumn precious,
And the death of Summer dear;
You shall help the days that shorten,
With a lengthening of delight;
You shall whisper long-drawn blisses
Through the gathering screen of night.
With the glory of the year:
You shall make the Autumn precious,
And the death of Summer dear;
You shall help the days that shorten,
With a lengthening of delight;
You shall whisper long-drawn blisses
Through the gathering screen of night.
I will lead you, dream-enchanted,
Where the fairest grasses grow;
I will hear your murmured music
Where the fresh winds pipe and blow.
On the brown heath, weird-encircled,
Shall our noiseless footsteps fall,—
We, communing with twin counsel,
Each to other all in all.
Where the fairest grasses grow;
I will hear your murmured music
Where the fresh winds pipe and blow.
On the brown heath, weird-encircled,
Shall our noiseless footsteps fall,—
We, communing with twin counsel,
Each to other all in all.
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Leave the titles that men owe thee;
Like the first pair let us meet;
Name the world all over to me,
New-created at thy feet;
Gentle task and duteous learning,
I will hang upon thy breath
With the tender zeal of childhood,
With the constancy of death.
Like the first pair let us meet;
Name the world all over to me,
New-created at thy feet;
Gentle task and duteous learning,
I will hang upon thy breath
With the tender zeal of childhood,
With the constancy of death.
What shall be the gods declare not,—
They who stamp Love's burning coin
Into spangles of a moment,
Into stars that deathless shine.
Oh! the foolish music lingers;
For the theme is heavenly dear:
I expect you in September,
With the glories of the year.
They who stamp Love's burning coin
Into spangles of a moment,
Into stars that deathless shine.
Oh! the foolish music lingers;
For the theme is heavenly dear:
I expect you in September,
With the glories of the year.
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WAITING.
I have set my house in order
For a stately step to grace;
I have bidden the mirrors keep record
Of a never-forgotten face;
I have brightened with thrifty cunning
The walls of my sylvan home:
They are beautiful in the shadow
Of him who vouchsafes to come.
For a stately step to grace;
I have bidden the mirrors keep record
Of a never-forgotten face;
I have brightened with thrifty cunning
The walls of my sylvan home:
They are beautiful in the shadow
Of him who vouchsafes to come.
I have swept the leaves from the greensward,
And the gray stones twinkle and shine;
I have loosened each fretful tangle
Of the twisted cedar and vine;
I have ordered the waters waste not
Their splendors upon mine eye,
But to wait, like my heart, for thy footsteps,
And gush when thou drawest nigh.
And the gray stones twinkle and shine;
I have loosened each fretful tangle
Of the twisted cedar and vine;
I have ordered the waters waste not
Their splendors upon mine eye,
But to wait, like my heart, for thy footsteps,
And gush when thou drawest nigh.
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Myself I would dress for thy presence;
But there I must stand and weep,
Since the years that teach Love's value
His vanishing treasure sweep.
But words that are spells of magic,
And merciful looks and ways,
Shall brighten the rusted features
That faded when none did praise.
But there I must stand and weep,
Since the years that teach Love's value
His vanishing treasure sweep.
But words that are spells of magic,
And merciful looks and ways,
Shall brighten the rusted features
That faded when none did praise.
Thou gracious and lordly creature,
Do the trees, when thou passest by,
Let down their fair arms to enlace thee,
And the flowers reach up to thine eye?
Do they wait, all athrill, when thou passest,
For a touch of thy life divine?
Do they fold their meek hands when thou fleetest,
And die for a breath of thine?
Do the trees, when thou passest by,
Let down their fair arms to enlace thee,
And the flowers reach up to thine eye?
Do they wait, all athrill, when thou passest,
For a touch of thy life divine?
Do they fold their meek hands when thou fleetest,
And die for a breath of thine?
My heart has leapt forth to embrace thee;
It clings, like a babe, to thy breast;
And my blood is a storm-stirred ocean
That waits for the word of rest.
Time loses his paltry measure
Now that Love's eterne draws near,
And the lingering moments that part us
Are endless in hope and fear.
It clings, like a babe, to thy breast;
And my blood is a storm-stirred ocean
That waits for the word of rest.
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Now that Love's eterne draws near,
And the lingering moments that part us
Are endless in hope and fear.
Oh! what if, beyond thy sunshine,
Some gathering storm should brood?
Thy rapture, forsaking, shall leave me
Alone with God's orphanhood.
The heart thou hast blest so inly
Shall wait no inglorious breath:
Come hither, then, ye who walk twinly;
So enter here, Love and Death!
Some gathering storm should brood?
Thy rapture, forsaking, shall leave me
Alone with God's orphanhood.
The heart thou hast blest so inly
Shall wait no inglorious breath:
Come hither, then, ye who walk twinly;
So enter here, Love and Death!
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THE END.
Death entered where Love was waiting
With the frosted lily-crown,—
Pale pontiff, shadow-mating,
Waving the life-flame down.
With the frosted lily-crown,—
Pale pontiff, shadow-mating,
Waving the life-flame down.
His slaves, with robes of whiteness,
Shrouded the glowing face:
Gone is the vision of brightness,
A ghost is in its place.
Shrouded the glowing face:
Gone is the vision of brightness,
A ghost is in its place.
They bore her with solemn knelling,
By saintly crypt and nave,
To her new-appointed dwelling,—
The cloisters of the grave.
By saintly crypt and nave,
To her new-appointed dwelling,—
The cloisters of the grave.
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There, 'mong the silent sisters,
She tarries, with folded palms:
Where the passing torch-light glisters,
They answer in whispered psalms.
She tarries, with folded palms:
Where the passing torch-light glisters,
They answer in whispered psalms.
But as one the convent hideth,
At the festivals of God,
From the covert where she bideth,
Sends holy song abroad;
At the festivals of God,
From the covert where she bideth,
Sends holy song abroad;
So she, whom then we buried
With manifold sob and strain,
Sends back her song, love-varied,
To waken our joy again,—
With manifold sob and strain,
Sends back her song, love-varied,
To waken our joy again,—
Sends back the flame of fervor
That warms not her frozen breast,
To guide Love's true deserver
To her place in the fields of rest.
That warms not her frozen breast,
To guide Love's true deserver
To her place in the fields of rest.
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