 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
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POEMS OF THOUGHT AND FEELING.
111
COMING.
They are mustering, they are marching—
Hark, how their tramping rolls!
They are coming, coming, coming!
A hundred thousand souls!
Hark, how their tramping rolls!
They are coming, coming, coming!
A hundred thousand souls!
From the granite hills, the seaside,
In solid ranks like walls,
A thousand men to take the place
Of every man that falls!
In solid ranks like walls,
A thousand men to take the place
Of every man that falls!
Right on across the midnight,
Right onward, stern and proud,
Their red flags shining as they come
Like morning on a cloud.
Right onward, stern and proud,
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Like morning on a cloud.
Battalion on battalion
The West its bravery pours,
For the colors God's own hand has set
In the bushes at their doors!
The West its bravery pours,
For the colors God's own hand has set
In the bushes at their doors!
In the woods and in the clearings,
Our lovers, brothers, sons,
Our young men, and our old men
Are shouldering their guns.
Our lovers, brothers, sons,
Our young men, and our old men
Are shouldering their guns.
They have heard the bugle blowing—
Heard the thunder of the drum,
And farther than the eye can see
They come, and come, and come!
Heard the thunder of the drum,
And farther than the eye can see
They come, and come, and come!
A LESSON.
“Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrow is in vain,
For violets plucked, the fairest showers
Will not make grow again.”
Percy's Reliques.
Thy sorrow is in vain,
For violets plucked, the fairest showers
Will not make grow again.”
Percy's Reliques.
Idly in my house I lay,
Waiting still for joys unearned,
Till it came about one day
That a lesson thus I learned.
Waiting still for joys unearned,
Till it came about one day
That a lesson thus I learned.
“Listless lady, will you walk?”
Quick I turned my face about—
“All ablush upon one stalk,
Three sweet roses have come out!”
Quick I turned my face about—
“All ablush upon one stalk,
Three sweet roses have come out!”
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Quick I turned; my gardener stood
With his eager eyes on mine;
“Three,” he said, “as red as blood;
Will you see them where they shine?
With his eager eyes on mine;
“Three,” he said, “as red as blood;
Will you see them where they shine?
“Such sweet things were never born!
Lady, will you come and see?”
Then I answered, with slow scorn:
“Bring them hither, from the tree!”
Lady, will you come and see?”
Then I answered, with slow scorn:
“Bring them hither, from the tree!”
Off from mine he took his eyes—
“I obey your cold commands,
Asking this, for you are wise:
Will they bloom in your white hands?”
“I obey your cold commands,
Asking this, for you are wise:
Will they bloom in your white hands?”
Faint in heart, and sick in head,
Seeing dark as through a glass,—
“What is that to you?” I said;
“Go, and bring my will to pass!”
Seeing dark as through a glass,—
“What is that to you?” I said;
“Go, and bring my will to pass!”
Down the stair I heard his sighs,
Low and low and lower fall;
“I am dull, and she is wise;
But they will not bloom, for all!
Low and low and lower fall;
“I am dull, and she is wise;
But they will not bloom, for all!
“Earth is hard and earth is brown,
And the rains they coldly fall;
White the hands and soft as down;
But they will not bloom, for all!
And the rains they coldly fall;
White the hands and soft as down;
But they will not bloom, for all!
“Nature she is very wise,
And so faithful to her ways,
That no sinful, selfish sighs
Ever change her—God have praise!
And so faithful to her ways,
That no sinful, selfish sighs
Ever change her—God have praise!
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“Very wise and very still,
Never bought and never sold,
At her own sweet time and will
Giving scarlet, white or gold.
Never bought and never sold,
At her own sweet time and will
Giving scarlet, white or gold.
“Never any idle pause,
Never any noisy stir;
But if we reject her laws,
All the worse for us, not her!
Never any noisy stir;
But if we reject her laws,
All the worse for us, not her!
“O my roses, fair and bright,”
Through the garden gate he sighed,
“May it prove that through your blight
Wisdom shall be justified.
Through the garden gate he sighed,
“May it prove that through your blight
Wisdom shall be justified.
“I would spare you if I could!”
Sighing down the garden walk;
There they shone as red as blood,
Three together on one stalk.
Sighing down the garden walk;
There they shone as red as blood,
Three together on one stalk.
“Stay!” I cried, with trembling lip,
All too late the slow commands;
Clip! and then a clip and clip!
And the flowers were in my hands.
All too late the slow commands;
Clip! and then a clip and clip!
And the flowers were in my hands.
Just a moment, brave and bright,
Just a moment, ripe and red;
“Gardener, take them from my sight!”
They were drooping, dying, dead.
Just a moment, ripe and red;
“Gardener, take them from my sight!”
They were drooping, dying, dead.
Strong of heart and sound of head,
Straight I called my girls and boys:
“Joys that are unearned,” I said,
“Are but mockeries of joys.”
Straight I called my girls and boys:
“Joys that are unearned,” I said,
“Are but mockeries of joys.”
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And their light and laughing glee,
As about good tasks I set,
Said as plain as plain could be,
There be sweet buds waiting yet.
As about good tasks I set,
Said as plain as plain could be,
There be sweet buds waiting yet.
CHASING ECHOES.
Two travellers, when the east was red,
Arose, paid reckoning for their bed,
And, having broken fast with bread
And meat, set out together.
Of heart and hope they felt no lack;
So each along the highway's track
Carried his knapsack on his back
As lightly as a feather.
Arose, paid reckoning for their bed,
And, having broken fast with bread
And meat, set out together.
Of heart and hope they felt no lack;
So each along the highway's track
Carried his knapsack on his back
As lightly as a feather.
But when the sun his hot rays sent,
Aside into the fields they went,
And walked on grasses dew-besprent,
And cool with many a shadow;
Where robin, leaving his bush astir,
Fluttered up with a sudden whir,
And whistling to each, “Good morning, sir!”
Went sailing over the meadow.
Aside into the fields they went,
And walked on grasses dew-besprent,
And cool with many a shadow;
Where robin, leaving his bush astir,
Fluttered up with a sudden whir,
And whistling to each, “Good morning, sir!”
Went sailing over the meadow.
At top of the dead tree, solemn and still,
The black crow sat like a thing of ill;
The red-winged woodpecker struck with bill
Horny and hard, like a hammer;
The modest bluebird twittered her song;
The quails ran over the ground in a throng;
The steel-blue swallow, with wing so strong,
Took hold of the air like a swimmer.
The black crow sat like a thing of ill;
The red-winged woodpecker struck with bill
Horny and hard, like a hammer;
The modest bluebird twittered her song;
The quails ran over the ground in a throng;
The steel-blue swallow, with wing so strong,
Took hold of the air like a swimmer.
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And evil seemed to flee with the night,
As upward pushing his horn so bright,
The sun went, leaving a trail of light
In the mist, like a golden furrow;
And viewing it all with a shake of the head,
The younger man to the elder said,
“But for the sweat of the brow for bread,
The world would hold no shadow!”
As upward pushing his horn so bright,
The sun went, leaving a trail of light
In the mist, like a golden furrow;
And viewing it all with a shake of the head,
The younger man to the elder said,
“But for the sweat of the brow for bread,
The world would hold no shadow!”
So our travellers fell into easy talk,
Half of it earnest, half of it mock,
On methods the terrible fiat to balk;
And arguing thus together,
Left the field, unaware, behind;
And entered a pathless wood so blind,
Where mingled murmur of leaves and wind
Gave token of stormy weather!
Half of it earnest, half of it mock,
On methods the terrible fiat to balk;
And arguing thus together,
Left the field, unaware, behind;
And entered a pathless wood so blind,
Where mingled murmur of leaves and wind
Gave token of stormy weather!
Then to a whisper their loud speech fell—
Over the hillside, down in the dell—
Which was the right road neither could tell,
And the rainy night was falling.
And now the elder a sad breath drew;
“We are lost,” he said, “and the thing to do
Is just to stand, and call ‘Halloo!’
And see what comes of calling.”
Over the hillside, down in the dell—
Which was the right road neither could tell,
And the rainy night was falling.
And now the elder a sad breath drew;
“We are lost,” he said, “and the thing to do
Is just to stand, and call ‘Halloo!’
And see what comes of calling.”
And the younger, answering back with dump
Of gun and knapsack, all in a lump,
Turning to one and another clump,
Filled the woods with hallooing;
When, lo! from the heart of silence rung
A sound that seemed like a silver tongue,
And which both men, with hope high strung,
Believed to their bitter ruing.
Of gun and knapsack, all in a lump,
Turning to one and another clump,
Filled the woods with hallooing;
When, lo! from the heart of silence rung
A sound that seemed like a silver tongue,
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Believed to their bitter ruing.
For soon the sky was all a-frown,
The shadows changed from dun to brown,
And pitiless the rain came down,
And winds wailed, oh, so dreary!
And never even the little spark
Of a friendly candle threw on the dark
Its welcome gleam, the path to mark
For the feet so worn and weary.
The shadows changed from dun to brown,
And pitiless the rain came down,
And winds wailed, oh, so dreary!
And never even the little spark
Of a friendly candle threw on the dark
Its welcome gleam, the path to mark
For the feet so worn and weary.
They turned their sad case round and round;
'T was death to sleep on the sodden ground—
And nothing better could there be found
Than calling out, yet higher;
And as they, breathless, harked once more,
The voice came nearer than before,
As if the woodman had come to the door,
Or they to his hut were nigher.
'T was death to sleep on the sodden ground—
And nothing better could there be found
Than calling out, yet higher;
And as they, breathless, harked once more,
The voice came nearer than before,
As if the woodman had come to the door,
Or they to his hut were nigher.
And so the twain got heart again,
Saying, “If it rains, why, let it rain!
Some hermit hereabout, 't is plain,
Is watching for our coming;
How sweet 't will be to see him spread
His board with fruit, and wine and bread,
The while his fire, with mosses fed,
In rosy warmth is humming!”
Saying, “If it rains, why, let it rain!
Some hermit hereabout, 't is plain,
Is watching for our coming;
How sweet 't will be to see him spread
His board with fruit, and wine and bread,
The while his fire, with mosses fed,
In rosy warmth is humming!”
Thus by the silver tongue misled,
As best they could they trudged ahead,
To find the supper and find the bed,
And find the hermit holy;
But what with trees so thickly set,
And what with rain and cold and wet,
And weariness and hunger-fret,
They made their way but slowly.
As best they could they trudged ahead,
To find the supper and find the bed,
And find the hermit holy;
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And what with rain and cold and wet,
And weariness and hunger-fret,
They made their way but slowly.
At last the winds began to spin
Among the faded leaves and thin;
And then, as daybreak light poured in,
The cock-crow, and the rattle
Of falling bars, and pasture-rails
With tinklings blent of pans and pails,
And low of drowsy cattle.
Among the faded leaves and thin;
And then, as daybreak light poured in,
The cock-crow, and the rattle
Of falling bars, and pasture-rails
With tinklings blent of pans and pails,
And low of drowsy cattle.
The night was past, the rain was done,
The sun was like an Easter sun,
And all the tuneful birds begun
To fill the air with praises.
“Ah,” said the friends (in pride's despite),
“That lying echo served us right;
Men who will sin against the light
Must reap the thorns, not daisies!
The sun was like an Easter sun,
And all the tuneful birds begun
To fill the air with praises.
“Ah,” said the friends (in pride's despite),
“That lying echo served us right;
Men who will sin against the light
Must reap the thorns, not daisies!
“And we had travelled east and west,
Had had our work-days and our rest,
And gained good gains, but not the best,
For this was left for learning:
That, after all is done and said,
But the straight way gets men ahead,
And never honey-sweetened bread
Like honesty of earning!”
Had had our work-days and our rest,
And gained good gains, but not the best,
For this was left for learning:
That, after all is done and said,
But the straight way gets men ahead,
And never honey-sweetened bread
Like honesty of earning!”
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SONG FOR ALL SOULS.
Ah, many a night I've lain awake,
Of the nights when I was young—
Long, long, and long ago—
To listen and listen o'er again
To the lilting lay with the low refrain,
Half sad, half sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
Float silvery over the silver lake,
With its clear refrain, “Heigh-ho!”
Till far and near the echoes rung,
Some sad, some sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
“Blown away like daisy leaves;
Whirled away like snow;
All gone, dead and gone,
Weary heart, heigh-ho!”
Of the nights when I was young—
Long, long, and long ago—
To listen and listen o'er again
To the lilting lay with the low refrain,
Half sad, half sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
Float silvery over the silver lake,
With its clear refrain, “Heigh-ho!”
Till far and near the echoes rung,
Some sad, some sweet, “Heigh-ho!”
“Blown away like daisy leaves;
Whirled away like snow;
All gone, dead and gone,
Weary heart, heigh-ho!”
Ah, many a night I 've lain awake
In the garret rude and low,
To listen to the lilting lay,
Swelling and dying far away,
Save only just the strange refrain,
Half of pleasure and half of pain,
Blown silvery over the silver lake—
Blown soft as moonshine over the streams,
And across my pillow and into my dreams:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dry leaves in the winter winds,
Or snowflakes in the sea.”
In the garret rude and low,
To listen to the lilting lay,
Swelling and dying far away,
Save only just the strange refrain,
Half of pleasure and half of pain,
Blown silvery over the silver lake—
Blown soft as moonshine over the streams,
And across my pillow and into my dreams:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dry leaves in the winter winds,
Or snowflakes in the sea.”
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Ah, many a night I 've lain awake,
And listened with all my heart,
To hear from over the silver lake
The silvery echo start.
Ay, start and tremble, strain o'er strain,
To a wild and wailing call,
Then softly sink to the sad refrain
With a dulcet, dying fall:
“All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like flowers of grass along the grass,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And listened with all my heart,
To hear from over the silver lake
The silvery echo start.
Ay, start and tremble, strain o'er strain,
To a wild and wailing call,
Then softly sink to the sad refrain
With a dulcet, dying fall:
“All gone, dead and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like flowers of grass along the grass,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And I marvelled as I lay awake,
And the marvel would not go,
Who thus across the silver lake
Should nightly sing and row;
As if that he the lake had crossed
Till youth and hope and love were lost,
To come no more, no more;
And he could not choose but sing so low
The lilting lay with the sad refrain,
And to sing it o'er and o'er again:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And the marvel would not go,
Who thus across the silver lake
Should nightly sing and row;
As if that he the lake had crossed
Till youth and hope and love were lost,
To come no more, no more;
And he could not choose but sing so low
The lilting lay with the sad refrain,
And to sing it o'er and o'er again:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And I did not know, as I lay awake
And listened to that song,
Blown silvery over the silver lake,
That I, and that ere long,
That very rower's mood should take,
And sing the same sad song—
That song so low, so low—
And sing it o'er and o'er again,
From the wild and wailing call,
To the dulcet, dying fall:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
And listened to that song,
Blown silvery over the silver lake,
That I, and that ere long,
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And sing the same sad song—
That song so low, so low—
And sing it o'er and o'er again,
From the wild and wailing call,
To the dulcet, dying fall:
“Sweet hearts and friends, heigh-ho!
All gone, lost and gone;
Whirled away from me,
Like dead leaves in the winter wind,
Or sea-spray o'er the sea.”
HUGH THE VOLUNTEER.
Boys, are you all at home to-night?
Simon, and Seth, and John?
How should the old house be so changed
If only one is gone!
Simon, and Seth, and John?
How should the old house be so changed
If only one is gone!
You know I love you, each and all—
I need not say I do,
But my heart is just as sad and sick
As if I had only Hugh.
I need not say I do,
But my heart is just as sad and sick
As if I had only Hugh.
I am with him in his tent at night—
His morning drill I share—
In the march, and in the field of fight—
I am with him everywhere.
His morning drill I share—
In the march, and in the field of fight—
I am with him everywhere.
I miss his strong and willing hands
In everything we do—
Another must do double work
To fill the place of Hugh.
In everything we do—
Another must do double work
To fill the place of Hugh.
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Pray for him night and morn, boys,
Pray for him all the day—
Let me see, if he lives he will be
Twenty years old in May.
Pray for him all the day—
Let me see, if he lives he will be
Twenty years old in May.
Ah, then we'll make the old house ring
With many a merry sound—
God grant he may be back again
Before the time comes round.
With many a merry sound—
God grant he may be back again
Before the time comes round.
Ay, back again, all sound and safe,
To sing a birthday glee,
And make his mother's heart grow young—
But if he should n't be;
To sing a birthday glee,
And make his mother's heart grow young—
But if he should n't be;
We'll keep his place at the table, all
The same as if he were here—
He is n't the lad to spare himself,
But there is n't much to fear.
The same as if he were here—
He is n't the lad to spare himself,
But there is n't much to fear.
He is n't the lad to spare himself,
Nor the lad to yield the right—
But would to God this fight were done,
And our Hugh at home to-night!
Nor the lad to yield the right—
But would to God this fight were done,
And our Hugh at home to-night!
TO MY FIRE.
Let me trim and make you fair,
With a hickory limb or two;
Ah, I have not anywhere
Such a cheerful friend as you!
When I come home tired and sad,
Always glowing, always glad.
With a hickory limb or two;
Ah, I have not anywhere
Such a cheerful friend as you!
When I come home tired and sad,
Always glowing, always glad.
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Memories my soul that rack
Shrink from your rebuking flame;
And their ghosts go wavering back
To the darkness whence they came,
When your embers sing and hum
Of the happy days to come.
Shrink from your rebuking flame;
And their ghosts go wavering back
To the darkness whence they came,
When your embers sing and hum
Of the happy days to come.
When the future seems to lend
Scarce a gleam, my life to grace,
Like an old familiar friend
You look up into my face;
And my thoughts from vain regret
Turn to what is left me yet.
Scarce a gleam, my life to grace,
Like an old familiar friend
You look up into my face;
And my thoughts from vain regret
Turn to what is left me yet.
Many, many a lonesome night
You have been my confidant,
With your genial look and light
Comforting my discontent.
All my heart I trust to you—
Never had I friend so true.
You have been my confidant,
With your genial look and light
Comforting my discontent.
All my heart I trust to you—
Never had I friend so true.
When the wind down chimney blows,
How your bickering blazes spread,
Till each blackened rafter glows
With your shadows warm and red,
And adown my lowly walls
More than kingly splendor falls.
How your bickering blazes spread,
Till each blackened rafter glows
With your shadows warm and red,
And adown my lowly walls
More than kingly splendor falls.
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THREE GOOD SHIPS.
Three good ships came sailing in,
Long ago, ay, long ago—
Three good ships came sailing in
So early in the morning;
And all the winds to the shore did blow,
And all the sails were as white as snow,
So early in the morning.
Long ago, ay, long ago—
Three good ships came sailing in
So early in the morning;
And all the winds to the shore did blow,
And all the sails were as white as snow,
So early in the morning.
Three good ships so brave and new,
Long ago, ay, long ago,
Three good ships so brave and new,
Early in the morning;
And the sea was smooth and the sky was blue,
And every soul on board was true,
Early in the morning.
Long ago, ay, long ago,
Three good ships so brave and new,
Early in the morning;
And the sea was smooth and the sky was blue,
And every soul on board was true,
Early in the morning.
Sailing over the silver sea,
Long ago, ay, long ago,
Freighted with freight that was all for me,
Early in the morning;
And “Hope” and Faith,” they were stout and tall,
But “Love” was the best ship of them all,
Early in the morning.
Long ago, ay, long ago,
Freighted with freight that was all for me,
Early in the morning;
And “Hope” and Faith,” they were stout and tall,
But “Love” was the best ship of them all,
Early in the morning.
Three good ships a-sailing in,
Long ago, ay, long ago,
Three good ships a-sailing in
Early in the morning;
But there were breakers to be crossed,
And one of the three good ships was lost,
Early in the morning.
Long ago, ay, long ago,
Three good ships a-sailing in
Early in the morning;
But there were breakers to be crossed,
And one of the three good ships was lost,
Early in the morning.
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Two good ships a-sailing in,
Slow and sad, and sad and slow,
Two good ships a-sailing in
Through the cloudy morning;
For air and sky were all a-frown,
And of the two ships one went down,
In the mournful morning.
Slow and sad, and sad and slow,
Two good ships a-sailing in
Through the cloudy morning;
For air and sky were all a-frown,
And of the two ships one went down,
In the mournful morning.
Sailing over the solemn sea,
Through the foam, the cold white foam,
One good ship is left to me,
Far away from the morning;
Hope and Love, they both are gone,
But Faith is sailing sadly on
Toward the eternal morning.
Through the foam, the cold white foam,
One good ship is left to me,
Far away from the morning;
Hope and Love, they both are gone,
But Faith is sailing sadly on
Toward the eternal morning.
FLAWS.
O sunshine, like a cloth of gold
Drawn out along the air,
The clouds, or yellow, black, or brown,
A-sailing up, a-sailing down,
But make you doubly fair!
Drawn out along the air,
The clouds, or yellow, black, or brown,
A-sailing up, a-sailing down,
But make you doubly fair!
O grasses, like a queen's gay shawl
Upon her crowning day,
The border of rough, prickly burs,
And nettles black, and wilding furze,
Your tenderer tints display.
Upon her crowning day,
The border of rough, prickly burs,
And nettles black, and wilding furze,
Your tenderer tints display.
O bird of ragged quill, and wing
As speckled as a flower,
Sing, sing your heart up to your throat;
'T is just the one wild, wailing note
That gives your song its power.
As speckled as a flower,
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'T is just the one wild, wailing note
That gives your song its power.
Sweetheart of mine—sweetheart of mine,
Whom all my thoughts adore,
Hide your blue eyes, and frown and pout;
It is our little fallings out
That make us love the more!
Whom all my thoughts adore,
Hide your blue eyes, and frown and pout;
It is our little fallings out
That make us love the more!
Whatever things be fine or bright—
Gay grass, or golden air,
Or red of rose, or lily's snow—
It is the flaw that makes them so;
All fair would not be fair!
Gay grass, or golden air,
Or red of rose, or lily's snow—
It is the flaw that makes them so;
All fair would not be fair!
Of better things, it seems to me,
Life's best is but the sign;
Else, in this wicked world, would be
No room for blessèd charity—
No room for love divine.
Life's best is but the sign;
Else, in this wicked world, would be
No room for blessèd charity—
No room for love divine.
HOPE.
When all my fields are frozen,
When all my orchards nakèd stand,
I hear a sound that is like the sound
Of a sower, sowing the land.
And all at once the limbs of leaves,
So darkly-dim before,
Shine round me like a thresher's sheaves
When he stands in his threshing-floor.
When all my orchards nakèd stand,
I hear a sound that is like the sound
Of a sower, sowing the land.
And all at once the limbs of leaves,
So darkly-dim before,
Shine round me like a thresher's sheaves
When he stands in his threshing-floor.
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Awake from troubled slumber,
In the middle watch o' the night,
I see a hand that is like the hand
Of a painter, painting the light.
And all at once, with the shadows
Are threads of silver spun,
And all my room is like the bloom
Of a garden in the sun.
In the middle watch o' the night,
I see a hand that is like the hand
Of a painter, painting the light.
And all at once, with the shadows
Are threads of silver spun,
And all my room is like the bloom
Of a garden in the sun.
When pleasures please no longer,
When the charm of love is lost,
When my dearest hopes before me
Like chaff in the winds are tost;
My empty heart forgets its lack,
And I hear a voice that sings
Like the mother-bird when she calleth back
Her little ones to her wings.
When the charm of love is lost,
When my dearest hopes before me
Like chaff in the winds are tost;
My empty heart forgets its lack,
And I hear a voice that sings
Like the mother-bird when she calleth back
Her little ones to her wings.
When the sea of life is darkest,
When the billows gap with graves,
I hear a step that is like a step
That is treading on the waves;
And all at once the clouds are rent,
And I with my spirit see
That time is but an incident
Of the great eternity.
When the billows gap with graves,
I hear a step that is like a step
That is treading on the waves;
And all at once the clouds are rent,
And I with my spirit see
That time is but an incident
Of the great eternity.
TO ANY DESPONDING GENIUS.
Take this for granted once for all:
There is neither chance nor fate,
And to sit and wait for the sky to fall,
Is to wait as the foolish wait.
There is neither chance nor fate,
And to sit and wait for the sky to fall,
Is to wait as the foolish wait.
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The laurel, longed for, you must earn—
It is not of the things men lend,
And though the lesson be hard to learn,
The sooner the better, my friend.
It is not of the things men lend,
And though the lesson be hard to learn,
The sooner the better, my friend.
That another's head can have your crown
Is a judgment all untrue,
And to drag this man, or the other down,
Will not in the least raise you!
Is a judgment all untrue,
And to drag this man, or the other down,
Will not in the least raise you!
For, in spite of your demur, or mine,
The gods will still be the gods,
And the spark of genius will outshine
The touchwood, by all odds!
The gods will still be the gods,
And the spark of genius will outshine
The touchwood, by all odds!
Be careful, careful work to do,
Though at cost of heart, or head—
The praises, even of the Review,
Will hardly stand in stead.
Though at cost of heart, or head—
The praises, even of the Review,
Will hardly stand in stead.
No light that through the ages shines
To worthless work belongs—
Men dig in thoughts as they dig in mines,
For the jewels of their songs.
To worthless work belongs—
Men dig in thoughts as they dig in mines,
For the jewels of their songs.
A fresco painter in ceiling wrought,
With eyelids strained, 't is said,
Till he could but read of the fame so bought,
With the page above his head.
With eyelids strained, 't is said,
Till he could but read of the fame so bought,
With the page above his head.
Hold not the world as in debt to you,
When it credits you day by day,
For the light and air, for the rose and dew,
And for all that cheers your way.
When it credits you day by day,
For the light and air, for the rose and dew,
And for all that cheers your way.
129
And you, in turn, as an honest man,
Are bound, you will understand,
To give back either the best you can,
Or to die, and be out of hand.
Are bound, you will understand,
To give back either the best you can,
Or to die, and be out of hand.
COMING AND GOING.
Hoarding and heaping—hoarding and heaping—
And now there are lights, and garlands gay,
For a babe is born in the house to-day,
And his two blue eyes are sleeping;
And close by the cradle the father stands,
And thinks of his acres of well-sown lands,
And of when the two little dimpled hands
Will be strong enough for reaping.
And now there are lights, and garlands gay,
For a babe is born in the house to-day,
And his two blue eyes are sleeping;
And close by the cradle the father stands,
And thinks of his acres of well-sown lands,
And of when the two little dimpled hands
Will be strong enough for reaping.
Budding and blooming—budding and blooming—
And the winds are playing like flutes on the hills,
And the stones are beaten like drums in the rills,
And the birds in clouds are coming;
And song and fragrance float in the breeze,
And all the blossoms of all the trees
Are edged with fringes of golden bees
Sucking and humming—sucking and humming.
And the winds are playing like flutes on the hills,
And the stones are beaten like drums in the rills,
And the birds in clouds are coming;
And song and fragrance float in the breeze,
And all the blossoms of all the trees
Are edged with fringes of golden bees
Sucking and humming—sucking and humming.
Wailing and weeping—wailing and weeping—
And now the lights in the house are low,
And now the roses have ceased to glow,
And the women watch are keeping;
And close by the coffin the father stands,
And, bitterly moaning, wrings his hands,
And barren of pleasure are all his lands,
For the babe wakes not from sleeping.
And now the lights in the house are low,
And now the roses have ceased to glow,
And the women watch are keeping;
And close by the coffin the father stands,
And, bitterly moaning, wrings his hands,
And barren of pleasure are all his lands,
For the babe wakes not from sleeping.
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Blighting and blowing—blighting and blowing—
And the stones of the rivulet silent lie,
And the winds in the fading woodlands cry,
And the birds in clouds are going;
And the dandelion hides his gold,
And their blue little tents the violets fold,
And the air is gray with snowing:
So life keeps coming and going.
And the stones of the rivulet silent lie,
And the winds in the fading woodlands cry,
And the birds in clouds are going;
And the dandelion hides his gold,
And their blue little tents the violets fold,
And the air is gray with snowing:
So life keeps coming and going.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PICTURE.
They may talk of old ageAnd its pleasures who please,
Of the rosy-cheeked lad on
The grandfather's knees;
Of the granddaughter, too,
With her soft golden hair
Hanging over the back of
His great easy-chair;
But I don't quite relish
My time of the day,
Sitting here in my nightcap
Rheumatic and gray!
My grandson is surely
A nice little elf,
But then I would rather
Be boy for myself!
And I love my granddaughter,
So sweet and so shy,
But I'd rather have gold hair
Than gray, would n't I?
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But just queer,
That I should have taken on
Year after year,
Until my broad shoulders
Bent under the strain,
And I had to prop up my
Weak legs with a cane!
And take to soft crusts,
And meal gruel and milk,
And go in a jacket
Of wool, not of silk,
And carefully garter
My fleecy-lined hose,
And keep a sharp eye to
The end of my nose!
When I think of the time
We were married, my dear,
It seems to me something
That happened last year,
And I fairly distrust both
My sense and my sight,
When I look up and see
That your head is so white!
And spite all assurance,
I can't think it's true
That I should be I, and
That you should be you!
'T is hard to receive it
And make it seem fair,
That we should be toddling
The way that we are;
But rather as if an
Exception should be
132
To you and to me,
As if we had come to
The close of the day
Without ever having had
Open, fair play!
I know I am wrong here,
But when all is done,
The shadow will not be so sweet
As the sun.
So, let the old people
Talk fine as they please
About lives lived over
In holiday ease;
I say, what is ease worth,
Laid up high and dry,
With a great gouty toe
And a rheum in the eye?
And think, if 't were all
Just the same to the shelves,
The old folks would rather
Stand up for themselves!
And run in the race with
The sturdy-legged boys,
And share with the gay girls
Their frolicsome joys;
And, bravely defiant
Of all gouty pains,
Tear off the red flannels
And burn up the canes;
And put on the shining
And beautiful gear,
And cease to look querulous,
Crooked, and queer.
133
So set at strife
With the wonderful order
And wisdom of life,
As dare, if I might, to turn
Up and turn back
The locks, thin and gray,
To the side, thick and black;
Or boldly to take the
Responsible part
Of saying, if life were
To live from the start,
I 'd render up cleaner
Account of my trust,
Or deal with my neighbor
More honest and just.
So let us, my darling,
Give praise to his name,
Who has kept us from slipping
In pitfalls of shame;
And, wrapt from the chill
Of the rough winter weather,
Go down the life hill
As we came up, together!
And when we no longer
Can brave the rough storms,
Just sleep in the shelter
Of each other's arms.
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THE TIME OF THE DEW-FALL.
We sat upon the smooth sea sand,
And watched the tide flow in and out,
And knew what it was all about—
Heart held in heart and hand to hand—
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
And watched the tide flow in and out,
And knew what it was all about—
Heart held in heart and hand to hand—
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
With faces toward each other leant,
We saw the green heads of the trees,
And heard the whispering of the breeze,
And knew what all the sweetness meant,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
We saw the green heads of the trees,
And heard the whispering of the breeze,
And knew what all the sweetness meant,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
We saw the long gray east o'erblown
With flowers that wore the look of light,
And they were lovely in our sight,
And all their secret meanings known,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
With flowers that wore the look of light,
And they were lovely in our sight,
And all their secret meanings known,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
Like the thick coming of a cloud
We saw the birds, and knew each note—
Of speckled-wing, and golden-throat,
Or soft and low, or shrill and loud,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
We saw the birds, and knew each note—
Of speckled-wing, and golden-throat,
Or soft and low, or shrill and loud,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
We dropped the seed-corn in the ground
Without a single thought or fear
About the full, ripe, rounded ear,
When time should bring the harvest round,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
Without a single thought or fear
About the full, ripe, rounded ear,
When time should bring the harvest round,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
135
Ah, not in vanity or pride,
But out of love, whence wisdom springs,
We took the tangled web of things
And stretched it straight from side to side,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
But out of love, whence wisdom springs,
We took the tangled web of things
And stretched it straight from side to side,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
Our hearts, alas, no longer beat
As one, and hand has fallen from hand,
And I am slow to understand
The things that were so plain and sweet
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
As one, and hand has fallen from hand,
And I am slow to understand
The things that were so plain and sweet
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
AN EVENING RHYME.
This was a goodly day—the sun
Sunk to his rest in radiant calms;
I hear the gray sea singing psalms
The same as he has always done.
Sunk to his rest in radiant calms;
I hear the gray sea singing psalms
The same as he has always done.
The moon in tender beauty clad
Looks down upon me from the sky—
What is it ails the time, that I
Should be so sick at heart, so sad!
Looks down upon me from the sky—
What is it ails the time, that I
Should be so sick at heart, so sad!
My baby's little lispings war
Against it, all in vain—ah me,
His golden head upon my knee
Seems farther from me than the star!
Against it, all in vain—ah me,
His golden head upon my knee
Seems farther from me than the star!
I feel, alas I know not what
Of darkness on my senses fall—
Friends come—the best friend of them all
Comes to me, yet he finds me not;
Of darkness on my senses fall—
Friends come—the best friend of them all
Comes to me, yet he finds me not;
136
Or I find him not, for he seems
Like other men, nor less nor more—
Time was with me the dress he wore,
The book he read, was food for dreams.
Like other men, nor less nor more—
Time was with me the dress he wore,
The book he read, was food for dreams.
That time will come again to me—
For if we would, we cannot break
The sweet affinities that make
Such poems in our lives—not we.
For if we would, we cannot break
The sweet affinities that make
Such poems in our lives—not we.
And this dull mood that seems th' abuse
Of opportunity, is right;
Light cannot be defined by light—
The blur, the shadow, have their use;
Of opportunity, is right;
Light cannot be defined by light—
The blur, the shadow, have their use;
The failure teaches us to know
The way of success—strife bringeth strength—
Pain works itself to peace at length,
The unstable brings the sure, and though
The way of success—strife bringeth strength—
Pain works itself to peace at length,
The unstable brings the sure, and though
The world within our hearts to-day,
Like a great emerald in a rim
Of rubies, straightway groweth dim,
And slippeth from our hearts away;
Like a great emerald in a rim
Of rubies, straightway groweth dim,
And slippeth from our hearts away;
I hold this truth all truths above—
Whatever else that firmest stands
Shall slide together like dry sands—
The truth, the eternity of love!
Whatever else that firmest stands
Shall slide together like dry sands—
The truth, the eternity of love!
137
OLD FRIENDS.
You with fortune's gale that float,
Welcome to my rough-hewn boat!
Pleasant is your sunny crew,
But, O friends, of rainy weather,
Tenderer love I bear to you,
We have borne the heat together!
Welcome to my rough-hewn boat!
Pleasant is your sunny crew,
But, O friends, of rainy weather,
Tenderer love I bear to you,
We have borne the heat together!
Pleasure's tie a chance may sever,
But the ties of sorrow, never!
And, old friends, though bitter storms
Part us, in my dreams I gather
Each of you in memory's arms,
And we sail away together,
But the ties of sorrow, never!
And, old friends, though bitter storms
Part us, in my dreams I gather
Each of you in memory's arms,
And we sail away together,
Toward that fair and friendly shore
Whither hope has gone before.
For life's promise now is lost—
Time has cut youth's golden tether,
And we feel the autumn frost
Falling on our heads together.
Whither hope has gone before.
For life's promise now is lost—
Time has cut youth's golden tether,
And we feel the autumn frost
Falling on our heads together.
But though gloom our voyage enshrouds,
Day breaks brightest in the clouds;
And though earth be sad and cold,
Heaven is made of flowery weather,
And as here we 're growing old,
There, we shall grow young together.
Day breaks brightest in the clouds;
And though earth be sad and cold,
Heaven is made of flowery weather,
And as here we 're growing old,
There, we shall grow young together.
138
THE SUICIDE.
Where the dry, dusty road makes a crook to evade
The clump of sweet maples that offer their shade,
'T is there that the grave of poor Margaret is made.
The clump of sweet maples that offer their shade,
'T is there that the grave of poor Margaret is made.
Where the river you see pushes into the shore,
As if in its bosom some treasure it bore
Belonging to earth, which it fain would restore;
As if in its bosom some treasure it bore
Belonging to earth, which it fain would restore;
Ah, there 't was they found her, her arms o'er her head,
As if she had drawn up the waves to o'erspread
Her corpse from all pity, when she should be dead.
As if she had drawn up the waves to o'erspread
Her corpse from all pity, when she should be dead.
Where the grass to the water slopes green, it was there
They shut up her eyes from their wondering stare,
That they wrung out the wet from her garments and hair.
They shut up her eyes from their wondering stare,
That they wrung out the wet from her garments and hair.
I shall say, if the judgment shall call me to speak,
“A kiss might have put out the fire in her cheek
That urged her the last awful refuge to seek.”
“A kiss might have put out the fire in her cheek
That urged her the last awful refuge to seek.”
“MY BOY.”
Ah, winter days, be not so cold, so cold!
And if my little houseless boy you see,
Quilt all your iron shadows thick with gold,
And lap them round him—he is all to me.
And if my little houseless boy you see,
Quilt all your iron shadows thick with gold,
And lap them round him—he is all to me.
139
Oh, winter winds, if ever, as you blow,
You find, in some wild place apart from joy,
A shining head, with curls along the snow,
Soften your rough voice—that will be my boy!
You find, in some wild place apart from joy,
A shining head, with curls along the snow,
Soften your rough voice—that will be my boy!
Oh, happy mothers! while you watch at night
The bright blaze making all the wide room gay,
Keep on some upper floor a little light—
My poor, lost child may chance to pass that way!
The bright blaze making all the wide room gay,
Keep on some upper floor a little light—
My poor, lost child may chance to pass that way!
And if, when all without is blind with gloom,—
Among your boys and girls, alive with joy,
A little white face peer,—make room, make room,
Between their red cheeks—that will be my boy!
Among your boys and girls, alive with joy,
A little white face peer,—make room, make room,
Between their red cheeks—that will be my boy!
False witnesses to prison may have lied
My pretty lamb—oh, warden! if you see
One strange to wrong, and ready to divide
His slice—nay, give it all, why that is he!
My pretty lamb—oh, warden! if you see
One strange to wrong, and ready to divide
His slice—nay, give it all, why that is he!
Loose from his tender limbs the cruel bands—
Even though he sinned, shall that my love destroy?
Here to your chains I give my old, rough hands,
To prison, to death will I, to save my boy!
Even though he sinned, shall that my love destroy?
Here to your chains I give my old, rough hands,
To prison, to death will I, to save my boy!
GROWTH.
The living stream must flow, and flow,
And never rest, and never wait,
But from its bosom, soon or late
Cast the dead corpse. Time even so
And never rest, and never wait,
But from its bosom, soon or late
Cast the dead corpse. Time even so
140
Runs on and on, and may not rest,
But from its bosom casts away
The cold dead forms of yesterday—
Once best, may not be always best.
But from its bosom casts away
The cold dead forms of yesterday—
Once best, may not be always best.
That which was but the dream of youth,
Begot of wildest fantasy,
To our old age, perhaps, may be
A good and great and gracious truth.
Begot of wildest fantasy,
To our old age, perhaps, may be
A good and great and gracious truth.
That which was true in time gone by,
As seen by narrow, ignorant sight,
May in the longer, clearer light
Of wiser times, become a lie.
As seen by narrow, ignorant sight,
May in the longer, clearer light
Of wiser times, become a lie.
I hold this true—who ever wins
Man's highest stature here below,
Must grow, and never cease to grow—
For when growth ceases, death begins.
Man's highest stature here below,
Must grow, and never cease to grow—
For when growth ceases, death begins.
LITTLE THINGS.
Shall we strike a bargain, Fate?
And wilt thou to this agree?
Take whatever things are great,
Leave the little things to me!
And wilt thou to this agree?
Take whatever things are great,
Leave the little things to me!
Take the eagle, proud and dark,
Broad of shoulders, strong of wing;
Leave the robin, leave the lark,
'T is the little birds that sing!
Broad of shoulders, strong of wing;
Leave the robin, leave the lark,
'T is the little birds that sing!
141
Take the oak-wood, towering up,
With its top against the skies;
Leave one little acorn cup,
Therein all the forest lies!
With its top against the skies;
Leave one little acorn cup,
Therein all the forest lies!
Take the murmurous fountain-heads,
Take the river, winding slow;
But about my garden-beds
Leave the dewdrop, small and low.
Take the river, winding slow;
But about my garden-beds
Leave the dewdrop, small and low.
Winding waves are fine to view,
Sweet the fountain's silver call;
But the little drop of dew
Holds the sunshine, after all.
Sweet the fountain's silver call;
But the little drop of dew
Holds the sunshine, after all.
Take the sea, the great wide sea,
White with many a swelling sail;
Leave the little stream to me,
Sliding silent through the vale.
White with many a swelling sail;
Leave the little stream to me,
Sliding silent through the vale.
Poesy will find her theme
In thy grander portion, still,
'T is my little, unpraised stream
Of the meadow, turns the mill.
In thy grander portion, still,
'T is my little, unpraised stream
Of the meadow, turns the mill.
Take the palace, all ashine,
With its lofty halls and towers;
Let the little house be mine,
With its door-yard grass and flowers.
With its lofty halls and towers;
Let the little house be mine,
With its door-yard grass and flowers.
Take the lands, the royal lands,
All with parks and orchards bright;
Leave to me the little hands,
Clinging closely morn and night.
All with parks and orchards bright;
Leave to me the little hands,
Clinging closely morn and night.
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Ah, for once be kindly, Fate,
To my harmless plan agree;
Take whatever things are great,
Leave the little things to me!
To my harmless plan agree;
Take whatever things are great,
Leave the little things to me!
BURNS.
Time, paint him as he was among
His darling daisies at the plow,
With bonnet old and poor, but hung
Right bravely on his honest brow.
His darling daisies at the plow,
With bonnet old and poor, but hung
Right bravely on his honest brow.
Or better, with his plaidie wide
And unashamed of homespun gear,
Turning his weeding clips aside
To save old Scotia's emblem dear.
And unashamed of homespun gear,
Turning his weeding clips aside
To save old Scotia's emblem dear.
For idle, all, the strife to vamp
With gauds, great nature's simple plan;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The gold for a' that is the man.
With gauds, great nature's simple plan;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The gold for a' that is the man.
Ah, paint him as he was, nor seek
His life with alien grace to trim;
No look of scourging in his cheek,
No saintly chastity for him!
His life with alien grace to trim;
No look of scourging in his cheek,
No saintly chastity for him!
Paint him a lover—in his song
Catching all hearts, his own still light—
Not haggard, as he looked ere long,
Affronted at neglect and slight.
Catching all hearts, his own still light—
Not haggard, as he looked ere long,
Affronted at neglect and slight.
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Bravely against the fate foregone,
Striving some little good to win—
Not in that wave which on and on
Allured him, till it drew him in.
Striving some little good to win—
Not in that wave which on and on
Allured him, till it drew him in.
Paint the great soul that yet with cries
Must rend the clay, not wear it through,
Making within his wondrous eyes
Signs of the work it had to do.
Must rend the clay, not wear it through,
Making within his wondrous eyes
Signs of the work it had to do.
Alas, that wayward, wavering strife
Towards worthier living, but reveal
The war, the mystery of the life
That other men but half conceal.
Towards worthier living, but reveal
The war, the mystery of the life
That other men but half conceal.
Paint all the bonny braes and streams
That called his inspirations out;
Not the poor skeleton of dreams
He lived his after-life about.
That called his inspirations out;
Not the poor skeleton of dreams
He lived his after-life about.
Ah, Time, be gentle with his fame,
Nor let his frailties, judgment sway,
For when he seemed the most to blame
'T was nature having all her way.
Nor let his frailties, judgment sway,
For when he seemed the most to blame
'T was nature having all her way.
'T was love that was his law of right,
And spite of all he thus defied,
No life has a diviner light
Than his, upon the heavenly side.
And spite of all he thus defied,
No life has a diviner light
Than his, upon the heavenly side.
144
NANNIE.
I can remember when our roof
Would not keep out the rain;
We have been very poor, Nannie,
I wish we were again!
Would not keep out the rain;
We have been very poor, Nannie,
I wish we were again!
For when the frosty autumn came,
And all the oaks had bled
Their piteous hearts into the leaves
Until the woods were red,
And all the oaks had bled
Their piteous hearts into the leaves
Until the woods were red,
I never felt the chill, Nannie,
And never feared the storm;
Your love was better than a cloak
To keep me safe and warm.
And never feared the storm;
Your love was better than a cloak
To keep me safe and warm.
And sometimes in the winter days
I 've almost felt the glow
Of fire-light, as I stooped to write
Your name upon the snow.
I 've almost felt the glow
Of fire-light, as I stooped to write
Your name upon the snow.
Now all is changed. The hills are gone
Where gently every night
The cows were used to stoop their necks
Beneath your hands so white.
Where gently every night
The cows were used to stoop their necks
Beneath your hands so white.
The red rose through the broken pane
Leans tenderly no more
To see the sunshine's golden rule
Along the ashen floor.
Leans tenderly no more
To see the sunshine's golden rule
Along the ashen floor.
145
And you never sit upon my knee,
And never make me sure
You love me just as well as in
The days when we were poor.
And never make me sure
You love me just as well as in
The days when we were poor.
THE OLD MAN'S WOOING.
Come sit upon my knee, Minie,
And, darling, do not frown,
You know my hair is thin and white,
And yours is thick and brown:
So sit upon my knee, Minie,
And lean your bright head low
Against my cheek, for see, Minie,
My hair is white as snow.
And, darling, do not frown,
You know my hair is thin and white,
And yours is thick and brown:
So sit upon my knee, Minie,
And lean your bright head low
Against my cheek, for see, Minie,
My hair is white as snow.
And sing me that old song, Minie,
About the summer dead,
Its pleasant tune has all the time
Been going through my head,
Since when you sang it first, Minie,
In tones so sweet and clear,
With but a little sky between
Ourselves and heaven, my dear.
About the summer dead,
Its pleasant tune has all the time
Been going through my head,
Since when you sang it first, Minie,
In tones so sweet and clear,
With but a little sky between
Ourselves and heaven, my dear.
My eyes are going blind, Minie,
My heart is sad with care,
And you are like a bright young rose,
That I must never wear.
If you were not so young, Minie,
And I were not so gray,
I'd ask if you would smile sometimes,
And make my darkness day.
My heart is sad with care,
And you are like a bright young rose,
That I must never wear.
If you were not so young, Minie,
And I were not so gray,
I'd ask if you would smile sometimes,
And make my darkness day.
146
Oh, when I'm dead and gone, Minie,
You must not come to weep,
The lightest sigh you breathed for me
Would wake me out of sleep:
Would wake me out of death, Minie;
Ah, do not tremble so,
You know I cannot love, Minie,
My hair is white as snow.
You must not come to weep,
The lightest sigh you breathed for me
Would wake me out of sleep:
Would wake me out of death, Minie;
Ah, do not tremble so,
You know I cannot love, Minie,
My hair is white as snow.
CHEER AND WARNING.
Here's a rhyme and a cheerful God-speed
For the weak and the pushed to the wall;
And here 's for the strong a take heed,
Lest haply they stumble and fall.
For the weak and the pushed to the wall;
And here 's for the strong a take heed,
Lest haply they stumble and fall.
For none are too low and too poor
For hope to go down to, and none
In th' world's highest places are sure
Of keeping the heights they have won.
For hope to go down to, and none
In th' world's highest places are sure
Of keeping the heights they have won.
The best man should never pass by
The worst; but, to brotherhood true,
Entreat him thus gently, “Lo, I
Am tempted in all things, as you.”
The worst; but, to brotherhood true,
Entreat him thus gently, “Lo, I
Am tempted in all things, as you.”
Of one dust all peoples are made,
One sky doth above them extend,
And whether through sunshine or shade
Their paths run, they meet at the end.
One sky doth above them extend,
And whether through sunshine or shade
Their paths run, they meet at the end.
147
And whatever his honors may be
Of riches, or genius, or blood,
God never made any man free
To find out a separate good.
Of riches, or genius, or blood,
God never made any man free
To find out a separate good.
So, giving to virtue its worth,
The frail be I slow to decry,
For while there 's a soul on the earth
That suffers and sins, so do I.
The frail be I slow to decry,
For while there 's a soul on the earth
That suffers and sins, so do I.
ALL IN ALL.
More than we have been, my brother,
We must be to one another,
In our dark estate.
We are poor, and very lonely—
Love, and one another only,
We must work and wait.
We must be to one another,
In our dark estate.
We are poor, and very lonely—
Love, and one another only,
We must work and wait.
All the green and dewy splendor,
All the blossoms sweet and tender,
From the fields are gone.
In the woodland, in the mowing.
At the seedtime, at the ploughing—
We must work alone.
All the blossoms sweet and tender,
From the fields are gone.
In the woodland, in the mowing.
At the seedtime, at the ploughing—
We must work alone.
They are gone that made the brightness—
Gone, who gave our hearts their lightness;
And while life shall last,
We no more may turn our faces
Forward to the world's high places—
Our delights are past.
Gone, who gave our hearts their lightness;
And while life shall last,
We no more may turn our faces
Forward to the world's high places—
Our delights are past.
148
We must plant bright flowers about them—
We must learn to live without them
In our dark estate,
And must henceforth be, my brother,
All in all to one another,
While we work and wait.
We must learn to live without them
In our dark estate,
And must henceforth be, my brother,
All in all to one another,
While we work and wait.
CHANGE.
We had but a humble home,
With few and simple joys;
But my father's step was proud and firm,
And my brothers were laughing boys.
With few and simple joys;
But my father's step was proud and firm,
And my brothers were laughing boys.
We have much that we longed for then,
Our hearth is broad and bright;
But my brothers now are saddened men,
And my father's hair is white.
Our hearth is broad and bright;
But my brothers now are saddened men,
And my father's hair is white.
150
WHAT A WRETCHED WOMAN SAID TO ME.
All the broad East was laced with tender rings
Of widening light; the Daybreak shone afar;
Deep in the hollow, 'twixt her fiery wings,
Fluttered the morning star.
Of widening light; the Daybreak shone afar;
Deep in the hollow, 'twixt her fiery wings,
Fluttered the morning star.
A cloud, that through the time of darkness went
With wanton winds, now, heavy-hearted, came
And fell upon the sunshine, penitent,
And burning up with shame.
With wanton winds, now, heavy-hearted, came
And fell upon the sunshine, penitent,
And burning up with shame.
The grass was wet with dew; the sheep-fields lay
Lapping together far as eye could see;
And the great harvest hung the golden way
Of Nature's charity.
Lapping together far as eye could see;
And the great harvest hung the golden way
Of Nature's charity.
My house was full of comfort; I was propped
With life's delights, all sweet as they could be,
When at my door a wretched woman stopped,
And, weeping, said to me,—
With life's delights, all sweet as they could be,
When at my door a wretched woman stopped,
And, weeping, said to me,—
“Its rose-root in youth's seasonable hours
Love in thy bosom set, so blest wert thou;
Hence all the pretty little red-mouthed flowers
That climb and kiss thee now!
Love in thy bosom set, so blest wert thou;
Hence all the pretty little red-mouthed flowers
That climb and kiss thee now!
“I loved, but I must stifle Nature's cries
With old dry blood, else perish, I was told;
Hence the young light shrunk up within my eyes;
And left them blank and bold.
With old dry blood, else perish, I was told;
Hence the young light shrunk up within my eyes;
And left them blank and bold.
151
“I take my deeds, all, bad as they have been,—
The way was dark, the awful pitfall bare;—
In my weak hands, up through the fires of sin,
I hold them for my prayer.”
The way was dark, the awful pitfall bare;—
In my weak hands, up through the fires of sin,
I hold them for my prayer.”
“The thick, tough husk of evil grows about
Each soul that lives,” I mused, “but doth it kill?
When the tree rots, the imprisoned wedge falls out,
Rusted, but iron still.
Each soul that lives,” I mused, “but doth it kill?
When the tree rots, the imprisoned wedge falls out,
Rusted, but iron still.
“Shall He who to the daisy has access,
Reaching it down its little lamp of dew
To light it up through earth, do any less,
Last and best work, for you?”
Reaching it down its little lamp of dew
To light it up through earth, do any less,
Last and best work, for you?”
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |