 | New poems |  |
172
THE NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS.
Whence came it, all so heavenly fair,
Too sacred for the day,
Unfolding to the moon and stars,—
So quick to pass away,—
The precious odors from its heart
So sweetly to release,—
When air was in a holy calm,
And earth was hushed to peace?
Too sacred for the day,
Unfolding to the moon and stars,—
So quick to pass away,—
The precious odors from its heart
So sweetly to release,—
When air was in a holy calm,
And earth was hushed to peace?
The floral train were fast asleep
Beneath their veil of dew,
So heavy, scarce a stellar ray,
To kiss them, waded through,—
When this strange beauty was revealed
To Vesper's sinless eye,
To vanish, as the morning dreams
Of Sabbath slumber die!
Beneath their veil of dew,
So heavy, scarce a stellar ray,
To kiss them, waded through,—
When this strange beauty was revealed
To Vesper's sinless eye,
To vanish, as the morning dreams
Of Sabbath slumber die!
A lone night-blooming mystery!
Whence was its beauty caught?
And why its robe, so full and pure,
For but a moment wrought?
A midnight death!—at morning, gone!
And here, with mystic power,
Its essence sweet diffused around,
As 't were a spirit flower.
Whence was its beauty caught?
And why its robe, so full and pure,
For but a moment wrought?
A midnight death!—at morning, gone!
And here, with mystic power,
Its essence sweet diffused around,
As 't were a spirit flower.
173
And may not spirit agents wear
A bloomy raiment here,
Addressing, through our outward eye,
Our inmost spirit's ear?
They do!—in Sharon's lovely Rose
A Spirit smiled below,—
In Judah's spicy Lilies spake,
Two thousand years ago!
A bloomy raiment here,
Addressing, through our outward eye,
Our inmost spirit's ear?
They do!—in Sharon's lovely Rose
A Spirit smiled below,—
In Judah's spicy Lilies spake,
Two thousand years ago!
The floral myriads sweetly bear,—
Upon the leafy scroll,
Or told in angel whispers,—each,
A message to the soul!
But this unsullied, phantom bloom,
'Mid silent shades evolved,—
How must the heart interpret it?
How shall the dream be solved?
Upon the leafy scroll,
Or told in angel whispers,—each,
A message to the soul!
But this unsullied, phantom bloom,
'Mid silent shades evolved,—
How must the heart interpret it?
How shall the dream be solved?
It was a minister of love,—
A vision of the night,—
Who took the form our sun ne'er saw,
Of fragrant, flowery white!
It came to warn us not to place
Our trust in earth and time;
Then left its veil to show the rest,
And sought its native clime!
A vision of the night,—
Who took the form our sun ne'er saw,
Of fragrant, flowery white!
It came to warn us not to place
Our trust in earth and time;
Then left its veil to show the rest,
And sought its native clime!
And has not some dear vision smiled,
In form of human mould,
To thee on earth just long enough
Its pinions to unfold?
And when thou thought'st to hold it fast,
Thy path of life to cheer,
Did not it drop its vesture, mount,
And leave thee darkling here?
In form of human mould,
To thee on earth just long enough
Its pinions to unfold?
And when thou thought'st to hold it fast,
Thy path of life to cheer,
Did not it drop its vesture, mount,
And leave thee darkling here?
| New poems | |