 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
THE DREAM OF THE MISANTHROPE
I went away from the haunts of men
In a fairy-rowed canoe;
And the emerald hills and the old church spire
First lessened and then withdrew.
The sea was around me bright and calm
As the smile of a sleeping child,
And beautiful clouds of a thousand hues
Against the sky were piled.
In a fairy-rowed canoe;
And the emerald hills and the old church spire
First lessened and then withdrew.
The sea was around me bright and calm
As the smile of a sleeping child,
And beautiful clouds of a thousand hues
Against the sky were piled.
In truth 'twas a goodly sight and grand—
That sea without a shore,—
The dreaming clouds, and the moving bark
With its invisible oar.
Away—away, at an earthless speed—
Away from guilty men,—
The white foam lightened around my track,
And I laughed for pleasure then.
That sea without a shore,—
The dreaming clouds, and the moving bark
With its invisible oar.
Away—away, at an earthless speed—
Away from guilty men,—
The white foam lightened around my track,
And I laughed for pleasure then.
The wonderful things of Ocean shone
Right under the cutting keel;
The star-fish lay on a diamond stone
In the coil of the golden eel,—
The Merman sat in his coral chair
Like a chieftain of the sea,
But he frowned when he saw his partner wave
Her beautiful arm to me.
Right under the cutting keel;
The star-fish lay on a diamond stone
In the coil of the golden eel,—
The Merman sat in his coral chair
Like a chieftain of the sea,
But he frowned when he saw his partner wave
Her beautiful arm to me.
Soft eyes looked up from the sunny deep
With their smiles of love and mirth—
Wild passionate eyes, that would laugh to shame
The brightest ones of Earth,
And the young forms danced on the pearly floor,
And wreathed their arms of snow;
And sang their beautiful lays of love,
To a music sweet and low.
With their smiles of love and mirth—
Wild passionate eyes, that would laugh to shame
The brightest ones of Earth,
And the young forms danced on the pearly floor,
And wreathed their arms of snow;
And sang their beautiful lays of love,
To a music sweet and low.
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I had hated music, because it came
From the vulgar lips of men,
But I gave my soul to the witchfulness
Of those ocean-voices then.
I had hated woman—because I knew
Her love was a changeful gem,
But I knew those ocean-girls were true,
And I gave my heart to them.
From the vulgar lips of men,
But I gave my soul to the witchfulness
Of those ocean-voices then.
I had hated woman—because I knew
Her love was a changeful gem,
But I knew those ocean-girls were true,
And I gave my heart to them.
I came at last to an isle that seemed
Like an emerald set in gold,
For a rich and pleasant sunshine robed
The waves that about it rolled.
My bark went up to a narrow beach,
Made snow-white by the sun,
Where the streams came down in search of the sea,
And I laughed to see them run.
Like an emerald set in gold,
For a rich and pleasant sunshine robed
The waves that about it rolled.
My bark went up to a narrow beach,
Made snow-white by the sun,
Where the streams came down in search of the sea,
And I laughed to see them run.
A beautiful shape of ocean birth
Held out her delicate hand,
And she took my own, and I followed her
To that green and pleasant land.
Its streams were pure, and its musical shades
Bore not the trace of men—
And over its green and silken grass
No human foot had been.
Held out her delicate hand,
And she took my own, and I followed her
To that green and pleasant land.
Its streams were pure, and its musical shades
Bore not the trace of men—
And over its green and silken grass
No human foot had been.
And this was mine—I sat me down
And for every joy I wept,
While the broad and beautiful trees about
In the living sunshine slept.
The sea-girls came to the white sea-beach,
And danced in Nature's glee,
And they brought their treasures of ocean pearl,
And gave them all to me.
And for every joy I wept,
While the broad and beautiful trees about
In the living sunshine slept.
The sea-girls came to the white sea-beach,
And danced in Nature's glee,
And they brought their treasures of ocean pearl,
And gave them all to me.
Rich fruits hung down to the laughing streams,
With a strange inviting smell,
And a bird went by on a thousand wings
In the sunlight painted well.
The chime of the waves was soft and low,
As the mermaid's gentle strain,
And oh! I prayed that I might not know
The human voice again.
With a strange inviting smell,
And a bird went by on a thousand wings
In the sunlight painted well.
The chime of the waves was soft and low,
As the mermaid's gentle strain,
And oh! I prayed that I might not know
The human voice again.
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Yet even then I thought of home,—
Of the speaking human face—
I thought of the grey familiar church
And its shady burial place.
I knew that those I loved were there,
In their last and pleasant sleep;
I had wept for them; but I knew for me
There was not an eye to weep.
Of the speaking human face—
I thought of the grey familiar church
And its shady burial place.
I knew that those I loved were there,
In their last and pleasant sleep;
I had wept for them; but I knew for me
There was not an eye to weep.
And a shadow fell upon my soul,
In that most pleasant isle;
And I did not see the light waves fall,
Nor watch the mermaid's smile;
And I felt that Earth in its pride had not
A balm for the spirit riven,—
That all the hopes of the human heart
Were vain but the hope of Heaven!
In that most pleasant isle;
And I did not see the light waves fall,
Nor watch the mermaid's smile;
And I felt that Earth in its pride had not
A balm for the spirit riven,—
That all the hopes of the human heart
Were vain but the hope of Heaven!
Haverhill Gazette, September 12, 1829
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |