 | A book of romances, lyrics, and songs |  |
100
LYRICS.
ADRIFT.
We sailed on a tranquil sea,
A moon ago—no more,
And the god that steered securely neared
The haven and the shore.
A moon ago—no more,
And the god that steered securely neared
The haven and the shore.
There was no reef below,
No cloud above:
The only gale that swelled our sail
To the blissful harbor drove.
No cloud above:
The only gale that swelled our sail
To the blissful harbor drove.
Where now the mirrored keel,
The splendor overhead?
Billows dark have whelmed the bark
And the faithless sun is dead.
The splendor overhead?
Billows dark have whelmed the bark
And the faithless sun is dead.
101
In the darkness and the dread
I drift alone:
Heaven hangs black on the dismal track
Of the waves unknown.
I drift alone:
Heaven hangs black on the dismal track
Of the waves unknown.
Heaven hangs black and cold
And the shores are far and dim;
On a shattered plank of the ship that sank
I feebly swim.
And the shores are far and dim;
On a shattered plank of the ship that sank
I feebly swim.
And the shores recede afar
Behind the waves unknown;—
On the sea no sail, in the sky no star:
God, in whose hand Thy creatures are,
How shall I drift alone?
Behind the waves unknown;—
On the sea no sail, in the sky no star:
God, in whose hand Thy creatures are,
How shall I drift alone?
130
A PRAYER.
Heaven, send not yet thy messenger!
Thy crystal courts are trod
By angels who resembled her,
Ere they were called to God.
They walk thy floors of starry gold,
Choiring thine awful space,
When round their brows the white wings fold
Before the Father's face.
Their myriads fill thy shining sea,
But Earth has one alone for me.
Thy crystal courts are trod
By angels who resembled her,
Ere they were called to God.
They walk thy floors of starry gold,
Choiring thine awful space,
When round their brows the white wings fold
Before the Father's face.
Their myriads fill thy shining sea,
But Earth has one alone for me.
O, leave her, Heaven! she will not make
Thy bowers more bright and fair,
Nor bid a sweeter harp awake
In thy melodious air;
She will not weave a brighter crown
Of amaranth, on thy shore,
Than cast thy burning seraphs down
When mutely they adore:
But she can bid me hear thy streams
And see thy glory in my dreams.
Thy bowers more bright and fair,
Nor bid a sweeter harp awake
In thy melodious air;
She will not weave a brighter crown
Of amaranth, on thy shore,
Than cast thy burning seraphs down
When mutely they adore:
But she can bid me hear thy streams
And see thy glory in my dreams.
131
Not yet! Thy call should welcome be
As sleep to weary eyes,
Nor leave behind, in mockery,
A pang that never dies:
Should touch the heart like harpings loud,
White wings and waving hair,
Not with a blast that leaves it bowed
In terror and despair.
Thy life is peace, thy world is bliss:
Spare thou my only joy in this!
As sleep to weary eyes,
Nor leave behind, in mockery,
A pang that never dies:
Should touch the heart like harpings loud,
White wings and waving hair,
Not with a blast that leaves it bowed
In terror and despair.
Thy life is peace, thy world is bliss:
Spare thou my only joy in this!
SONGS AND SONNETS
150
THE FOUNTAIN IN WINTER.
The Northern winds are raw and cold,
And whistle o'er the frozen mould;
The gusty branches lash the wall
With icicles that snap and fall.
And whistle o'er the frozen mould;
The gusty branches lash the wall
With icicles that snap and fall.
There is no light on earth to-day;
The very sky is blank and gray,
Yet still the fountain's quivering shaft
Leaps as if Spring around it laughed.
The very sky is blank and gray,
Yet still the fountain's quivering shaft
Leaps as if Spring around it laughed.
The drops that strike the frozen mould
Make all the garden doubly cold,
And with a chill and shivering pain
I hear the fall of sleety rain.
Make all the garden doubly cold,
And with a chill and shivering pain
I hear the fall of sleety rain.
151
The music that, in beamy May,
Told of an endless holiday,
With surly Winter's wailings blent,
Becomes his dreariest instrument.
Told of an endless holiday,
With surly Winter's wailings blent,
Becomes his dreariest instrument.
The water's blithe and sparkling voice,
That all the summer said, “Rejoice!”
Now pours upon the bitter air
The hollow laughter of despair.
That all the summer said, “Rejoice!”
Now pours upon the bitter air
The hollow laughter of despair.
So, when the flowers of Life lie dead
Beneath a darker winter's tread,
The songs that once gave Joy a soul
Bring to the heart its heaviest dole.
Beneath a darker winter's tread,
The songs that once gave Joy a soul
Bring to the heart its heaviest dole.
The fresh delight that leaped and sung
The fragrant bowers of Youth among,
But gives to Sorrow colder tears
And laughs to mock our clouded years.
The fragrant bowers of Youth among,
But gives to Sorrow colder tears
And laughs to mock our clouded years.
| A book of romances, lyrics, and songs | |