University of Virginia Library

SONNETS.

I. THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

Comes winter with an aspect dark to me,
Harried with storms so long? Are his brows stern?
Speaks he a language of asperity,
Unfit for him to speak or me to learn?
And do I shrink from the impending stroke
That follows his keen chiding? Would I fly
The terror of his presence, and that yoke
Borne with so long and so reluctantly?
No! from its prison-house of care and pain
My spirit dares defy him. Well inured
To trial,—I have borne it—not in vain,
Since conquer'd is the destiny endured—
Endured with no base spirit! I have grown
Familiar with the future in the known.

[II. Yet bitter were the lessons of that past]

Yet bitter were the lessons of that past,
When life was one long winter! Childhood knew
Nor blossom nor delight. No sunshine cast
The glory of green leaves about mine eye;
No zephyr, laden with sweet perfumes, blew
For me its Eastern tribute from a sky
Looking down love upon me; and my mood
Yearn'd for its kindred—for the humblest tie
To human hopes and aspirations true!
Sickness, and suffering, and solitude
Couch'd o'er my cradle: cheerless was the glance
That watch'd my slumbers in those feeble hours
When pity, with her tears, her only powers,
Might have brought hope, if not deliverance.

III. CHILDHOOD.

That season which all other men regret,
And strive, with boyish longing, to recall,
Which love permits not memory to forget,
And fancy still restores in dreams of all
That boyhood worshipp'd, or believed, or knew,—
Brings no sweet images to me—was true,
Only in cold and cloud, in lonely days
And gloomy fancies—in defrauded claims,
Defeated hopes, denied, denying aims;—
Cheer'd by no promise—lighted by no rays,
Warm'd by no smile—no mother's smile,—that smile,
Of all, best suited sorrow to beguile,
And strengthen hope, and, by unmark'd degrees,
Encourage to their birth high purposes.

IV. YOUTH.

Why should I fear the winter now, when free
To meet and mingle in the strifes of man;
The danger to defy which now I see,
The oppressor to o'erthrow whom now I can!
Childhood! the season of my weaknesses,
Is gone!—the muscle in my arm is strong;
No longer is there trembling in my knees,
And my soul kindles at the look of wrong,
And burns in free defiance!—never more
Let me recall the hour when I was weak,
To shrink, to seek for refuge, to implore;
When I was scorn'd or trampled, but to speak,
When anger, rising high, though crouching low,
Should, like the tiger, spring upon his foe.

V. STRUGGLE.

Yet, in recalling these vex'd memories,
Mine is no thought of vengeance! If I speak
Of childhood, as a time that found me weak,
I utter no complaint of injuries;
These tried, but did not crush me; and they made
My spirit rise to a superior mood,—
Taught me endurance, and meet hardihood,
And all life's better energies array'd
For that long conflict which must end in death,
Or victory!—and victory shall yet be mine!
They cannot keep me from my right—the spoil
Which is the guerdon of superior toil—
Devotion that, defying hostile breath,
Ceased not to “watch and pray,” though stars refused to shine!

VI. MANHOOD.

Manhood at last!—and, with its consciousness,
Are strength and freedom; freedom to pursue
The purposes of hope—the godlike bliss,
Born in the struggle for the great and true!
And every energy that should be mine,
This day, I dedicate to its object,—Life!
So help me Heaven, that never I resign
The duty which devotes me to the strife;—
The enduring conflict which demands my strength,
Whether of soul or body, to the last;
The tribute of my years, through all their length,—
The future's compensation to the past!—
Boy's pleasures are for boyhood—its best cares
Befit us not in our performing years.