 | The complete poetical writings of J. G. Holland |  |
461
SHORTER POEMS
THE PALMER'S VISION.
Noon o'er Judea! All the air was beating
With the hot pulses of the day's great heart;
The birds were silent, and the rill retreating
Shrank in its covert, and complained apart,
With the hot pulses of the day's great heart;
The birds were silent, and the rill retreating
Shrank in its covert, and complained apart,
When a lone pilgrim, with his scrip and burdon,
Dropped by the wayside, weary and distressed,
His sinking heart grown faithless of its guerdon—
The city of his recompense and rest.
Dropped by the wayside, weary and distressed,
His sinking heart grown faithless of its guerdon—
The city of his recompense and rest.
No vision yet of Galilee and Tabor!
No glimpse of distant Zion throned and crowned!
Behind him stretched his long and useless labor,
Before him lay the parched and stony ground.
No glimpse of distant Zion throned and crowned!
Behind him stretched his long and useless labor,
Before him lay the parched and stony ground.
He leaned against a shrine of Mary, casting
Its balm of shadow on his aching head,
And worn with toil, and faint with cruel fasting,
He sighed: “O God! O God, that I were dead!
Its balm of shadow on his aching head,
And worn with toil, and faint with cruel fasting,
He sighed: “O God! O God, that I were dead!
“The friends I loved are lost or left behind me;
In penury and loneliness I roam;
These endless paths of penance choke and blind me;
Oh come and take thy wasted pilgrim home!”
In penury and loneliness I roam;
These endless paths of penance choke and blind me;
Oh come and take thy wasted pilgrim home!”
462
Then with the form of Mary bending o'er him,
Her hands in changeless benediction stayed,
The palmer slept, while a swift dream upbore him
To the fair paradise for which he prayed.
Her hands in changeless benediction stayed,
The palmer slept, while a swift dream upbore him
To the fair paradise for which he prayed.
He stood alone, wrapped in divinest wonder;
He saw the pearly gates and jasper walls
Informed with light, and heard the far-off thunder
Of chariot wheels and mighty waterfalls!
He saw the pearly gates and jasper walls
Informed with light, and heard the far-off thunder
Of chariot wheels and mighty waterfalls!
From far and near, in rhythmic palpitations,
Rose on the air the noise of shouts and psalms;
And through the gates he saw the ransomed nations,
Marching and waving their triumphant palms.
Rose on the air the noise of shouts and psalms;
And through the gates he saw the ransomed nations,
Marching and waving their triumphant palms.
And white within the thronging Empyrean,
A golden palm-branch in his kingly hand,
He saw his Lord, the gracious Galilean,
Amid the worship of his myriads stand!
A golden palm-branch in his kingly hand,
He saw his Lord, the gracious Galilean,
Amid the worship of his myriads stand!
“O Jesus! Lord of glory! Bid me enter!
I worship thee! I kiss thy holy rood!”
The pilgrim cried, when from the burning center
A broad-winged angel sought him where he stood.
I worship thee! I kiss thy holy rood!”
The pilgrim cried, when from the burning center
A broad-winged angel sought him where he stood.
“Why art thou here?” in accents deep and tender
Outspoke the messenger. “Dost thou not know
That none may win the city's rest and splendor,
Who do not cut their palms in Jericho?
Outspoke the messenger. “Dost thou not know
That none may win the city's rest and splendor,
Who do not cut their palms in Jericho?
“Go back to earth, thou palmer empty-handed!
Go back to hunger and the toilsome way!
Complete the task that duty hath commanded,
And win the palm thou hast not brought to-day!”
Go back to hunger and the toilsome way!
Complete the task that duty hath commanded,
And win the palm thou hast not brought to-day!”
463
And then the sleeper woke, and gazed around him;
Then springing to his feet with life renewed,
He spurned the faithless weakness that had bound him,
And, faring on, his pilgrimage pursued.
Then springing to his feet with life renewed,
He spurned the faithless weakness that had bound him,
And, faring on, his pilgrimage pursued.
The way was hard, and he grew halt and weary,
But one long day, among the evening hours,
He saw beyond a landscape gray and dreary
The sunset flame on Salem's sacred towers!
But one long day, among the evening hours,
He saw beyond a landscape gray and dreary
The sunset flame on Salem's sacred towers!
O, fainting soul that readest well this story,
Longing through pain for death's benignant balm,
Think not to win a heaven of rest and glory
If thou shalt reach its gates without thy palm!
Longing through pain for death's benignant balm,
Think not to win a heaven of rest and glory
If thou shalt reach its gates without thy palm!
TO WHITTIER ON HIS SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY.
Ten gentle-hearted boys of seven,
Too young and sweet to stray from heaven,
Will—counting up the little men—
Amount to three score years and ten.
Too young and sweet to stray from heaven,
Will—counting up the little men—
Amount to three score years and ten.
Two gracious men of thirty-five,
With wits alight and hearts alive,
Will fill complete the rounded spheres
Of seventy strong and manly years.
With wits alight and hearts alive,
Will fill complete the rounded spheres
Of seventy strong and manly years.
Nay, Whittier, thou art not old;
Thy register a lie hath told,
For lives devote to love and truth
Do only multiply their youth.
Thy register a lie hath told,
For lives devote to love and truth
Do only multiply their youth.
464
Thou art ten gentle boys of seven,
With souls too sweet to stray from heaven:
Thou art two men of thirty-five,
With wits alight, and hearts alive!
With souls too sweet to stray from heaven:
Thou art two men of thirty-five,
With wits alight, and hearts alive!
A GLIMPSE OF YOUTH.
Maiden, I thank thee for thy face,
Thy sweet, shy glance of conscious eyes:
For, from thy beauty and thy grace,
My life has won a glad surprise.
Thy sweet, shy glance of conscious eyes:
For, from thy beauty and thy grace,
My life has won a glad surprise.
I met thee on the crowded street—
A load of care on heart and brain—
And, for a moment, bright and fleet,
The vision made me young again.
A load of care on heart and brain—
And, for a moment, bright and fleet,
The vision made me young again.
And then I thought, as on I went,
And struggled through the thronging ways,
How every age's complement
The age that follows overlays.
And struggled through the thronging ways,
How every age's complement
The age that follows overlays.
The youth upon the child shuts down;
Young manhood closes over youth;
And ripe old age is but the crown
That keeps them both in changeless truth!
Young manhood closes over youth;
And ripe old age is but the crown
That keeps them both in changeless truth!
So, every little child I see,
With brow and spirit undefiled,
And simple faith and frolic glee,
Finds still in me another child.
With brow and spirit undefiled,
And simple faith and frolic glee,
Finds still in me another child.
465
Toward every brave and careless boy
Whose lusty shout or call I hear,
The boy within me springs with joy
And rings an echo to his cheer!
Whose lusty shout or call I hear,
The boy within me springs with joy
And rings an echo to his cheer!
What was it, when thy face I saw,
That moved my spirit like a breeze,
Responsive to the primal law
Of youth's entrancing harmonies?
That moved my spirit like a breeze,
Responsive to the primal law
Of youth's entrancing harmonies?
Ah! little maid—so sweet and shy—
Building each day thy fair romance—
Thou didst not dream a youth passed by,
When I returned thee glance for glance!
Building each day thy fair romance—
Thou didst not dream a youth passed by,
When I returned thee glance for glance!
For all my youth is still my own,—
Bound in the volume of my age,—
And breath from thee hath only blown
The leaves back to the golden page!
Bound in the volume of my age,—
And breath from thee hath only blown
The leaves back to the golden page!
A GOLDEN WEDDING-SONG.
The links of fifty golden years
Reach to the golden ring
Which now, with glad and grateful tears,
We celebrate and sing.
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
That have the years defied;
And still in happy bondage hold
The old man and his bride!
Reach to the golden ring
Which now, with glad and grateful tears,
We celebrate and sing.
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
That have the years defied;
And still in happy bondage hold
The old man and his bride!
466
The locks are white that once were black;
The sight is feebler grown;
But through the long and weary track
The heart has held its own!
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
That time could not divide;
That kept through changes manifold
The old man with his bride!
The sight is feebler grown;
But through the long and weary track
The heart has held its own!
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
That time could not divide;
That kept through changes manifold
The old man with his bride!
The little ones have come and gone;
The old have passed away;
But love—immortal love—lives on,
And blossoms 'mid decay.
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
That have the years defied;
And still with growing strength infold
The old man and his bride!
The old have passed away;
But love—immortal love—lives on,
And blossoms 'mid decay.
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
That have the years defied;
And still with growing strength infold
The old man and his bride!
The golden bridal! ah, how sweet
The music of its bell,
To those whose hearts the vows repeat
Their lives have kept so well!
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
O marriage true and tried!
That bind with tenderness untold
The old man to his bride!
The music of its bell,
To those whose hearts the vows repeat
Their lives have kept so well!
O chain of love! O ring of gold!
O marriage true and tried!
That bind with tenderness untold
The old man to his bride!
467
DANIEL GRAY.
If I shall ever win the home in heaven
For whose sweet rest I humbly hope and pray,
In the great company of the forgiven
I shall be sure to find old Daniel Gray.
For whose sweet rest I humbly hope and pray,
In the great company of the forgiven
I shall be sure to find old Daniel Gray.
I knew him well; in truth, few knew him better;
For my young eyes oft read for him the Word,
And saw how meekly from the crystal letter
He drank the life of his beloved Lord.
For my young eyes oft read for him the Word,
And saw how meekly from the crystal letter
He drank the life of his beloved Lord.
Old Daniel Gray was not a man who lifted
On ready words his freight of gratitude,
Nor was he called among the gifted,
In the prayer-meetings of his neighborhood.
On ready words his freight of gratitude,
Nor was he called among the gifted,
In the prayer-meetings of his neighborhood.
He had a few old-fashioned words and phrases,
Linked in with sacred texts and Sunday rhymes;
And I suppose that in his prayers and graces,
I've heard them all at least a thousand times.
Linked in with sacred texts and Sunday rhymes;
And I suppose that in his prayers and graces,
I've heard them all at least a thousand times.
I see him now—his form, his face, his motions,
His homespun habit, and his silver hair,—
And hear the language of his trite devotions,
Rising behind the straight-backed kitchen chair.
His homespun habit, and his silver hair,—
And hear the language of his trite devotions,
Rising behind the straight-backed kitchen chair.
I can remember how the sentence sounded—
“Help us, O Lord, to pray and not to faint!”
And how the “conquering-and-to conquer” rounded
The loftier aspirations of the saint.
“Help us, O Lord, to pray and not to faint!”
And how the “conquering-and-to conquer” rounded
The loftier aspirations of the saint.
468
He had some notions that did not improve him,
He never kissed his children so they say;
And finest scenes and fairest flowers would move him
Less than a horse-shoe picked up in the way.
He never kissed his children so they say;
And finest scenes and fairest flowers would move him
Less than a horse-shoe picked up in the way.
He had a hearty hatred of oppression,
And righteous words for sin of every kind;
Alas, that the transgressor and transgression
Were linked so closely in his honest mind!
And righteous words for sin of every kind;
Alas, that the transgressor and transgression
Were linked so closely in his honest mind!
He could see naught but vanity in beauty,
And naught but weakness in a fond caress,
And pitied men whose views of Christian duty
Allowed indulgence in such foolishness.
And naught but weakness in a fond caress,
And pitied men whose views of Christian duty
Allowed indulgence in such foolishness.
Yet there were love and tenderness within him;
And I am told that when his Charley died,
Nor nature's need nor gentle words could win him
From his fond vigils at the sleeper's side.
And I am told that when his Charley died,
Nor nature's need nor gentle words could win him
From his fond vigils at the sleeper's side.
And when they came to bury little Charlie,
They found fresh dew-drops sprinkled in his hair,
And on his breast a rose-bud gathered early,
And guessed, but did not know who placed it there.
They found fresh dew-drops sprinkled in his hair,
And on his breast a rose-bud gathered early,
And guessed, but did not know who placed it there.
Honest and faithful, constant in his calling,
Strictly attendant on the means of grace,
Instant in prayer, and fearful most of falling,
Old Daniel Gray was always in his place.
Strictly attendant on the means of grace,
Instant in prayer, and fearful most of falling,
Old Daniel Gray was always in his place.
A practical old man, and yet a dreamer,
He thought that in some strange, unlooked-for way
His mighty Friend in Heaven, the great Redeemer,
Would honor him with wealth some golden day.
He thought that in some strange, unlooked-for way
His mighty Friend in Heaven, the great Redeemer,
Would honor him with wealth some golden day.
469
This dream he carried in a hopeful spirit
Until in death his patient eye grew dim,
And his Redeemer called him to inherit
The heaven of wealth long garnered up for him.
Until in death his patient eye grew dim,
And his Redeemer called him to inherit
The heaven of wealth long garnered up for him.
So, if I ever win the home in heaven
For whose sweet rest I humbly hope and pray,
In the great company of the forgiven
I shall be sure to find old Daniel Gray.
For whose sweet rest I humbly hope and pray,
In the great company of the forgiven
I shall be sure to find old Daniel Gray.
MERLE THE COUNSELLOR.
Old Merle, the counsellor and guide,
And tall young Rolfe walked side by side
At the sweet hour of eventide.
And tall young Rolfe walked side by side
At the sweet hour of eventide.
The yellow light of parting day
Upon the peaceful landscape lay,
And touched the mountain far away.
Upon the peaceful landscape lay,
And touched the mountain far away.
The tinkling of the distant herds,
And the low twitter of the birds
Mingled with childhood's happy words.
And the low twitter of the birds
Mingled with childhood's happy words.
The old man raised his trembling palm,
And bared his brow to meet the balm
That fell with twilight's dewy calm;
And bared his brow to meet the balm
That fell with twilight's dewy calm;
And one could see that to his thought,
The scenes and sounds around him brought
Suggestions of the heaven he sought.
The scenes and sounds around him brought
Suggestions of the heaven he sought.
470
But Rolfe, his young companion, bent
His moody brow in discontent,
And sadly murmured as he went.
His moody brow in discontent,
And sadly murmured as he went.
For vagrant passions, fierce and grim,
And fearful memories haunted him,
That made the evening glory dim.
And fearful memories haunted him,
That made the evening glory dim.
Then spoke the cheerful voice of Merle:
“Where yonder clouds their gold unfurl,
One almost sees the gates of pearl.
“Where yonder clouds their gold unfurl,
One almost sees the gates of pearl.
“Nay, one can hardly look amiss
For heaven, in such a scene as this,
Or fail to feel its present bliss.
For heaven, in such a scene as this,
Or fail to feel its present bliss.
“So near we stand to holy things,
And all our high imaginings,
That faith forgets to lift her wings!”
And all our high imaginings,
That faith forgets to lift her wings!”
Then answered Rolfe, with bitter tone:
“If thou hast visions of the throne,
Enjoy them; they are all thy own.
“If thou hast visions of the throne,
Enjoy them; they are all thy own.
“For me there lives no God of love;
For me there bends no heaven above;
And Peace, the gently brooding dove,
For me there bends no heaven above;
And Peace, the gently brooding dove,
“Has flown afar, and in her stead
Fierce vultures wheel above my head,
And hope is sick and faith is dead.
Fierce vultures wheel above my head,
And hope is sick and faith is dead.
“Death can but loose a loathsome bond,
And from the depths of my despond,
I see no ray of light beyond.”
And from the depths of my despond,
I see no ray of light beyond.”
471
It was a sad, discordant strain,
That brought old Merle to earth again,
And filled his soul with solemn pain.
That brought old Merle to earth again,
And filled his soul with solemn pain.
At length they reached a leafy wood,
And walked in silence, till they stood
Within the fragrant solitude.
And walked in silence, till they stood
Within the fragrant solitude.
Then spake old Merle with gentle art:
“I know the secret of thy heart,
And will, if thou desire, impart.”
“I know the secret of thy heart,
And will, if thou desire, impart.”
Rolfe answered with a hopeless sigh,
But from the tear that brimmed his eye,
The old man gladly caught reply,
But from the tear that brimmed his eye,
The old man gladly caught reply,
And spoke: “Beyond these forest trees
A city stands; and sparkling seas
Waft up to it the evening breeze,
A city stands; and sparkling seas
Waft up to it the evening breeze,
“Thou canst not see its gilded domes,
Its plume of smoke, its pleasant homes,
Or catch the gleam of surf that foams
Its plume of smoke, its pleasant homes,
Or catch the gleam of surf that foams
“And dies upon its verdant shore,
But there it stands; and there the roar
Of life shall swell for evermore!
But there it stands; and there the roar
Of life shall swell for evermore!
“The path we walk is fair and wide,
But still our vision is denied
The city and its nursing tide.
But still our vision is denied
The city and its nursing tide.
“The path we walk is wide and fair,
But curves and wanders here and there,
And builds the wall of our despair.
But curves and wanders here and there,
And builds the wall of our despair.
472
“Make straight the path, and then shall shine
Through trembling walls of tree and vine
The vision fair for which we pine.
Through trembling walls of tree and vine
The vision fair for which we pine.
“And thou, my son, so long hast been
Along the crooked ways of sin,
That they have closed, and shut thee in.
Along the crooked ways of sin,
That they have closed, and shut thee in.
“Make straight the path before thy feet,
And walk within it firm and fleet,
And thou shalt see, in vision sweet
And walk within it firm and fleet,
And thou shalt see, in vision sweet
“And constant as the love supreme,
With closer gaze and brighter beam,
The peaceful heaven that fills my dream.”
With closer gaze and brighter beam,
The peaceful heaven that fills my dream.”
He paused: no more his lips could say;
And then, beneath the twilight gray,
The silent pair retraced their way.
And then, beneath the twilight gray,
The silent pair retraced their way.
But in the young man's eyes a light
Shone strong and resolute and bright,
For which Merle thanked his God that night.
Shone strong and resolute and bright,
For which Merle thanked his God that night.
WANTED.
God give us men! A time like this demandsStrong minds, great hearts, true faith, and ready hands;
Men whom the lust of office does not kill;
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy;
Men who possess opinions and a will;
Men who have honor,—men who will not lie;
473
And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking!
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog
In public duty, and in private thinking:
For while the rabble, with their thumb-worn creeds,
Their large professions and their little deeds,—
Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps,
Wrong rules the land, and waiting Justice sleeps!
VERSES READ AT THE HADLEY CENTENNIAL.
(June 9, 1859.)
Heart of Hadley, slowly beating
Under midnight's azure breast,
Silence thy strong pulse repeating
Wakes me—shakes me—from my rest.
Under midnight's azure breast,
Silence thy strong pulse repeating
Wakes me—shakes me—from my rest.
Hark! a beggar at the basement!
Listen! friends are at the door!
There's a lover at the casement!
There are feet upon the floor!
Listen! friends are at the door!
There's a lover at the casement!
There are feet upon the floor!
But they knock with muffled hammers,
They step softly like the rain,
And repeat their gentle clamors
Till I sleep and dream again.
They step softly like the rain,
And repeat their gentle clamors
Till I sleep and dream again.
474
Still the knocking at the basement;
Still the rapping at the door;
Tireless lover at the casement;
Ceaseless feet upon the floor.
Still the rapping at the door;
Tireless lover at the casement;
Ceaseless feet upon the floor.
Bolts are loosed by spectral fingers,
Windows open through the gloom,
And the lilacs and syringas
Breathe their perfume through the room.
Windows open through the gloom,
And the lilacs and syringas
Breathe their perfume through the room.
'Mid the odorous pulsations
Of the air around my bed,
Throng the ghostly generations
Of the long forgotten dead.
Of the air around my bed,
Throng the ghostly generations
Of the long forgotten dead.
“Rise and write!” with gentle pleading
They command, and I obey;
And I give to you the reading
Of their tender words to-day:
They command, and I obey;
And I give to you the reading
Of their tender words to-day:
“Children of the old plantation,
Heirs of all we won and held,
Greet us in your celebration—
Us—the nameless ones of Eld!
Heirs of all we won and held,
Greet us in your celebration—
Us—the nameless ones of Eld!
“We were never squires or teachers,
We were neither wise nor great,
But we listened to our preachers,
Worshipped God and loved the State.
We were neither wise nor great,
But we listened to our preachers,
Worshipped God and loved the State.
“Blood of ours is on the meadow,
Dust of ours is in the soil,
But no marble casts a shadow
Where we slumber from our toil.
Dust of ours is in the soil,
But no marble casts a shadow
Where we slumber from our toil.
475
“Unremembered, unrecorded,
We are sleeping side by side,
And to names is now awarded
That for which the nameless died.
We are sleeping side by side,
And to names is now awarded
That for which the nameless died.
“We were men of humble station;
We were women pure and true;
And we served our generation,—
Lived and worked and fought for you.
We were women pure and true;
And we served our generation,—
Lived and worked and fought for you.
“We were maidens, we were lovers,
We were husbands, we were wives;
But oblivion's mantle covers
All the sweetness of our lives.”
We were husbands, we were wives;
But oblivion's mantle covers
All the sweetness of our lives.”
“Praise the men who ruled and led us;
Carry garlands to their graves;
But remember that your meadows
Were not planted by their slaves.
Carry garlands to their graves;
But remember that your meadows
Were not planted by their slaves.
“Children of the old plantation,
Heirs of all we won and held,
Greet us in your celebration,—
Us, the nameless ones of Eld.”
Heirs of all we won and held,
Greet us in your celebration,—
Us, the nameless ones of Eld.”
This their message, and I send it,
Faithful to their sweet behest,
And my toast shall e'en attend it,
To be read among the rest.
Faithful to their sweet behest,
And my toast shall e'en attend it,
To be read among the rest.
Fill to all the brave and blameless
Who, forgotten, passed away!
Drink the memory of the nameless,—
Only named in heaven to-day!
Who, forgotten, passed away!
Drink the memory of the nameless,—
Only named in heaven to-day!
The pulsations of Hadley Falls, on the Connecticut, are felt for many miles around, in favorable conditions of the atmosphere.
476
A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
There's a song in the air!
There's a star in the sky!
There's a mother's deep prayer
And a baby's low cry!
And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.
There's a star in the sky!
There's a mother's deep prayer
And a baby's low cry!
And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.
There's a tumult of joy
O'er the wonderful birth,
For the virgin's sweet boy
Is the Lord of the earth,
Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king!
O'er the wonderful birth,
For the virgin's sweet boy
Is the Lord of the earth,
Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king!
In the light of that star
Lie the ages impearled;
And that song from afar
Has swept over the world.
Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful sing
In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.
Lie the ages impearled;
And that song from afar
Has swept over the world.
Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful sing
In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.
We rejoice in the light,
And we echo the song
That comes down through the night
From the heavenly throng.
Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they bring,
And we greet in his cradle our Saviour and King!
And we echo the song
That comes down through the night
From the heavenly throng.
Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they bring,
And we greet in his cradle our Saviour and King!
477
THE OLD CLOCK OF PRAGUE.
There's a curious clock in the city of Prague—
A remarkable old astronomical clock—
With a dial whose outline is that of an egg,
And with figures and fingers a wonderful stock.
A remarkable old astronomical clock—
With a dial whose outline is that of an egg,
And with figures and fingers a wonderful stock.
It announces the dawn and the death of the day,
Shows the phases of moons and the changes of tides,
Counts the months and the years as they vanish away,
And performs quite a number of marvels besides.
Shows the phases of moons and the changes of tides,
Counts the months and the years as they vanish away,
And performs quite a number of marvels besides.
At the left of the dial a skeleton stands;
And aloft hangs a musical bell in the tower,
Which he rings, by a rope that he holds in his hands,
In his punctual function of striking the hour.
And aloft hangs a musical bell in the tower,
Which he rings, by a rope that he holds in his hands,
In his punctual function of striking the hour.
And the skeleton nods, as he tugs at the rope,
At an odd little figure that eyes him aghast,
As a hint that the bell rings the knell of his hope,
And the hour that is solemnly tolled is his last.
At an odd little figure that eyes him aghast,
As a hint that the bell rings the knell of his hope,
And the hour that is solemnly tolled is his last.
And the effigy turns its queer features away
(Much as if for a snickering fit or a sneeze),
With a shrug and a shudder, that struggle to say:
“Pray excuse me, but—just an hour more, if you please!”
(Much as if for a snickering fit or a sneeze),
With a shrug and a shudder, that struggle to say:
“Pray excuse me, but—just an hour more, if you please!”
But the funniest sight, of the numerous sights
Which the clock has to show to the people below,
Is the Holy Apostles in tunics and tights,
Who revolve in a ring, or proceed in a row.
Which the clock has to show to the people below,
Is the Holy Apostles in tunics and tights,
Who revolve in a ring, or proceed in a row.
478
Their appearance can hardly be counted sublime;
And their movements are formal, it must be allowed;
But they're prompt, for they always appear upon time,
And polite, for they bow very low to the crowd.
And their movements are formal, it must be allowed;
But they're prompt, for they always appear upon time,
And polite, for they bow very low to the crowd.
This machine (so reliable papers record)
Was the work, from his own very clever design
Of one Hanusch, who died in the year of our Lord
One thousand four hundred and ninety and nine.
Was the work, from his own very clever design
Of one Hanusch, who died in the year of our Lord
One thousand four hundred and ninety and nine.
Did the people receive it with honor? you ask;
Did it bring a reward to the builder? Ah, well!
It was proper that they should have paid for the task!
And they did, in a way that it shocks me to tell.
Did it bring a reward to the builder? Ah, well!
It was proper that they should have paid for the task!
And they did, in a way that it shocks me to tell.
For suspecting that Hanusch might grow to be vain,
Or that cities around them might covet their prize,
They invented a story that he was insane,
And, to stop him from labor, extinguished his eyes!
Or that cities around them might covet their prize,
They invented a story that he was insane,
And, to stop him from labor, extinguished his eyes!
But the cunning old artist, though dying in shame,
May be sure that he labored and lived not amiss;
For his clock has outlasted the foes of his fame,
And the world owes him much for a lesson like this:
May be sure that he labored and lived not amiss;
For his clock has outlasted the foes of his fame,
And the world owes him much for a lesson like this:
That a private success is a public offence,
That a citizen's fame is a city's disgrace,
And that both should be shunned by a person of sense,
Who would live with a whole pair of eyes in his face.
That a citizen's fame is a city's disgrace,
And that both should be shunned by a person of sense,
Who would live with a whole pair of eyes in his face.
479
ALBERT DURER'S STUDIO.
In the house of Albert Durer
Still is seen the studio
Where the pretty Nurembergers
(Cheeks of rose and necks of snow)
Sat to have their portraits painted,
Thrice a hundred years ago.
Still is seen the studio
Where the pretty Nurembergers
(Cheeks of rose and necks of snow)
Sat to have their portraits painted,
Thrice a hundred years ago.
Still is seen the little loop-hole
Where Frau Durer's jealous care
Watched the artist at his labor,
And the sitter in her chair,
To observe each word and motion
That should pass between the pair.
Where Frau Durer's jealous care
Watched the artist at his labor,
And the sitter in her chair,
To observe each word and motion
That should pass between the pair.
Handsome, hapless Albert Durer
Was as circumspect and true
As the most correct of husbands,
When the dear delightful shrew
Has him, and his sweet companions,
Every moment under view.
Was as circumspect and true
As the most correct of husbands,
When the dear delightful shrew
Has him, and his sweet companions,
Every moment under view.
But I trow that Albert Durer
Had within his heart a spot
Where he sat, and painted pictures
That gave beauty to his lot,
And the sharp, intrusive vision
Of Frau Durer entered not.
Had within his heart a spot
Where he sat, and painted pictures
That gave beauty to his lot,
And the sharp, intrusive vision
Of Frau Durer entered not.
480
Ah! if brains and hearts had loop-holes,
And Frau Durer could have seen
All the pictures that his fancy
Hung upon their walls within,
How minute had been her watching,
And how good he would have been!
And Frau Durer could have seen
All the pictures that his fancy
Hung upon their walls within,
How minute had been her watching,
And how good he would have been!
ALONE!
All alone in the world! all alone!
With a child on my knee, or a wife on my breast,
Or, sitting beside me, the beautiful guest
Whom my heart leaps to greet as its sweetest and best,
Still alone in the world! all alone!
With a child on my knee, or a wife on my breast,
Or, sitting beside me, the beautiful guest
Whom my heart leaps to greet as its sweetest and best,
Still alone in the world! all alone!
With my visions of beauty, alone!
Too fair to be painted, too fleet to be scanned,
Too regal to stay at my feeble command,
They pass from the grasp of my impotent hand:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
Too fair to be painted, too fleet to be scanned,
Too regal to stay at my feeble command,
They pass from the grasp of my impotent hand:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
Alone with my conscience, alone!
Not an eye that can see when its finger of flame
Points my soul to its sin, or consumes it with shame!
Not an ear that can hear its low whisper of blame!
Still alone in the world! all alone!
Not an eye that can see when its finger of flame
Points my soul to its sin, or consumes it with shame!
Not an ear that can hear its low whisper of blame!
Still alone in the world! all alone!
In my visions of self, all alone!
The weakness, the meanness, the guilt that I see,
The fool or the fiend I am tempted to be,
Can only be seen and repented by me:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
The weakness, the meanness, the guilt that I see,
The fool or the fiend I am tempted to be,
Can only be seen and repented by me:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
481
Alone in my worship, alone!
No hand in the universe, joining with mine,
Can lift what it lays on the altar divine,
Or bear what it offers aloft to its shrine:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
No hand in the universe, joining with mine,
Can lift what it lays on the altar divine,
Or bear what it offers aloft to its shrine:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
In the valley of death, all alone!
The sighs and the tears of my friends are in vain,
For mine is the passage, and mine is the pain,
And mine the sad sinking of bosom and brain:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
The sighs and the tears of my friends are in vain,
For mine is the passage, and mine is the pain,
And mine the sad sinking of bosom and brain:
Still alone in the world! all alone!
Not alone! never, never alone!
There is one who is with me by day and by night,
Who sees and inspires all my visions of light,
And teaches my conscience its office aright:
Not alone in the world! not alone!
There is one who is with me by day and by night,
Who sees and inspires all my visions of light,
And teaches my conscience its office aright:
Not alone in the world! not alone!
Not alone! never, never alone!
He sees all my weakness with pitying eyes,
He helps me to lift my faint heart to the skies,
And in my last passion he suffers and dies:
Not alone! never, never alone!
He sees all my weakness with pitying eyes,
He helps me to lift my faint heart to the skies,
And in my last passion he suffers and dies:
Not alone! never, never alone!
SONG AND SILENCE.
“My Mabel, you once had a bird
In your throat; and it sang all the day!
But now it sings never a word:
Has the bird flown away?
In your throat; and it sang all the day!
But now it sings never a word:
Has the bird flown away?
482
“Oh sing to me, Mabel, again!
Strike the chords! Let the old fountain flow
With its balm for my fever and pain,
As it did years ago!”
Strike the chords! Let the old fountain flow
With its balm for my fever and pain,
As it did years ago!”
Mabel sighed (while a tear filled and fell,)
“I have bade all my singing adieu;
But I've a true story to tell,
And I'll tell it to you.
“I have bade all my singing adieu;
But I've a true story to tell,
And I'll tell it to you.
“There's a bird's nest up there in the oak,
On the bough that hangs over the stream,
And last night the mother-bird broke
Into song in her dream.
On the bough that hangs over the stream,
And last night the mother-bird broke
Into song in her dream.
“This morning she woke, and was still;
For she thought of the frail little things
That needed her motherly bill,
Waiting under her wings.
For she thought of the frail little things
That needed her motherly bill,
Waiting under her wings.
“And busily, all the day long,
She hunted and carried their food,
And forgot both herself and her song
In her care for her brood.
She hunted and carried their food,
And forgot both herself and her song
In her care for her brood.
“I sang in my dream, and you heard;
I woke, and you wonder I'm still:
But a mother is always a bird
With a fly in its bill!”
I woke, and you wonder I'm still:
But a mother is always a bird
With a fly in its bill!”
483
WHERE SHALL THE BABY'S DIMPLE BE?
Over the cradle the mother hung,
Softly crooning a slumber-song;
And these were the simple words she sung
All the evening long:
Softly crooning a slumber-song;
And these were the simple words she sung
All the evening long:
“Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee,
Where shall the baby's dimple be?
Where shall the angel's finger rest
When he comes down to the baby's nest?
Where shall the angel's touch remain
When he awakens my babe again?”
Where shall the baby's dimple be?
Where shall the angel's finger rest
When he comes down to the baby's nest?
Where shall the angel's touch remain
When he awakens my babe again?”
Still as she bent and sang so low,
A murmur into her music broke;
And she paused to hear, for she could but know
The baby's angel spoke.
A murmur into her music broke;
And she paused to hear, for she could but know
The baby's angel spoke.
“Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee,
Where shall the baby's dimple be?
Where shall my finger fall and rest
When I come down to the baby's nest?
Where shall my finger's touch remain
When I awaken your babe again?”
Where shall the baby's dimple be?
Where shall my finger fall and rest
When I come down to the baby's nest?
Where shall my finger's touch remain
When I awaken your babe again?”
Silent the mother sat, and dwelt
Long in the sweet delay of choice;
And then by her baby's side she knelt.
And sang with pleasant voice:
Long in the sweet delay of choice;
And then by her baby's side she knelt.
And sang with pleasant voice:
484
“Not on the limb, O angel dear!
For the charm with its youth will disappear;
Not on the cheek shall the dimple be,
For the harboring smile will fade and flee;
But touch thou the chin with an impress deep,
And my baby the angel's seal shall keep.”
For the charm with its youth will disappear;
Not on the cheek shall the dimple be,
For the harboring smile will fade and flee;
But touch thou the chin with an impress deep,
And my baby the angel's seal shall keep.”
TO A SLEEPING SINGER.
Love in her heart, and song upon her lip—A daughter, friend, and wife—
She lived a beauteous life,
And love and song shall bless her in her sleep.
The flowers whose language she interpreted,
The delicate airs, calm eves, and starry skies
That touched so sweetly her chaste sympathies,
And all the grieving souls she comforted,
Will bathe in separate sorrows the dear mound,
Where heart and harp lie silent and profound.
Oh, Woman! all the songs thou left to us
We will preserve for thee, in grateful love;
Give thou return of our affection thus,
And keep for us the songs thou sing'st above!
485
EUREKA.
Whom I crown with love is royal;
Matters not her blood or birth;
She is queen, and I am loyal
To the noblest of the earth.
Matters not her blood or birth;
She is queen, and I am loyal
To the noblest of the earth.
Neither place, nor wealth, nor title,
Lacks the man my friendship owns;
His distinction, true and vital,
Shines supreme o'er crowns and thrones.
Lacks the man my friendship owns;
His distinction, true and vital,
Shines supreme o'er crowns and thrones.
Where true love bestows its sweetness,
Where true friendship lays its hand,
Dwells all greatness, all completeness,
All the wealth of every land.
Where true friendship lays its hand,
Dwells all greatness, all completeness,
All the wealth of every land.
Man is greater than condition,
And where man himself bestows,
He begets, and gives position
To the gentlest that he knows.
And where man himself bestows,
He begets, and gives position
To the gentlest that he knows.
Neither miracle nor fable
Is the water changed to wine;
Lords and ladies at my table
Prove Love's simplest fare divine.
Is the water changed to wine;
Lords and ladies at my table
Prove Love's simplest fare divine.
And if these accept my duty,
If the loved my homage own,
I have won all worth and beauty;
I have found the magic stone.
If the loved my homage own,
I have won all worth and beauty;
I have found the magic stone.
486
RETURNING CLOUDS.
The clouds are returning after the rain.
All the long morning they steadily sweep
From the blue Northwest, o'er the upper main,
In a peaceful flight to their Eastern sleep.
All the long morning they steadily sweep
From the blue Northwest, o'er the upper main,
In a peaceful flight to their Eastern sleep.
With sails that the cool wind fills or furls,
And shadows that darken the billowy grass,
Freighted with amber, or piled with pearls,
Fleets of fair argosies rise and pass.
And shadows that darken the billowy grass,
Freighted with amber, or piled with pearls,
Fleets of fair argosies rise and pass.
The earth smiles back to the smiling throng
From greening pasture and blooming field,
For the earth that had sickened with thirst so long
Has been touched by the hand of The Rain, and healed.
From greening pasture and blooming field,
For the earth that had sickened with thirst so long
Has been touched by the hand of The Rain, and healed.
The old man sits 'neath the tall elm trees,
And watches the pageant with dreamy eyes,
While his white locks stir to the same cool breeze
That scatters the silver along the skies.
And watches the pageant with dreamy eyes,
While his white locks stir to the same cool breeze
That scatters the silver along the skies.
The old man's eyelids are wet with tears—
Tears of sweet pleasure and sweeter pain—
For his thoughts are driving back over the years
In beautiful clouds after life's long rain.
Tears of sweet pleasure and sweeter pain—
For his thoughts are driving back over the years
In beautiful clouds after life's long rain.
Sorrows that drowned all the springs of his life,
Trials that crushed him with pitiless beat,
Storms of temptation and tempests of strife,
Float o'er his memory tranquil and sweet.
Trials that crushed him with pitiless beat,
Storms of temptation and tempests of strife,
Float o'er his memory tranquil and sweet.
487
And the old man's spirit, made soft and bright
By the long, long rain that had bent him low,
Sees a vision of angels on wings of white,
In the trooping clouds as they come and go.
By the long, long rain that had bent him low,
Sees a vision of angels on wings of white,
In the trooping clouds as they come and go.
GRADATIM.
Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.
I count this thing to be grandly true:
That a noble deed is a step toward God,—
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.
That a noble deed is a step toward God,—
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.
We rise by the things that are under feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain;
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.
By what we have mastered of good and gain;
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.
We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light,
But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night,
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.
When the morning calls us to life and light,
But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night,
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.
We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.
488
Wings for the angels, but feet for men!
We may borrow the wings to find the way—
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.
We may borrow the wings to find the way—
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.
Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.
Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.
ON THE RIGHT.
On the Righi Kulm we stood,
Lovely Floribel and I,
While the morning's crimson flood
Streamed along the eastern sky.
Reddened every mountain peak
Into rose, from twilight dun;
But the blush upon her cheek
Was not lighted by the sun!
Lovely Floribel and I,
While the morning's crimson flood
Streamed along the eastern sky.
Reddened every mountain peak
Into rose, from twilight dun;
But the blush upon her cheek
Was not lighted by the sun!
On the Right Kulm we sat,
Lovely Floribel and I,
Plucking blue-bells for her hat
From a mound that blossomed nigh.
“We are near to heaven,” she sighed,
While her raven lashes fell.
“Nearer,” softly I replied,
“Than the mountain's height may tell.”
Lovely Floribel and I,
Plucking blue-bells for her hat
From a mound that blossomed nigh.
“We are near to heaven,” she sighed,
While her raven lashes fell.
“Nearer,” softly I replied,
“Than the mountain's height may tell.”
489
Down the Righi's side we sped,
Lovely Floribel and I,
But her morning blush had fled,
And the blue-bells all were dry.
Of the height the dream was born;
Of the lower air it died;
And the passion of the morn
Flagged and fell at eventide.
Lovely Floribel and I,
But her morning blush had fled,
And the blue-bells all were dry.
Of the height the dream was born;
Of the lower air it died;
And the passion of the morn
Flagged and fell at eventide.
From the breast of blue Lucerne,
Lovely Floribel and I
Saw the brand of sunset burn
On the Righi Kulm, and die.
And we wondered, gazing thus,
If our dream would still remain
On the height, and wait for us
Till we climb to heaven again!
Lovely Floribel and I
Saw the brand of sunset burn
On the Righi Kulm, and die.
And we wondered, gazing thus,
If our dream would still remain
On the height, and wait for us
Till we climb to heaven again!
THE WINGS.
A feeble wail was heard at night,
And a stifled cry of joy;
And when the morn broke cool and light,
They bore to the mother's tearful sight
A fair and lovely boy.
And a stifled cry of joy;
And when the morn broke cool and light,
They bore to the mother's tearful sight
A fair and lovely boy.
Months passed away;
And day by day
The mother hung about her child
As in his little cot he lay,
And watched him as he smiled,
And threw his hands into the air,
And turned above his large, bright eyes,
With an expression half of prayer
And half of strange surprise;
For hovering o'er his downy head
A dainty vision hung.
Fluttering, swaying,
Unsteadily it swung,
As if suspended by a thread,
His own sweet breath obeying.
And day by day
The mother hung about her child
As in his little cot he lay,
And watched him as he smiled,
490
And turned above his large, bright eyes,
With an expression half of prayer
And half of strange surprise;
For hovering o'er his downy head
A dainty vision hung.
Fluttering, swaying,
Unsteadily it swung,
As if suspended by a thread,
His own sweet breath obeying.
Sometimes with look of wild beseeching
He marked it as it dropped
Almost within his awkward reaching,
And as the vision stopped
Beyond his anxious grasp,
And cheated the quick clasp
Of dimpled hands, and quite
Smothered his chirrup of delight,
He marked it as it dropped
Almost within his awkward reaching,
And as the vision stopped
Beyond his anxious grasp,
And cheated the quick clasp
Of dimpled hands, and quite
Smothered his chirrup of delight,
And he saw his effort vain
And the bright vision there again
Dancing before his sight,
His eyes grew dim with tears,
Till o'er the flooded spheres
The soothing eyelids crept,
And the tired infant slept.
He saw—his mother could not see—
A presence and a mystery:
Two waving wings,
Spangled with silver, starlike things:
No form of light was borne between;
Only the wings were seen!
Years steal away with silent feet,
And he, the little one,
With brow more fair and voice more sweet
Is playing in the sun.
Flowers are around him and the songs
Of bounding streams and happy birds,
But sweeter than their sweetest tongues
Break forth his own glad words.
And as he sings
The wings, the wings!
Before him still they fly!
And nothing that the summer brings
Can so entice his eye.
Hovering here, hovering there,
Hovering everywhere,
They flash and shine among the flowers,
While dripping sheen in golden showers
Falls through the air where'er they hover
Upon the radiant things they cover.
Hurrying here, hurrying there,
Hurrying everywhere,
He plucks the flowers they shine upon,
But while he plucks their light is gone!
And casting down the faded things,
Onward he springs
To follow the wings!
And the bright vision there again
Dancing before his sight,
His eyes grew dim with tears,
Till o'er the flooded spheres
The soothing eyelids crept,
And the tired infant slept.
He saw—his mother could not see—
A presence and a mystery:
Two waving wings,
Spangled with silver, starlike things:
No form of light was borne between;
Only the wings were seen!
491
And he, the little one,
With brow more fair and voice more sweet
Is playing in the sun.
Flowers are around him and the songs
Of bounding streams and happy birds,
But sweeter than their sweetest tongues
Break forth his own glad words.
And as he sings
The wings, the wings!
Before him still they fly!
And nothing that the summer brings
Can so entice his eye.
Hovering here, hovering there,
Hovering everywhere,
They flash and shine among the flowers,
While dripping sheen in golden showers
Falls through the air where'er they hover
Upon the radiant things they cover.
Hurrying here, hurrying there,
Hurrying everywhere,
He plucks the flowers they shine upon,
But while he plucks their light is gone!
And casting down the faded things,
Onward he springs
To follow the wings!
Years run away with silent feet;
The boy, to manhood grown,
Within a shadowy retreat
Stands anxious and alone.
His bosom heaves with heavy sighs,
His hair hangs damp and long,
But fiery purpose fills his eyes,
And his limbs are large and strong:
And there above a gentle hill,
The wings are hovering still,
While their soft radiance, rich and warm,
Falls on a maiden's form.
The boy, to manhood grown,
Within a shadowy retreat
Stands anxious and alone.
His bosom heaves with heavy sighs,
His hair hangs damp and long,
But fiery purpose fills his eyes,
And his limbs are large and strong:
492
The wings are hovering still,
While their soft radiance, rich and warm,
Falls on a maiden's form.
And see! again he starts,
And onward darts,
Then pauses with a fierce and sudden pain,
Then presses on again,
Till with mixed thoughts of rapture and despair,
He kneels before her there:—
With hands together prest,
He prays to her with low and passionate calls,
And, like a snow-flake pure, she flutters, falls,
And melts upon his breast.
And onward darts,
Then pauses with a fierce and sudden pain,
Then presses on again,
Till with mixed thoughts of rapture and despair,
He kneels before her there:—
With hands together prest,
He prays to her with low and passionate calls,
And, like a snow-flake pure, she flutters, falls,
And melts upon his breast.
Long in that dearest trance he hung—
Then raised his eyes; the wings that swung
In glancing circles round his head
Afar had fled,
And wheeled, with calm and graceful flight,
Over a scene
That glowed with glories beauteously bright
Beneath their sheen.
Then raised his eyes; the wings that swung
In glancing circles round his head
Afar had fled,
And wheeled, with calm and graceful flight,
Over a scene
That glowed with glories beauteously bright
Beneath their sheen.
High in the midst a monument arose,
Of pale enduring marble; calm and still,
It seemed a statue of sublime repose,
The silent speaker of a mighty will.
Of pale enduring marble; calm and still,
It seemed a statue of sublime repose,
The silent speaker of a mighty will.
Its sides were hung around
With boughs of evergreen; and its long shaft was crowned
With a bright laurel-wreath,
And glittering beneath
Were piled great heaps of gold upon the ground.
Children were playing near—fair boys and girls,
Who shook their sunny curls,
And laughed and sang in mirthfulness of spirit,
And in their childish pleasures
Danced around the treasures
Of gold and honor they were to inherit.
With boughs of evergreen; and its long shaft was crowned
With a bright laurel-wreath,
And glittering beneath
Were piled great heaps of gold upon the ground.
493
Who shook their sunny curls,
And laughed and sang in mirthfulness of spirit,
And in their childish pleasures
Danced around the treasures
Of gold and honor they were to inherit.
The sight has fired his brain;
Onward he springs again.
O'er ruined blocks
Of wild and perilous rocks,
Through long damp caves, o'er pitfalls dire,
And maddening scenes of blood and fire,
Fainting with heat,
Benumbed with cold,
With weary, aching feet,
He sternly toils, and presses on to greet
The monument, the laurels and the gold.
Years have passed by; a shattered form
Leans faintly on a monument;
His glazing eyes are bent
In sadness down: a tear falls to the ground
That through the furrows of his cheek hath wound.
The children beautiful have ceased to play,
Tarnished the marble stands with dark decay,
The laurels all are dead, and flown the gold away.
Onward he springs again.
O'er ruined blocks
Of wild and perilous rocks,
Through long damp caves, o'er pitfalls dire,
And maddening scenes of blood and fire,
Fainting with heat,
Benumbed with cold,
With weary, aching feet,
He sternly toils, and presses on to greet
The monument, the laurels and the gold.
Years have passed by; a shattered form
Leans faintly on a monument;
His glazing eyes are bent
In sadness down: a tear falls to the ground
That through the furrows of his cheek hath wound.
The children beautiful have ceased to play,
Tarnished the marble stands with dark decay,
The laurels all are dead, and flown the gold away.
Once more he raised his eyes; before him lay
A dim and lonely vale,
And feebly tottering in the downward way
Walked spectres cold and pale.
And darkling groves of shadowy cypress sprung
Among the damp clouds that around them hung.
One vision only cheers his aching sight;
Those wings of light
Have lost their varied hues, and changed to white,
And, with a gentle motion, slowly wave
Over a new made grave.
He casts one faltering, farewell look behind,
Around, above, one mournful glance he throws,
Then with a cheerful smile, and trusting mind,
Moves feebly toward the valley of repose.
He stands above the grave; dull shudders creep
Along his limbs, cold drops are on his brow;
One sigh he heaves, and sinking into sleep
He drops and disappears;—and dropping now,
The wings have followed too.
But, lo! new visions burst upon the view!
They reappear in glory bright and new!
And to their sweet embrace a soul is given,
And on the wings of Hope an angel flies to Heaven.
A dim and lonely vale,
And feebly tottering in the downward way
Walked spectres cold and pale.
And darkling groves of shadowy cypress sprung
Among the damp clouds that around them hung.
One vision only cheers his aching sight;
Those wings of light
Have lost their varied hues, and changed to white,
494
Over a new made grave.
He casts one faltering, farewell look behind,
Around, above, one mournful glance he throws,
Then with a cheerful smile, and trusting mind,
Moves feebly toward the valley of repose.
He stands above the grave; dull shudders creep
Along his limbs, cold drops are on his brow;
One sigh he heaves, and sinking into sleep
He drops and disappears;—and dropping now,
The wings have followed too.
But, lo! new visions burst upon the view!
They reappear in glory bright and new!
And to their sweet embrace a soul is given,
And on the wings of Hope an angel flies to Heaven.
INTIMATIONS.
What glory then! What darkness now!
A glimpse, a thrill, and it is flown!
I reach, I grasp, but stand alone,
With empty arms and upward brow!
A glimpse, a thrill, and it is flown!
I reach, I grasp, but stand alone,
With empty arms and upward brow!
Ye may not see, O weary eyes!
The band of angels, swift and bright,
That pass, but cannot wake your sight,
Down trooping from the crowded skies
The band of angels, swift and bright,
That pass, but cannot wake your sight,
Down trooping from the crowded skies
O heavy ears! Ye may not hear
The strains that pass my conscious soul,
And seek, but find no earthly goal,
Far falling from another sphere.
The strains that pass my conscious soul,
And seek, but find no earthly goal,
Far falling from another sphere.
495
Ah! soul of mine! Ah! soul of mine!
Thy sluggish senses are but bars
That stand between thee and the stars,
And shut thee from the world divine.
Thy sluggish senses are but bars
That stand between thee and the stars,
And shut thee from the world divine.
For something sweeter far than sound,
And something finer than the light
Comes through the discord and the night
And penetrates, or wraps thee round.
And something finer than the light
Comes through the discord and the night
And penetrates, or wraps thee round.
Nay, God is here, couldst thou but see;
All things of beauty are of Him;
And heaven, that holds the cherubim,
As lovingly embraces thee!
All things of beauty are of Him;
And heaven, that holds the cherubim,
As lovingly embraces thee!
If thou hast apprehended well
The tender glory of a flower,
Which moved thee, by some subtle power
Whose source and sway thou couldst not tell;
The tender glory of a flower,
Which moved thee, by some subtle power
Whose source and sway thou couldst not tell;
If thou hast kindled to the sweep
Of stormy clouds across the sky,
Or gazed with tranced and tearful eye,
And swelling breast, upon the deep;
Of stormy clouds across the sky,
Or gazed with tranced and tearful eye,
And swelling breast, upon the deep;
If thou hast felt the throb and thrill
Of early day and happy birds,
While peace, that drowned thy chosen words
Has flowed from thee in glad good-will,
Of early day and happy birds,
While peace, that drowned thy chosen words
Has flowed from thee in glad good-will,
Then hast thou drunk the heavenly dew;
Then have thy feet in rapture trod
The pathway of a thought of God;
And death can show thee nothing new.
Then have thy feet in rapture trod
The pathway of a thought of God;
And death can show thee nothing new.
496
For heaven and beauty are the same,—
Of God the all-informing thought,
To sweet, supreme expression wrought.
And syllabled by sound and flame.
Of God the all-informing thought,
To sweet, supreme expression wrought.
And syllabled by sound and flame.
The light that beams from childhood's eyes,
The charm that dwells in summer woods,
The holy influence that broods
O'er all things under twilight skies,—
The charm that dwells in summer woods,
The holy influence that broods
O'er all things under twilight skies,—
The music of the simple notes
That rise from happy human homes,
The joy in life of all that roams
Upon the earth, and all that floats,
That rise from happy human homes,
The joy in life of all that roams
Upon the earth, and all that floats,
Proclaim that heaven's sweet providence
Enwraps the homely earth in whole,
And finds the secret of the soul
Through channels subtler than the sense.
Enwraps the homely earth in whole,
And finds the secret of the soul
Through channels subtler than the sense.
O soul of mine! Throw wide thy door,
And cleanse thy paths from doubt and sin;
And the bright flood shall enter in
And give thee heaven for evermore!
And cleanse thy paths from doubt and sin;
And the bright flood shall enter in
And give thee heaven for evermore!
WORDS.
The robin repeats his two musical words,
The meadow-lark whistles his one refrain;
And steadily, over and over again,
The same song swells from a hundred birds.
The meadow-lark whistles his one refrain;
And steadily, over and over again,
The same song swells from a hundred birds.
497
Bobolink, chickadee, blackbird and jay,
Thrasher and woodpecker, cuckoo and wren,
Each sings its word, or its phrase, and then
It has nothing further to sing or to say.
Thrasher and woodpecker, cuckoo and wren,
Each sings its word, or its phrase, and then
It has nothing further to sing or to say.
Into that word, or that sweet little phrase,
All there may be of its life must crowd;
And lulling and liquid, or hoarse and loud,
It breathes out its burden of joy and praise.
All there may be of its life must crowd;
And lulling and liquid, or hoarse and loud,
It breathes out its burden of joy and praise.
A little child sits in his father's door,
Chatting and singing with careless tongue;
A thousand beautiful words are sung,
And he holds unuttered a thousand more.
Chatting and singing with careless tongue;
A thousand beautiful words are sung,
And he holds unuttered a thousand more.
Words measure power; and they measure thine;
Greater art thou in thy prattling moods
Than all the singers of all the woods;
They are brutes only, but thou art divine.
Greater art thou in thy prattling moods
Than all the singers of all the woods;
They are brutes only, but thou art divine.
Words measure destiny. Power to declare
Infinite ranges of passion and thought
Holds with the infinite only its lot,—
Is of eternity only the heir.
Infinite ranges of passion and thought
Holds with the infinite only its lot,—
Is of eternity only the heir.
Words measure life, and they measure its joy!
Thou hast more joy in thy childish years
Than the birds of a hundred tuneful spheres,
So—sing with the beautiful birds, my boy!
Thou hast more joy in thy childish years
Than the birds of a hundred tuneful spheres,
So—sing with the beautiful birds, my boy!
498
SLEEPING AND DREAMING.
I softly sink into the bath of sleep:
With eyelids shut, I see around me close
The mottled, violet vapors of the deep,
That wraps me in repose.
With eyelids shut, I see around me close
The mottled, violet vapors of the deep,
That wraps me in repose.
I float all night in the ethereal sea
That drowns my pain and weariness in balm,
Careless of where its currents carry me,
Or settle into calm.
That drowns my pain and weariness in balm,
Careless of where its currents carry me,
Or settle into calm.
That which the ear can hear is silent all;
But, in the lower stillness which I reach,
Soft whispers call me, like the distant fall
Of waves upon the beach.
But, in the lower stillness which I reach,
Soft whispers call me, like the distant fall
Of waves upon the beach.
Now like the mother who with patient care
Has soothed to rest her faint, o'erwearied boy,
My spirit leaves the couch, and seeks the air
For freedom and for joy.
Has soothed to rest her faint, o'erwearied boy,
My spirit leaves the couch, and seeks the air
For freedom and for joy.
Drunk up like vapors by the morning sun
The past and future rise and disappear;
And times and spaces gather home, and run
Into a common sphere.
The past and future rise and disappear;
And times and spaces gather home, and run
Into a common sphere.
My youth is round me, and the silent tomb
Has burst to set its fairest prisoner free,
And I await her in the dewy gloom
Of the old trysting tree.
Has burst to set its fairest prisoner free,
And I await her in the dewy gloom
Of the old trysting tree.
499
I mark the flutter of her snowy dress,
I hear the tripping of her fairy feet,
And now, pressed closely in a pure caress,
With ardent joy we meet.
I hear the tripping of her fairy feet,
And now, pressed closely in a pure caress,
With ardent joy we meet.
I tell again the story of my love,
I drink again her lip's delicious wine,
And, while the same old stars look down above,
Her eyes look up to mine.
I drink again her lip's delicious wine,
And, while the same old stars look down above,
Her eyes look up to mine.
I dream that I am dreaming, and I start;
Then dream that nought so real comes in dreams;
Then kiss again to reassure my heart
That she is what she seems.
Then dream that nought so real comes in dreams;
Then kiss again to reassure my heart
That she is what she seems.
Our steps tend homeward. Lingering at the gate,
I breathe, and breathe again, my fond good-night.
She shuts the cruel door, and still I wait
To watch her window-light.
I breathe, and breathe again, my fond good-night.
She shuts the cruel door, and still I wait
To watch her window-light.
I see the shadow of her dainty head,
On curtains that I pray her hand may stir,
Till all is dark; and then I seek my bed
To dream I dream of her.
On curtains that I pray her hand may stir,
Till all is dark; and then I seek my bed
To dream I dream of her.
Like the swift moon that slides from cloud to cloud,
With only hurried space to smile between,
I pierce the phantoms that around me crowd,
And glide from scene to scene.
With only hurried space to smile between,
I pierce the phantoms that around me crowd,
And glide from scene to scene.
I clasp warm hands that long have lain in dust,
I hear sweet voices that have long been still,
And earth and sea give up their hallowed trust
In answer to my will.
I hear sweet voices that have long been still,
And earth and sea give up their hallowed trust
In answer to my will.
500
And now, high-gazing toward the starry dome,
I see three airy forms come floating down—
The long-lost angels of my early home—
My night of joy to crown.
I see three airy forms come floating down—
The long-lost angels of my early home—
My night of joy to crown.
They pause above, beyond my eager reach,
With arms enwreathed and forms of heavenly grace;
And smiling back the love that smiles from each,
I see them, face to face.
With arms enwreathed and forms of heavenly grace;
And smiling back the love that smiles from each,
I see them, face to face.
They breathe no language, but their holy eyes
Beam an embodied blessing on my heart,
That warm within my trustful bosom lies,
And never will depart.
Beam an embodied blessing on my heart,
That warm within my trustful bosom lies,
And never will depart.
I drink the effluence, till through all my soul
I feel a flood of peaceful rapture flow,
That swells to joy at last, and bursts control,
And I awake; but lo!
I feel a flood of peaceful rapture flow,
That swells to joy at last, and bursts control,
And I awake; but lo!
With eyelids shut, I hold the vision fast,
And still detain it by my ardent prayer,
Till faint and fainter grown, it fades at last
Into the silent air.
And still detain it by my ardent prayer,
Till faint and fainter grown, it fades at last
Into the silent air.
My God! I thank Thee for the bath of sleep,
That wraps in balm my weary heart and brain,
And drowns within its waters still and deep
My sorrow and my pain.
That wraps in balm my weary heart and brain,
And drowns within its waters still and deep
My sorrow and my pain.
I thank Thee for my dreams, which loose the bond
That binds my spirit to its daily load,
And give it angel wings, to fly beyond
Its slumber-bound abode.
That binds my spirit to its daily load,
And give it angel wings, to fly beyond
Its slumber-bound abode.
501
I thank Thee for these glimpses of the clime
That lies beyond the boundaries of sense,
Where I shall wash away the stains of time
In floods of recompense:—
That lies beyond the boundaries of sense,
Where I shall wash away the stains of time
In floods of recompense:—
Where, when this body sleeps to wake no more,
My soul shall rise to everlasting dreams,
And find unreal all it saw before
And real all that seems.
My soul shall rise to everlasting dreams,
And find unreal all it saw before
And real all that seems.
OLD AND BLIND.
Gallant Gray-beard, can't you see
You unconscionable bat, you—
While you play the devotee,
That the girl is laughing at you?
You unconscionable bat, you—
While you play the devotee,
That the girl is laughing at you?
You were handsome in your day,
You are well preserved and thrifty,
And your manners, one may say,
Are superb, but—you are fifty!
You are well preserved and thrifty,
And your manners, one may say,
Are superb, but—you are fifty!
Don't be foolish, now you're old,
Flirting in this feeble fashion,
Trying on a hearth grown cold
To re-light a boyish passion.
Flirting in this feeble fashion,
Trying on a hearth grown cold
To re-light a boyish passion.
You have had your day of youth,
With its tender freaks and fancies;
You have known a woman's truth,
And have lived Love's sweet romances.
With its tender freaks and fancies;
You have known a woman's truth,
And have lived Love's sweet romances.
502
Ay, I know her lips are red;
True, her curls are black and glossy;
Yes, she bears a dainty head,
And her eyes are sweet and saucy.
True, her curls are black and glossy;
Yes, she bears a dainty head,
And her eyes are sweet and saucy.
But she knows you act a part,
While you try to tease and please her,—
Knows, Old Make-Believe, your heart
Is as dead as Julius Cæsar;—
While you try to tease and please her,—
Knows, Old Make-Believe, your heart
Is as dead as Julius Cæsar;—
Knows it, though a simple girl,
And is laughing while you linger;—
Knows it well, and, like a curl,
Winds you round her jeweled finger!
And is laughing while you linger;—
Knows it well, and, like a curl,
Winds you round her jeweled finger!
But if you must act a part;
If you cannot drop you feigning,
Feign you have not in your heart
Such a thing as love remaining.
If you cannot drop you feigning,
Feign you have not in your heart
Such a thing as love remaining.
Come and stand with me, my friend,—
She'll permit you—never doubt her!
Do as I do, and pretend
Not to care a fig about her!
She'll permit you—never doubt her!
Do as I do, and pretend
Not to care a fig about her!
503
HER ARGUMENT.
“Donald's dead,” she murmured, smiling, as she met me at the door.
“Come and see the little fellow ere we carry him away!”
Then she turned with queenly gesture, and walked firmly on before,
To the chamber where the coffin and its lovely burden lay.
“Come and see the little fellow ere we carry him away!”
Then she turned with queenly gesture, and walked firmly on before,
To the chamber where the coffin and its lovely burden lay.
She was not of earth that morning; she was up among the spheres—
Cloud and darkness underneath, and round her paradisal air—
For her eyes had seen a vision that forbade their falling tears,
And her heart had framed an argument that banished her despair.
Cloud and darkness underneath, and round her paradisal air—
For her eyes had seen a vision that forbade their falling tears,
And her heart had framed an argument that banished her despair.
Smiling lips and waxen forehead, folded hands and pulseless breast,
There he lay the household treasure to be hidden ere the night!
And the mother stood above him with her hands together pressed
In a rapture of thanksgiving—in a transport of delight!
There he lay the household treasure to be hidden ere the night!
And the mother stood above him with her hands together pressed
In a rapture of thanksgiving—in a transport of delight!
504
Then she spoke: “An angel met him at the parting of his breath,
For he reached his hands up swiftly, and he answered with a smile!
Ah my Donald, darling Donald! Thou art conqueror of death!
Evil cannot now disturb thee, nor the touch of sin defile.
For he reached his hands up swiftly, and he answered with a smile!
Ah my Donald, darling Donald! Thou art conqueror of death!
Evil cannot now disturb thee, nor the touch of sin defile.
“Do not stray too far, my Donald! Linger for me on the hills!
Oh, there's time enough for straying! Wait and see it all with me!
I shall go to thee when graciously the Heavenly Father wills,
And I know that I shall know thee, whensoever it may be!”
Oh, there's time enough for straying! Wait and see it all with me!
I shall go to thee when graciously the Heavenly Father wills,
And I know that I shall know thee, whensoever it may be!”
I had come to bring her comfort, but I stood in dumb amaze,
For her peace was like a river and her joy too full for speech.
I had come to lead her sobbing through the dim and doubtful ways
That philosophy discloses and the hackneyed schoolmen teach.
For her peace was like a river and her joy too full for speech.
I had come to lead her sobbing through the dim and doubtful ways
That philosophy discloses and the hackneyed schoolmen teach.
She had learned a better logic; she was mistress of the hour;
And I stood before her, humbled, knowing that my scheme was vain.
“Tell me, woman,” said I, trembling—“tell me, if thou hast the power,
How thou knowest that this little boy of thine shall live again?”
And I stood before her, humbled, knowing that my scheme was vain.
“Tell me, woman,” said I, trembling—“tell me, if thou hast the power,
How thou knowest that this little boy of thine shall live again?”
505
“Sweetest thing in earth and heaven”—made she answer to my quest—
“Life of Godhead, breath of angels, every good and gift above,
Was bestowed upon my Donald—lived and throbbed within his breast—
God had given him love for largess, and had given him power to love!
“Life of Godhead, breath of angels, every good and gift above,
Was bestowed upon my Donald—lived and throbbed within his breast—
God had given him love for largess, and had given him power to love!
“If He had not loved my Donald, would He, think you, have bestowed
What was best in all His kingdom—what was royal and divine—
On the little earthly nature, till I knew it the abode
Of the presence of The Master, and revered it as a shrine?
What was best in all His kingdom—what was royal and divine—
On the little earthly nature, till I knew it the abode
Of the presence of The Master, and revered it as a shrine?
“God is bountiful, but gives not gifts like this to stocks and stones!
His are all the living creatures on a thousand happy hills;
But He only gives them pleasure, and a place to hide their bones
When decay descends upon them, or the cruel hand that kills.
His are all the living creatures on a thousand happy hills;
But He only gives them pleasure, and a place to hide their bones
When decay descends upon them, or the cruel hand that kills.
“Would He fit a soul to love Him, and give nothing in return?
Would He care a soul should love Him if He did not love it well?
Love must find a love that answers, or with hopeless passion learn;
And God loves us, or our love is but the mockery of hell.
Would He care a soul should love Him if He did not love it well?
Love must find a love that answers, or with hopeless passion learn;
And God loves us, or our love is but the mockery of hell.
506
“This is certain as the sunlight, this is true as life is true:
And no soul can frame conception of a being so inane,
That, with power to save, He wills not to recover and renew
Every object of His tenderness that falls in mortal pain!
And no soul can frame conception of a being so inane,
That, with power to save, He wills not to recover and renew
Every object of His tenderness that falls in mortal pain!
“Oh I know it: God loved Donald; and He will not let him die.
Even I had saved him living if my love had had the might.
Did the God of earth and heaven love my darling less than I?
Having loved him will He damn him to the everlasting night?
Even I had saved him living if my love had had the might.
Did the God of earth and heaven love my darling less than I?
Having loved him will He damn him to the everlasting night?
“That is not the way of loving. Every instinct of love's power
Moves to shield its precious object from destruction and decay;
And I know that God loved Donald, and that Donald has for dower
Immortality of being, in the everlasting day!”
Moves to shield its precious object from destruction and decay;
And I know that God loved Donald, and that Donald has for dower
Immortality of being, in the everlasting day!”
507
A LEGEND OF LEAP YEAR.
“No poet should invent his own romance.”—
Stedman.
Stedman.
“One, two,
Buckle my shoe.”
Two little shoes with silver buckles dight,
Lay in the room where she had passed the night.
She raised them in her fingers, pink and white,
And put them on her feet, and strapped them tight.
Buckle my shoe.”
Two little shoes with silver buckles dight,
Lay in the room where she had passed the night.
She raised them in her fingers, pink and white,
And put them on her feet, and strapped them tight.
“Three, four,
Open the door.”
Then slowly rising from her cushioned chair,
She gave a last deft crinkle to her hair,
And oped the door and hurried down the stair—
Her petticoats soft rustling through the air!
Open the door.”
Then slowly rising from her cushioned chair,
She gave a last deft crinkle to her hair,
And oped the door and hurried down the stair—
Her petticoats soft rustling through the air!
“Five, six,
Pick up sticks.”
Straight to the yard she skipped on queenly toes,
To where in serried ranks the wood-pile rose,
Then piled her arm with hickory to her nose,
And bore it to the house through air that froze.
Pick up sticks.”
Straight to the yard she skipped on queenly toes,
To where in serried ranks the wood-pile rose,
Then piled her arm with hickory to her nose,
And bore it to the house through air that froze.
“Seven, eight,
Lay 'em straight.”
At length the wood was blazing on the fire,
Though still unequal to her fierce desire;
And so she punched and punched the cheerful pyre,
And heaped with sticks the household altar higher.
Lay 'em straight.”
At length the wood was blazing on the fire,
Though still unequal to her fierce desire;
And so she punched and punched the cheerful pyre,
And heaped with sticks the household altar higher.
508
“Nine, ten,
Good fat hen.”
And then the eager hunger-fiend was foiled,
And she was glad, indeed, that she had toiled;
For when her hands were washed, so sadly soiled,
She sat down to a last year's chicken—BROILED!
Good fat hen.”
And then the eager hunger-fiend was foiled,
And she was glad, indeed, that she had toiled;
For when her hands were washed, so sadly soiled,
She sat down to a last year's chicken—BROILED!
“Eleven, twelve,
Toil and delve.”
Then to her waist her pink of pinafores
She fastened, and did up her little chores,
Made soap, made bread, baked beans, and swept her floors,
And worried through a hundred household bores.
Toil and delve.”
Then to her waist her pink of pinafores
She fastened, and did up her little chores,
Made soap, made bread, baked beans, and swept her floors,
And worried through a hundred household bores.
“Thirteen, fourteen,
Girls are courtin.”
Next morn before her door the grocer's van
Drove up. 'Twas leap-year, and she laid her plan.
So when he asked for orders, she began
To blush, and said she'd take a market-man!
Girls are courtin.”
Next morn before her door the grocer's van
Drove up. 'Twas leap-year, and she laid her plan.
So when he asked for orders, she began
To blush, and said she'd take a market-man!
“Fifteen, sixteen,
Girls are fixin'.”
She overhauled her linen-chest with pride,
Bought hose, bought gloves, bought sheetings two yards wide,
Bought blankets and a hundred things beside
That woman buys when she becomes a bride.
Girls are fixin'.”
She overhauled her linen-chest with pride,
Bought hose, bought gloves, bought sheetings two yards wide,
Bought blankets and a hundred things beside
That woman buys when she becomes a bride.
“Seventeen, eighteen,
Girls are waitin'.”
And then she waited—waited day by day,
Till weeks had flown, and months had passed away,
But still her order lingered in delay,
Although she longed to have it filled—and pay.
Girls are waitin'.”
And then she waited—waited day by day,
Till weeks had flown, and months had passed away,
But still her order lingered in delay,
Although she longed to have it filled—and pay.
509
“Nineteen, twenty,
Girls are plenty.”
At length she knew. Embarras de richesses
Had thrown the fellow into wild distress,
And he had gone to drinking to excess,
Crushed by the weight of offered loveliness.
Girls are plenty.”
At length she knew. Embarras de richesses
Had thrown the fellow into wild distress,
And he had gone to drinking to excess,
Crushed by the weight of offered loveliness.
She called and saw him, selling by the pound
Within his stall. “Fact is,” said he, “I found
That gals this year so wonderful abound,
No single market-man won't go around!”
Within his stall. “Fact is,” said he, “I found
That gals this year so wonderful abound,
No single market-man won't go around!”
FALSE AND TRUE.
The false is fairer than the true. BeholdYon cloudy giant on the hills supine!—
The figure of a falsehood that doth shine,
Armored and helmeted, in such a gold
As in the marts was never bought or sold,—
Giant and armor the exalted sign
Of shapes less glorious and tints less fine—
Of forms of truth outmatched a thousand fold!
Ah, Poesie! Thou charmer and thou cheat!
Painting for eyes that fill with happy tears,
In tints delusive, pictures that repeat
Dull, earthly forms in heavenly atmospheres!
How dost thou shame the truth, till it appears
Less lovely far than thy divine deceit!
| The complete poetical writings of J. G. Holland | |