[Poems by Shillaber in] The poets of New Hampshire being specimen poems of three hundred poets of the Granite State, with biographical notes |
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 | [Poems by Shillaber in] The poets of New Hampshire |  |
166
A COUNTRY SUMMER SUNDAY.
Sweet season of repose! thy influence blest
Pervades creation with a calm delight;
All nature claims the bounty of thy rest,
And care that held dominion takes its flight.
Pervades creation with a calm delight;
All nature claims the bounty of thy rest,
And care that held dominion takes its flight.
No sounds discordant lacerate the ear—
In tranquil beauty lies the landscape wide;—
“To Praise! To Praise!” our inmost spirits hear,
As if an angel spake, from every side.
In tranquil beauty lies the landscape wide;—
“To Praise! To Praise!” our inmost spirits hear,
As if an angel spake, from every side.
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The sun, abroad, o'er meadow, wood and stream,
A brighter, holier radiance seems to fling;
The birds inspired with sweeter music seem,
And breathless breezes wait to hear them sing.
A brighter, holier radiance seems to fling;
The birds inspired with sweeter music seem,
And breathless breezes wait to hear them sing.
Anon, awakening with a murmuring note,
The soft winds harp on instrumental trees,
While perfumes from a myriad blossoms float,
Borne on the pinions of the joyous breeze.
The soft winds harp on instrumental trees,
While perfumes from a myriad blossoms float,
Borne on the pinions of the joyous breeze.
The cattle in the field, released from stall,
Graze gratefully upon the grasses cool,
Where the refreshing shadows darkly fall,
Or stand as studying in some pleasant pool.
Graze gratefully upon the grasses cool,
Where the refreshing shadows darkly fall,
Or stand as studying in some pleasant pool.
The rustling corn in tasseled pride outflings
Its banners in the gleaming sun to dance,
And every spire in golden triumph swings
In plenitude of rich luxuriance.
Its banners in the gleaming sun to dance,
And every spire in golden triumph swings
In plenitude of rich luxuriance.
The farmer listless leans upon the wall,
And looks with calm contentment o'er his fields,
While glad emotions all his heart enthral,
And thankfulness that here its tribute yields.
And looks with calm contentment o'er his fields,
While glad emotions all his heart enthral,
And thankfulness that here its tribute yields.
But hark! amid the charms that rest around,
Comes to our ears the warning sabbath-bell;
The listening hills return the sacred sound,
Which wakens echoes in the vales that dwell.
Comes to our ears the warning sabbath-bell;
The listening hills return the sacred sound,
Which wakens echoes in the vales that dwell.
And now, sedately from each cottage home,
The village fathers, sabbathly arrayed,
And village mothers, dignifiedly come,
And village maidens with their “best” displayed;
The village fathers, sabbathly arrayed,
And village mothers, dignifiedly come,
And village maidens with their “best” displayed;
The dusty chaise rolls down the dusty hill,
A relic saved from generations past,
A pride of station clinging to it still,
And deferential looks are on it cast!
A relic saved from generations past,
A pride of station clinging to it still,
And deferential looks are on it cast!
And loving pairs lag loiteringly along
Beneath the shadows of the elm trees, tall,
And themes are there for story or for song
Poured out 'neath many a faded parasol.
Beneath the shadows of the elm trees, tall,
And themes are there for story or for song
Poured out 'neath many a faded parasol.
All take the path to where, each holy day,
The reverend pastor doth his accents raise,
And strives to draw his hearers' minds away,
By urgings gentle, to a godly praise;
The reverend pastor doth his accents raise,
And strives to draw his hearers' minds away,
By urgings gentle, to a godly praise;
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To where the anthem unassisted springs,
And melody appalled turns pale to hear,
Gathering for flight her silver-plumaged wings,
To seek elsewhere some more harmonious sphere!
And melody appalled turns pale to hear,
Gathering for flight her silver-plumaged wings,
To seek elsewhere some more harmonious sphere!
Yet much of soul dwells in the simple song,
Where fervor takes the place of studied art,
As on the air it pours itself along,
Freighted with feeling of the fervent heart.
Where fervor takes the place of studied art,
As on the air it pours itself along,
Freighted with feeling of the fervent heart.
Methinks that God looks more benignly down
Upon the day His lovingness hath lent,
When, amid scenes like this its hours we crown
By offerings with joy and homage blent.
Upon the day His lovingness hath lent,
When, amid scenes like this its hours we crown
By offerings with joy and homage blent.
Ascetic gloom should find no biding place
To cloud the current of our bosom's rest;
The sabbath sun with joy should gild the face,
As in the heart its presence is confest.
To cloud the current of our bosom's rest;
The sabbath sun with joy should gild the face,
As in the heart its presence is confest.
PISCATAQUA.
My heart and soul go out to thee, blue stream,
Sparkling with pleasant memories of yore,—
Of days when youth flowed on, as flows a dream,
As careless as thy wave that kissed the shore,
Unheeding, and demanding nothing more
Than thy fraternity and kindred joy,
Mid scenes of loveliness then gloated o'er
With the fond admiration of the boy,
Which knew no limitation, knew no base alloy.
Sparkling with pleasant memories of yore,—
Of days when youth flowed on, as flows a dream,
As careless as thy wave that kissed the shore,
Unheeding, and demanding nothing more
Than thy fraternity and kindred joy,
Mid scenes of loveliness then gloated o'er
With the fond admiration of the boy,
Which knew no limitation, knew no base alloy.
Thou art still young and fair, Piscataqua,
Thy voice as sweet and tuneful to my ear
As when, in early boyhood's holiday,
It gave me fervent happiness to hear:
My neighbor, playmate and companion dear,
Sportive and wild with turbulent unrest,
That gave no ripple of obtrusive fear
To check the cheerful current of my breast,
When held within thine arms or by thy side at rest.
Thy voice as sweet and tuneful to my ear
As when, in early boyhood's holiday,
It gave me fervent happiness to hear:
My neighbor, playmate and companion dear,
Sportive and wild with turbulent unrest,
That gave no ripple of obtrusive fear
To check the cheerful current of my breast,
When held within thine arms or by thy side at rest.
Thou speakst of those, who in the vortex lost
Of life's endeavor, long have lain to sleep,
Or those who are upon time's billows tost,
For whose returning vainly watch we keep;
Reminders rise, like phantoms, from thy deep,
Of boyish striving, with abandon free
As thine own sparkling billows, that did leap
In the glad sunshine, with exuberant glee,
And thrilled me with the thought that I should sometime be.
Of life's endeavor, long have lain to sleep,
Or those who are upon time's billows tost,
For whose returning vainly watch we keep;
Reminders rise, like phantoms, from thy deep,
Of boyish striving, with abandon free
169
In the glad sunshine, with exuberant glee,
And thrilled me with the thought that I should sometime be.
Oh, rushing river, fierce, resistless, strong!—
Staying no moment welcome to extend
To him who's loved and treasured thee so long
With more than the affection of a friend;
But yet thou dost thy dimpling eddies send,
That, swirling at my feet, smile back the sun,
Loitering where shore and water sweetly blend,
While on thy mission thou keepst sternly on,
Turning aside for naught until the goal is won.
Staying no moment welcome to extend
To him who's loved and treasured thee so long
With more than the affection of a friend;
But yet thou dost thy dimpling eddies send,
That, swirling at my feet, smile back the sun,
Loitering where shore and water sweetly blend,
While on thy mission thou keepst sternly on,
Turning aside for naught until the goal is won.
Yon fisher's boat, that at her killock swings,
Speaks to my consciousness most palpably
How near the spectacle remembrance brings
Of what was once a rare delight to me;
Can that be mine, the form which there I see
In youth's habiliments, his sinkered line
Dropt neath the tide to catch what there may be
That to his near acquaintance doth incline?
See there, upon his hook, the struggling victim shine!
Speaks to my consciousness most palpably
How near the spectacle remembrance brings
Of what was once a rare delight to me;
Can that be mine, the form which there I see
In youth's habiliments, his sinkered line
Dropt neath the tide to catch what there may be
That to his near acquaintance doth incline?
See there, upon his hook, the struggling victim shine!
Piscataqua! no better wish I'd have,
When life was young, than thus to idly swing
Upon the buoyant bosom of thy wave,
And o'er the side my line seductive fling:
To hear the plover flit on hasty wing,
To mark the clouds reflected on thy stream,
To catch glad voices which the airs did bring
From the far shore, lit by the sun's bright beam,
And swinging, listening, loafing—fish and fondly dream.
When life was young, than thus to idly swing
Upon the buoyant bosom of thy wave,
And o'er the side my line seductive fling:
To hear the plover flit on hasty wing,
To mark the clouds reflected on thy stream,
To catch glad voices which the airs did bring
From the far shore, lit by the sun's bright beam,
And swinging, listening, loafing—fish and fondly dream.
How far, Piscataqua, thy shores expand,
With beauties manifold on every side!
And all the loyal glories of the land
Smile in the mirror of thy glassy tide.
There Agamenticus, in solemn pride,
Lifts his grand dome above the distant pines,
There groves sweep downward to thy loving side,
And fair Cocheco in the distance twines,
Amid the winding banks, till with thee she combines.
With beauties manifold on every side!
And all the loyal glories of the land
Smile in the mirror of thy glassy tide.
There Agamenticus, in solemn pride,
Lifts his grand dome above the distant pines,
There groves sweep downward to thy loving side,
And fair Cocheco in the distance twines,
Amid the winding banks, till with thee she combines.
The curving shore, the orchard and the field
Yet hold their places, and the river road
Winds through yon village, half by trees concealed,
Where peace has its beneficent abode;
Beyond, the white church, on the upland showed,
Lifts its fair turret, and each sylvan nook
Glows in the landscape as it e'er has glowed
Since memory its fond departure took,
To dwell upon the past as 'twere an open book.
Yet hold their places, and the river road
Winds through yon village, half by trees concealed,
Where peace has its beneficent abode;
170
Lifts its fair turret, and each sylvan nook
Glows in the landscape as it e'er has glowed
Since memory its fond departure took,
To dwell upon the past as 'twere an open book.
Unchanged, unchanging, shore and rock and wave;
But I, alas! what changes dwell in me,
As here I sit, where youth's bright seasons gave
Their choicest keepsakes to my custody!
Nor faithless I, though my dim eyes may see
But faintly what is in my heart retained,
With rare distinctness of that by-gone day,
Which its beatitudes about me rained,
Within that temple new, by care yet unprofaned.
But I, alas! what changes dwell in me,
As here I sit, where youth's bright seasons gave
Their choicest keepsakes to my custody!
Nor faithless I, though my dim eyes may see
But faintly what is in my heart retained,
With rare distinctness of that by-gone day,
Which its beatitudes about me rained,
Within that temple new, by care yet unprofaned.
Farewell, bright stream! my eyes may ne'er again
Behold thy beauties, but I bear from thee
A love renewed, which, like some heavenly strain
Amid earth's discords, will give ecstasy
In hours remaining of the yet to be,
And I shall fancy often that I hear
Thy voice, as here of late it greeted me,
Speaking in parting tones of love and cheer,
And giving gladsomeness unto my failing ear.
Behold thy beauties, but I bear from thee
A love renewed, which, like some heavenly strain
Amid earth's discords, will give ecstasy
In hours remaining of the yet to be,
And I shall fancy often that I hear
Thy voice, as here of late it greeted me,
Speaking in parting tones of love and cheer,
And giving gladsomeness unto my failing ear.
Newington on Piscataqua, Aug. 31, 1879.
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