[Poems by Stoddard in] Poetry of the Pacific selections and original poems from the poets of the Pacific states |
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 | [Poems by Stoddard in] Poetry of the Pacific |  |
114
MADRIGAL.
A maid is seated by a brook,
The sweetest of sweet creatures;
I pass that way with my good book,
But cannot read, nor cease to look
Upon her winsome features.
The sweetest of sweet creatures;
I pass that way with my good book,
But cannot read, nor cease to look
Upon her winsome features.
Amongst the blushes on her cheek
Her small white hand reposes,
I am a shepherd, for I seek
That willful lamb, with fleece so sleek,
Feeding among the roses.
Her small white hand reposes,
I am a shepherd, for I seek
That willful lamb, with fleece so sleek,
Feeding among the roses.
115
A RHYME OF LIFE.
If life is as a flame that death doth kill,
Burn little candle lit for me,
With a pure spark, that I may rightly see
To word my song, and utterly
God's plan fulfill.
Burn little candle lit for me,
With a pure spark, that I may rightly see
To word my song, and utterly
God's plan fulfill.
If life is as a flower that blooms and dies,
Forbid the cunning frost that slays
With Judas kiss, and trusting life betrays;
Forever may my voice of praise
Untainted rise!
Forbid the cunning frost that slays
With Judas kiss, and trusting life betrays;
Forever may my voice of praise
Untainted rise!
If life is as a voyage, or foul, or fair,
Oh! bid me not my banners furl
For adverse gale, or wave in angry whirl,
Till I have found the gates of pearl,
And anchored there.
Oh! bid me not my banners furl
For adverse gale, or wave in angry whirl,
Till I have found the gates of pearl,
And anchored there.
116
THE WOODPECKER.
A busy woodpecker! what would you call
This monk of a fellow, tapping a tree,
With little cells like a catacomb-hall,
To bury his acorns in; what would you call
Such a curious monk as he?
This monk of a fellow, tapping a tree,
With little cells like a catacomb-hall,
To bury his acorns in; what would you call
Such a curious monk as he?
Tucking his acorns away in their tomb,
To feed upon by-and-by at his will—
Does he ever think of the hidden bloom
In the acorn's heart? though shut in a tomb
There's a germ of life nursed there still!
To feed upon by-and-by at his will—
Does he ever think of the hidden bloom
In the acorn's heart? though shut in a tomb
There's a germ of life nursed there still!
Time is a woodpecker, crowding the cells
Of the catacomb earth with holy dead;
But there is a bud of life that swells
In the oak-tree's might, and it shatters the cells
As the soul when the life has fled.
Of the catacomb earth with holy dead;
But there is a bud of life that swells
In the oak-tree's might, and it shatters the cells
As the soul when the life has fled.
117
THE WILL OF GOD IS ACCOMPLISHED: AMEN.
“There is a city beyond the sea,
With the gates of pearl and the pave of gold;
Out of the night of gloom are we,
Out of the mist of tears:
Captain, I leave the ship with thee,
For the holy breath of God will fold
The ripples before thee. Seek the gate
That is formed of a single pearl, and wait
The angel that beareth the golden key;
Not an evil thing shall pass with thee,
Never a thought of fears.
With the gates of pearl and the pave of gold;
Out of the night of gloom are we,
Out of the mist of tears:
Captain, I leave the ship with thee,
For the holy breath of God will fold
The ripples before thee. Seek the gate
That is formed of a single pearl, and wait
The angel that beareth the golden key;
Not an evil thing shall pass with thee,
Never a thought of fears.
You cannot miss the haven of hope,
With God at the helm, and angel's wings
Puffing the sail with their flutterings,
And a loyal soul at every rope.”
With God at the helm, and angel's wings
Puffing the sail with their flutterings,
And a loyal soul at every rope.”
“God be with you, captain and crew!”
Said the pilot kindly. Every one
Cried “Amen, pilot! God bless you!”
“A prosperous voyage has just begun;
I have another work to do;
God be with you!” Then, like a light,
The pilot's soul went out with the night.
We were alone, but our chart was true,
On we sped with the rising sun.
Why did the pilot's guiding cease?
He had found Heaven: we had found peace.
Said the pilot kindly. Every one
Cried “Amen, pilot! God bless you!”
“A prosperous voyage has just begun;
118
God be with you!” Then, like a light,
The pilot's soul went out with the night.
We were alone, but our chart was true,
On we sped with the rising sun.
Why did the pilot's guiding cease?
He had found Heaven: we had found peace.
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