 | Poems |  |
105
Of Meditation.
109
SEED-TIME.
Grief is a rain, to fall
Upon us, one and all,
Like needful showers that make the dry earth mellow;
For autumn days will come—
The root of love is numb,
Its sweetest blossoms all are sear and yellow.
Upon us, one and all,
Like needful showers that make the dry earth mellow;
For autumn days will come—
The root of love is numb,
Its sweetest blossoms all are sear and yellow.
And then a quick regret
Will harshly seem to whet
The ploughshare of misfortune, while it burrows
Along its cruel way;
And glossy locks grow gray
And lusterless beside the new-turned furrows.
Will harshly seem to whet
The ploughshare of misfortune, while it burrows
Along its cruel way;
And glossy locks grow gray
And lusterless beside the new-turned furrows.
Old Time comes on amain—
A farmer with his grain,
Experience he sifts between his fingers,
As up and down he goes.
Search, Time, along the rows;
Lest in thy path a weed of evil lingers!
A farmer with his grain,
Experience he sifts between his fingers,
As up and down he goes.
Search, Time, along the rows;
Lest in thy path a weed of evil lingers!
110
His cunning skill is such
He seeks with careful touch
The seeded groves with softest soil to cover;
Yet, Time, thou hast not art,
But in some bruiséd heart
Long traces of thy husbandry will hover!
He seeks with careful touch
The seeded groves with softest soil to cover;
Yet, Time, thou hast not art,
But in some bruiséd heart
Long traces of thy husbandry will hover!
O, busy husbandman,
How perfect is thy plan!
Behold the harvest! for thy careful flinging
Of little curious seed
Shall come a crop indeed;
Lo! peace, and trust, and every virtue springing!
How perfect is thy plan!
Behold the harvest! for thy careful flinging
Of little curious seed
Shall come a crop indeed;
Lo! peace, and trust, and every virtue springing!
111
PENSEROSA.
Is it sin to deal with sorrow?
Looking upward through our tears,
All the breadth of sky is clearer,
And twice beautiful; and dearer
Seems the coming of the morrow
As we wrestle with our fears;
Wherefore should we comfort borrow,
Looking upward through our tears,
All the breadth of sky is clearer,
And twice beautiful; and dearer
Seems the coming of the morrow
As we wrestle with our fears;
Wherefore should we comfort borrow,
While the woe may come again?
For our little life is brief;
And though never joy shall light it,
Truly not our tears shall blight it;
For the Christ once suffered pain,
And He was acquaint with grief—
He, the blessed Christ, did deign
For our little life is brief;
And though never joy shall light it,
Truly not our tears shall blight it;
For the Christ once suffered pain,
And He was acquaint with grief—
He, the blessed Christ, did deign
Himself to weep. What matter whether
Smile or sigh? The fairest bow,
Where the sun the spray hath kissed,
There it blossoms in the mist
Till it withers in fair weather.
Beautiful is grief! I know
Peace and tears may dwell together.
Smile or sigh? The fairest bow,
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There it blossoms in the mist
Till it withers in fair weather.
Beautiful is grief! I know
Peace and tears may dwell together.
113
AT POLLOCK'S GRAVE.
One seared leaf quivering down
From the green choir that wails thy brief renown:
This is the poet's crown!
From the green choir that wails thy brief renown:
This is the poet's crown!
Where is thy skillful lute,
That could provoke the birds to sweet dispute?
Alas! forever mute!
That could provoke the birds to sweet dispute?
Alas! forever mute!
The hand that drew the balm
Of ravishing music from tuned strings is calm;
The worm feeds on thy palm.
Of ravishing music from tuned strings is calm;
The worm feeds on thy palm.
Not the majestic sweep
Of subtle melodies thy nerve could keep
From out the dusty heap.
Of subtle melodies thy nerve could keep
From out the dusty heap.
The eager sun-rays dart
Through silken grasses, searching for thy heart,
Of perfect gold a part.
Through silken grasses, searching for thy heart,
Of perfect gold a part.
114
The frail vine mantling
Thy undeserved nakedness doth cling
About thee, perishing.
Thy undeserved nakedness doth cling
About thee, perishing.
Though no cut altar-stone
Is set to tell these ashes are thine own,
Thou art not all unknown.
Is set to tell these ashes are thine own,
Thou art not all unknown.
Nor dost thou, voiceless, wait;
A thousand whispering tongues shall penetrate
The Heaven's pearly gate:
A thousand whispering tongues shall penetrate
The Heaven's pearly gate:
Singing thine unsung songs,
Chanting thy praises out of tuneful throngs,
And righting all thy wrongs.
Chanting thy praises out of tuneful throngs,
And righting all thy wrongs.
[OMITTED]
I would some song dispense,
But falter in my homely utterance,
For music is flown hence.
But falter in my homely utterance,
For music is flown hence.
115
“DROWNED! DROWNED!”
'T is said when drowning, snatched from life and light—
When drowning in sad waters deep and wide—
When drowning, that the waters and the wave
Do moan most musically, and singing, sigh
In tenderest tones, and witching wild refrains,
That enter at the ear and fill the brain
With music, quieting; and that the soul
Is fraught with harmony, and urged to leave
Its transient habitation i' the clay,
And seek that far-beyond, we know not of.
When drowning in sad waters deep and wide—
When drowning, that the waters and the wave
Do moan most musically, and singing, sigh
In tenderest tones, and witching wild refrains,
That enter at the ear and fill the brain
With music, quieting; and that the soul
Is fraught with harmony, and urged to leave
Its transient habitation i' the clay,
And seek that far-beyond, we know not of.
The body's tenantless sleep is all a-cold;
And coming tides slow bear it to the strand,
Among the rushes; and the fingers close
In icy clasp among the rushes, while
The ripples, each in turn, slip up the shore,
And kiss the feet, and the close about the hands,
And twine the hair among the roots, and trail
The long sea-grasses over all the form
In slimy ribbons.
And coming tides slow bear it to the strand,
Among the rushes; and the fingers close
In icy clasp among the rushes, while
The ripples, each in turn, slip up the shore,
And kiss the feet, and the close about the hands,
And twine the hair among the roots, and trail
116
In slimy ribbons.
Then the tides recede
And leave the body, pale, and lank, and cold,
All in the silence of night, upon the strand—
Sad waters moaning for the still, dead form,
The soulless body sleeping on the strand.
And after
A bleachen skull, outstaring the bold sun—
The mystery of birth, and age, and name—
The secret of the soul's flight, and the blank
And wordless story of a shattered life!
And leave the body, pale, and lank, and cold,
All in the silence of night, upon the strand—
Sad waters moaning for the still, dead form,
The soulless body sleeping on the strand.
And after
A bleachen skull, outstaring the bold sun—
The mystery of birth, and age, and name—
The secret of the soul's flight, and the blank
And wordless story of a shattered life!
The rattling reeds, and the salt-odored sea
In tireless waves—the hollow autumn wind
Tossing among the rushes—and one star
Dropping pearl shadows in the empty bowls
That held the eyes once in this withered skull!
In tireless waves—the hollow autumn wind
Tossing among the rushes—and one star
Dropping pearl shadows in the empty bowls
That held the eyes once in this withered skull!
117
THE SOUTHERN CROSS.
Whene'er those southern seas I sail,
I find my eyes instinctive turning
Where, pure and marvelously pale,
Four sacred stars are brightly burning.
I find my eyes instinctive turning
Where, pure and marvelously pale,
Four sacred stars are brightly burning.
A star is set above the thorns;
Two mark the bleeding palms extended;
And one the wounded feet adorns—
In four the potent cross is blended.
Two mark the bleeding palms extended;
And one the wounded feet adorns—
In four the potent cross is blended.
One only hand had power to place
The symbol there, and that immortal;
Those fair, celestial fires may grace
And beautify the heavenly portal.
The symbol there, and that immortal;
Those fair, celestial fires may grace
And beautify the heavenly portal.
Whatever danger I may meet
Upon the wild, disastrous ocean,
Still turn my trusting eyes to greet
That flaming cross with true devotion.
Upon the wild, disastrous ocean,
Still turn my trusting eyes to greet
That flaming cross with true devotion.
118
Nor cease, my willing heart, to give
Thy prayers, and every just endeavor;
For only by the cross I live,
And by the cross I live forever.
Thy prayers, and every just endeavor;
For only by the cross I live,
And by the cross I live forever.
119
“DION.”
(LYMAN R. GOODMAN.)
You sang too early in the spring
Of our uncheerful year of song;
You felt the bitter chill of wrong,
And on a sudden ceased to sing.
Of our uncheerful year of song;
You felt the bitter chill of wrong,
And on a sudden ceased to sing.
And on a sudden sang no more
In skillful measure to our needs;
But there is One who ever heeds
Your numbers on the farther shore.
In skillful measure to our needs;
But there is One who ever heeds
Your numbers on the farther shore.
120
I picture you as one who lies
Among the palms, with harp and crown.
A silver, quivering thread, let down
From crystal walls of Paradise,
Among the palms, with harp and crown.
A silver, quivering thread, let down
From crystal walls of Paradise,
Is the sweet echo of your voice
That thrills me. In your vineyard's throng
I taste your purple grapes of song,
And in their honey-blood rejoice.
That thrills me. In your vineyard's throng
I taste your purple grapes of song,
And in their honey-blood rejoice.
121
IN MEMORIAM.
L. C. B.
OB. MDCCCLXIV.
Æt. XXVI.
Only now the chrysalis;
Only now the mortal clay,
Cold and breathless, utterly.
What may wake him? Not a kiss
On the purest brow I know,
O! so pallid; not a kiss
On the listless, closed eyes;
They can look beyond the skies
At the white throne. Not a kiss
On the hollow cheek of snow.
What shall wake him? Not a kiss
On the bloodless, sealed lips,
For an angel's finger-tips
Ever-silence there have prest;
And the quiet of his breast
Is a holy sepulcher;
And the sleeping Christ within,
Is his heart immaculate,
Purged of every blight and sin.
Death the ashes did inter
With the odor and the balm,
Nourished in the long increase
Of the Christ-man's perfect calm,
And his soul's eternal peace.
Faith and Hope sit at the gate
Of the sepulcher, and wait
For the dawning judgment day;
At the portal while I weep.
At the portal while I pray,
Kneeling at the silent tomb—
Who will break the awful gloom?
Who shall wake him from his sleep?
Who can roll the stone away?
Only now the mortal clay,
Cold and breathless, utterly.
What may wake him? Not a kiss
On the purest brow I know,
O! so pallid; not a kiss
On the listless, closed eyes;
They can look beyond the skies
At the white throne. Not a kiss
On the hollow cheek of snow.
What shall wake him? Not a kiss
On the bloodless, sealed lips,
For an angel's finger-tips
Ever-silence there have prest;
And the quiet of his breast
Is a holy sepulcher;
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Is his heart immaculate,
Purged of every blight and sin.
Death the ashes did inter
With the odor and the balm,
Nourished in the long increase
Of the Christ-man's perfect calm,
And his soul's eternal peace.
Faith and Hope sit at the gate
Of the sepulcher, and wait
For the dawning judgment day;
At the portal while I weep.
At the portal while I pray,
Kneeling at the silent tomb—
Who will break the awful gloom?
Who shall wake him from his sleep?
Who can roll the stone away?
Slumber on and take thy rest;
Peace forever will abide
With thy memory at my side,
Dove-like; and upon my breast
Falls thy spirit sanctified!
Only here the chrysalis,
Only here the mortal clay,
Cold and breathless utterly.
Naught may wake him; not a kiss;
Not a kiss or prayer for aye
Shall recall him out of bliss!
Only here the chrysalis,
With the spirit flown away!
Peace forever will abide
With thy memory at my side,
Dove-like; and upon my breast
Falls thy spirit sanctified!
123
Only here the mortal clay,
Cold and breathless utterly.
Naught may wake him; not a kiss;
Not a kiss or prayer for aye
Shall recall him out of bliss!
Only here the chrysalis,
With the spirit flown away!
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