 | Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman |  |
40
Elidore
Her beauty came to his distrustful heart
As comes a bud to flower, in bracing air;
For its perception had been dulled to sleep,
By disappointment, doubt, and worldly wear,
The fear of wrong, and coldness everywhere:
Yet, while unguessed, an impulse seemed to part
From that pale presence; calling him to keep
A watch on Beauty's beamings, powers, and tones,
From blossoming dawn, down to the half-filled flower,
Or bird, or buried brook: all that Life owns,
Or Nature gives, grew holier in that power.
As comes a bud to flower, in bracing air;
For its perception had been dulled to sleep,
By disappointment, doubt, and worldly wear,
The fear of wrong, and coldness everywhere:
Yet, while unguessed, an impulse seemed to part
From that pale presence; calling him to keep
A watch on Beauty's beamings, powers, and tones,
From blossoming dawn, down to the half-filled flower,
Or bird, or buried brook: all that Life owns,
Or Nature gives, grew holier in that power.
An influence still entreating day by day,
Yet still unlike the tricks of female guile,
Not forward, but to reach and reconcile
Through childlike grace and plain sincerity;
And teaching him, by such innocence of display,
That light of outward loveliness to see.
Scarce felt at first, with Time's increasing worth
The faint eyes deepened, and the lips awoke,
Till, from a clouded brow, all beauty broke,
And bade him own a wonder of the earth,—
A graceful mind, most gracefully inclosed;
A woman fair and young, but softly free
From the world's wisdom, and hypocrisy;
Or restless spite, or curiosity;
Gentle and glad, yet armed in constancy,
With breathings heavenward, and a faith composed.
Yet still unlike the tricks of female guile,
Not forward, but to reach and reconcile
Through childlike grace and plain sincerity;
41
That light of outward loveliness to see.
Scarce felt at first, with Time's increasing worth
The faint eyes deepened, and the lips awoke,
Till, from a clouded brow, all beauty broke,
And bade him own a wonder of the earth,—
A graceful mind, most gracefully inclosed;
A woman fair and young, but softly free
From the world's wisdom, and hypocrisy;
Or restless spite, or curiosity;
Gentle and glad, yet armed in constancy,
With breathings heavenward, and a faith composed.
Such is the Beauty dowered not to deceive;
Such was the Beauty that dispersed his fear,
And smiled, and said, “O world-sick heart, believe!”
Doubting, he saw all doubts and bodings grim,
Like night dissolving, break and disappear,
While Joy and Trust relumed his vision dim;
Such Joy as clears the wood-lost wanderer's sight,
Who, pushing darkly on, with body bowed.
Through trunks and brush discerns a peering light,
And sees it shine, a star of safety soon;
Or like a stormy moonrise, when the moon
Grows from some blackened ridge of thundercloud,
And slow perfects herself in wondering eyes
That brighten with her round: so sweet surprise
Brightened his look, as that strange beauty beamed
To illume a heart, that had its grace, its power, misdeemed.
Such was the Beauty that dispersed his fear,
And smiled, and said, “O world-sick heart, believe!”
Doubting, he saw all doubts and bodings grim,
Like night dissolving, break and disappear,
While Joy and Trust relumed his vision dim;
Such Joy as clears the wood-lost wanderer's sight,
Who, pushing darkly on, with body bowed.
42
And sees it shine, a star of safety soon;
Or like a stormy moonrise, when the moon
Grows from some blackened ridge of thundercloud,
And slow perfects herself in wondering eyes
That brighten with her round: so sweet surprise
Brightened his look, as that strange beauty beamed
To illume a heart, that had its grace, its power, misdeemed.
| Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | |