 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
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POEMS OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.
AMY'S LOVE-LETTER.
Turning some papers carelessly
That were hid away in a desk unused,
I came upon something yesterday
O'er which I pondered and mused:
That were hid away in a desk unused,
I came upon something yesterday
O'er which I pondered and mused:
A letter, faded now and dim,
And stained in places, as if by tears;
And yet I had hardly thought of him
Who traced its pages for years.
And stained in places, as if by tears;
And yet I had hardly thought of him
Who traced its pages for years.
Though once the happy tears made dim
My eyes, and my blushing cheeks grew hot,
To have but a single word from him,
Fond or foolish, no matter what.
My eyes, and my blushing cheeks grew hot,
To have but a single word from him,
Fond or foolish, no matter what.
If he ever quoted another's rhymes,
Poor in themselves and common-place,
I said them over a thousand times,
As if he had lent them a grace.
Poor in themselves and common-place,
I said them over a thousand times,
As if he had lent them a grace.
The single color that pleased his taste
Was the only one I would have, or wear,
Even in the girdle about my waist
Or the ribbon that bound my hair.
Was the only one I would have, or wear,
Even in the girdle about my waist
Or the ribbon that bound my hair.
Then my flowers were the self-same kind and hue:
And yet how strangely one forgets—
I cannot think which one of the two
It was, or roses or violets!
And yet how strangely one forgets—
I cannot think which one of the two
It was, or roses or violets!
But oh, the visions I knew and nursed,
While I walked in a world unseen before!
For my world began when I knew him first,
And must end when he came no more.
While I walked in a world unseen before!
For my world began when I knew him first,
And must end when he came no more.
We would have died for each other's sake,
Would have given all else in the world below;
And we said and thought that our hearts would break
When we parted, years ago.
Would have given all else in the world below;
And we said and thought that our hearts would break
When we parted, years ago.
How the pain as well as the rapture seems
A shadowy thing I scarce recall,
Passed wholly out of my life and dreams,
As though it had never been at all.
A shadowy thing I scarce recall,
Passed wholly out of my life and dreams,
As though it had never been at all.
And is this the end, and is here the grave
Of our steadfast love and our changeless faith
About which the poets sing and rave,
Naming it strong as death?
Of our steadfast love and our changeless faith
About which the poets sing and rave,
Naming it strong as death?
At least 't is what mine has come to at last,
Stript of all charm and all disguise;
And I wonder if, when he thinks of the past,
He thinks we were foolish or wise?
Stript of all charm and all disguise;
And I wonder if, when he thinks of the past,
He thinks we were foolish or wise?
Well, I am content, so it matters not;
And, speaking about him, some one said—
I wish I could only remember what—
But he 's either married or dead.
And, speaking about him, some one said—
I wish I could only remember what—
But he 's either married or dead.
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DO YOU BLAME HER?
Ne'er lover spake in tenderer words,
While mine were calm, unbroken;
Though I suffered all the pain I gave
In the No, so firmly spoken.
While mine were calm, unbroken;
Though I suffered all the pain I gave
In the No, so firmly spoken.
I marvel what he would think of me,
Who called it a cruel sentence,
If he knew I had almost learned to-day
What it is to feel repentance.
Who called it a cruel sentence,
If he knew I had almost learned to-day
What it is to feel repentance.
For it seems like a strange perversity,
And blind beyond excusing,
To lose the thing we could have kept,
And after, mourn the losing.
And blind beyond excusing,
To lose the thing we could have kept,
And after, mourn the losing.
And this, the prize I might have won,
Was worth a queen's obtaining;
And one, if far beyond my reach,
I had sighed, perchance, for gaining.
Was worth a queen's obtaining;
And one, if far beyond my reach,
I had sighed, perchance, for gaining.
And I know—ah! no one knows so well,
Though my heart is far from breaking—
'T was a loving heart, and an honest hand,
I might have had for the taking.
Though my heart is far from breaking—
'T was a loving heart, and an honest hand,
I might have had for the taking.
And yet, though never one beside
Has place in my thought above him,
I only like him when he is by,
'T is when he is gone I love him.
Has place in my thought above him,
I only like him when he is by,
'T is when he is gone I love him.
Sadly of absence poets sing,
And timid lovers fear it;
But an idol has been worshiped less
Sometimes when we came too near it.
And timid lovers fear it;
But an idol has been worshiped less
Sometimes when we came too near it.
And for him my fancy throws to-day
A thousand graces o'er him;
For he seems a god when he stands afar
And I kneel in my thought before him.
A thousand graces o'er him;
For he seems a god when he stands afar
And I kneel in my thought before him.
But if he were here, and knelt to me
With a lover's fond persistence,
Would the halo brighten to my eyes
That crowns him now in the distance?
With a lover's fond persistence,
Would the halo brighten to my eyes
That crowns him now in the distance?
Could I change the words I have said, and say
Till one of us two shall perish,
Forsaking others, I take this man
Alone, to love and to cherish?
Till one of us two shall perish,
Forsaking others, I take this man
Alone, to love and to cherish?
Alas! whatever beside to-day
I might dream like a fond romancer,
I know my heart so well that I know
I should give him the self-same answer.
I might dream like a fond romancer,
I know my heart so well that I know
I should give him the self-same answer.
SONG.
Laugh out, O stream, from your bed of green,
Where you lie in the sun's embrace;
And talk to the reeds that o'er you lean
To touch your dimpled face;
But let your talk be sweet as it will,
And your laughter be as gay,
You cannot laugh as I laugh in my heart,
For my lover will come to-day!
Where you lie in the sun's embrace;
And talk to the reeds that o'er you lean
To touch your dimpled face;
But let your talk be sweet as it will,
And your laughter be as gay,
You cannot laugh as I laugh in my heart,
For my lover will come to-day!
Sing sweet, little bird, sing out to your mate
That hides in the leafy grove;
Sing clear and tell him for him you wait,
And tell him of all your love;
But though you sing till you shake the buds
And the tender leaves of May,
My spirit thrills with a sweeter song,
For my lover must come to-day!
That hides in the leafy grove;
Sing clear and tell him for him you wait,
And tell him of all your love;
But though you sing till you shake the buds
And the tender leaves of May,
My spirit thrills with a sweeter song,
For my lover must come to-day!
Come up, O winds, come up from the south
With eager hurrying feet,
And kiss your red rose on her mouth
In the bower where she blushes sweet;
But you cannot kiss your darling flower,
Though you clasp her as you may,
As I kiss in my thought the lover dear
I shall hold in my arms to-day!
With eager hurrying feet,
And kiss your red rose on her mouth
In the bower where she blushes sweet;
But you cannot kiss your darling flower,
Though you clasp her as you may,
As I kiss in my thought the lover dear
I shall hold in my arms to-day!
SOMEBODY'S LOVERS.
Too meek by half was he who came
A-wooing me one morn,
For he thought so little of himself
I learned to share his scorn.
A-wooing me one morn,
For he thought so little of himself
I learned to share his scorn.
At night I had a suitor, vain
As the vainest in the land;
Almost he seemed to condescend
In the offer of his hand.
As the vainest in the land;
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In the offer of his hand.
In one who pressed his suit I missed
Courage and manly pride;
And how could I think of such a one
As a leader and a guide?
Courage and manly pride;
And how could I think of such a one
As a leader and a guide?
And then there came a worshiper
With such undoubting trust,
That when he knelt he seemed not worth
Upraising from the dust.
With such undoubting trust,
That when he knelt he seemed not worth
Upraising from the dust.
The next was never in the wrong,
Was not too smooth nor rough;
So faultless and so good was he,
That that was fault enough.
Was not too smooth nor rough;
So faultless and so good was he,
That that was fault enough.
But one, the last of all who came,
I know not how to paint;
No angel do I seem to him—
He scarcely calls me saint!
I know not how to paint;
No angel do I seem to him—
He scarcely calls me saint!
He hath such sins and weaknesses
As mortal man befall;
He hath a thousand faults, and yet
I love him with them all!
As mortal man befall;
He hath a thousand faults, and yet
I love him with them all!
He never asked me yea nor nay,
Nor knelt to me one hour;
But he took my heart, and holds my heart
With a lover's tender power.
Nor knelt to me one hour;
But he took my heart, and holds my heart
With a lover's tender power.
And I bow, as needs I must, and say,
In proud humility.
Love's might is right, and I yield at last
To manhood's royalty!
In proud humility.
Love's might is right, and I yield at last
To manhood's royalty!
ON THE RIVER.
Darling, while the tender moon
Of this soft, delicious June,
Watches o'er thee like a lover;
While we journey to the sea,
Silently,
Let me tell my story over.
Of this soft, delicious June,
Watches o'er thee like a lover;
While we journey to the sea,
Silently,
Let me tell my story over.
Ah! how clear before my sight
Rises up that summer night,
When I told thee first my passion;
And the little crimson streak,
In thy cheek.
Showed thy love in comeliest fashion.
Rises up that summer night,
When I told thee first my passion;
And the little crimson streak,
In thy cheek.
Showed thy love in comeliest fashion.
When I pleaded for reply,
Silent lip and downcast eye,
Turning from me both dissembled;
But the lily hand that shone
In mine own,
Like a lily softly trembled.
Silent lip and downcast eye,
Turning from me both dissembled;
But the lily hand that shone
In mine own,
Like a lily softly trembled.
And the pretty words that passed
O'er thy coral lips at last,
Still as precious pearls I treasure;
And the payment lovers give,
While I live,
Shall be given thee without measure.
O'er thy coral lips at last,
Still as precious pearls I treasure;
And the payment lovers give,
While I live,
Shall be given thee without measure.
For I may not offer thee
Such poor words as mine must be;
I perforce must speak my blisses
In the language of mine eyes,
Mixed with sighs,
And the tender speech of kisses.
Such poor words as mine must be;
I perforce must speak my blisses
In the language of mine eyes,
Mixed with sighs,
And the tender speech of kisses.
Heart, encompassed in my heart!
Hopeful, happy as thou art,
Will I keep and ne'er forsake thee;
Yea, my love shall hold thee fast,
Till the last,
So that heaven alone can take thee!
Hopeful, happy as thou art,
Will I keep and ne'er forsake thee;
Yea, my love shall hold thee fast,
Till the last,
So that heaven alone can take thee!
And if sorrow ever spread
Threatening showers o'er thy head,
All about thee will I gather,
Whatsoever things are bright,
That thy sight
May be tempted earthward rather;
Threatening showers o'er thy head,
All about thee will I gather,
Whatsoever things are bright,
That thy sight
May be tempted earthward rather;
From thy pathway, for love's sake,
Carefully my hand will take,
Every thorn anear it growing;
And my lamb within my arms,
Safe from harms,
Will I shield when winds are blowing.
Carefully my hand will take,
Every thorn anear it growing;
And my lamb within my arms,
Safe from harms,
Will I shield when winds are blowing.
Fairest woman, holiest saint!
If my words of praise could paint
Thee, as liberal Nature made thee;
All who saw my picture, sweet,
Would repeat,
“He who painted, loved the lady!”
If my words of praise could paint
Thee, as liberal Nature made thee;
All who saw my picture, sweet,
Would repeat,
“He who painted, loved the lady!”
Has the wide world anything
Thou wilt take or I may bring,
I will treat no work disdainful;
Set me some true lover's task,
Dearest, ask
Any service, sweet or painful.
Thou wilt take or I may bring,
I will treat no work disdainful;
Set me some true lover's task,
Dearest, ask
Any service, sweet or painful.
If it please thee, over me,
Practice petty tyranny,
Punish me as for misdoing,
Let me make of penitence
Sad pretense,
At thy feet for pardon suing.
Practice petty tyranny,
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Let me make of penitence
Sad pretense,
At thy feet for pardon suing.
Darling, all our life must be,
Thou with me, and I with thee,
Calm as this delicious weather;
We will keep our honeymoon
Every June,
Voyaging through life together.
Thou with me, and I with thee,
Calm as this delicious weather;
We will keep our honeymoon
Every June,
Voyaging through life together.
You and me, we used to say,
We were two but yesterday;
We were as the sea and river;
Now our lives have all the sweetness,
And completeness
Of two souls made one forever!
We were two but yesterday;
We were as the sea and river;
Now our lives have all the sweetness,
And completeness
Of two souls made one forever!
INCONSTANCY.
All in a dreary April day,
When the light of my sky was changed to gloom,
My first love drooped and faded away,
While I sorrowed over its waning bloom.
When the light of my sky was changed to gloom,
My first love drooped and faded away,
While I sorrowed over its waning bloom.
And I buried it, saying bitterly,
As I watered its grave with a rain of tears;
“No flower of love will bloom for me
Save this one, dead in my early years!”
As I watered its grave with a rain of tears;
“No flower of love will bloom for me
Save this one, dead in my early years!”
But the May-time pushes the April out,
And the summer of life succeeds the May;
And the heaviest clouds of grief and doubt,
In weeping, weep themselves away.
And the summer of life succeeds the May;
And the heaviest clouds of grief and doubt,
In weeping, weep themselves away.
And ere I had ceased to mourn above
My cherished flower's untimely tomb,
Right out of the grave of that buried love
There sprang another and fairer bloom.
My cherished flower's untimely tomb,
Right out of the grave of that buried love
There sprang another and fairer bloom.
And I cried, “Sleep softly, my perished rose,
My pretty bud of an April hour;
While I live in the beauty that burns and glows,
In the summer heart of my passion flower!”
My pretty bud of an April hour;
While I live in the beauty that burns and glows,
In the summer heart of my passion flower!”
LOVE CANNOT DIE.
Once, when my youth was in its flower,
I lived in an enchanted bower,
Unvexed with fear or care,
With one who made my world so bright,
I thought no darkness and no blight
Could ever enter there.
I lived in an enchanted bower,
Unvexed with fear or care,
With one who made my world so bright,
I thought no darkness and no blight
Could ever enter there.
I have no friend like that to-day,
The very bower has passed away;
It was not what it seemed;
I know in all the world of men
There is not and there ne'er has been,
That one of whom I dreamed!
The very bower has passed away;
It was not what it seemed;
I know in all the world of men
There is not and there ne'er has been,
That one of whom I dreamed!
And one I loved and called my friend,
And hoped to walk with to the end,
And on the better shore,
Has changed so cruelly that she,
Out of my years that are to be,
Is lost for evermore.
And hoped to walk with to the end,
And on the better shore,
Has changed so cruelly that she,
Out of my years that are to be,
Is lost for evermore.
With his dear eyes in death shut fast,
Sleeps one who loved me to the last,
Beneath the church-yard stone;
Yet hath his spirit always been
Near me to cheer the world wherein
I seem to walk alone.
Sleeps one who loved me to the last,
Beneath the church-yard stone;
Yet hath his spirit always been
Near me to cheer the world wherein
I seem to walk alone.
There was a little golden head
A few brief seasons pillowèd
Softly my own beside;
That pillow long has been unprest—
That child yet sleeps upon my breast
As though she had not died,
A few brief seasons pillowèd
Softly my own beside;
That pillow long has been unprest—
That child yet sleeps upon my breast
As though she had not died,
And seeing that I always hold
Mine earthly loves, in love's sweet fold,
I thus have learned to know,
That He, whose tenderness divine
Surpasses every thought of mine,
Will never let me go.
Mine earthly loves, in love's sweet fold,
I thus have learned to know,
That He, whose tenderness divine
Surpasses every thought of mine,
Will never let me go.
Yea, thou, whose love, so strong, so great,
Nor life nor death can separate
From souls within thy care;
I know that though in heaven I dwell,
Or go to make my bed in hell,
Thou still art with me there!
Nor life nor death can separate
From souls within thy care;
I know that though in heaven I dwell,
Or go to make my bed in hell,
Thou still art with me there!
HELPLESS.
You never said a word to me
That was cruel, under the sun;
It is n't the things you do, darling,
But the things you leave undone.
That was cruel, under the sun;
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But the things you leave undone.
If you could but know a wish or want
You would grant it joyfully;
Ah! that is the worst of all, darling,
That you cannot know nor see.
You would grant it joyfully;
Ah! that is the worst of all, darling,
That you cannot know nor see.
For favors free alone are sweet,
Not those that we must seek;
If you loved as I love you, darling,
I would not need to speak.
Not those that we must seek;
If you loved as I love you, darling,
I would not need to speak.
But to-day I am helpless as a child
That must be led along;
Then put your hand in mine, darling,
And make me brave and strong.
That must be led along;
Then put your hand in mine, darling,
And make me brave and strong.
There 's a heavy care upon my mind,
A trouble on my brain;
Now gently stroke my hair, darling,
And take away the pain.
A trouble on my brain;
Now gently stroke my hair, darling,
And take away the pain.
I feel a weight within my breast,
As if all had gone amiss;
Oh, kiss me with your lips, darling,
And fill my heart with bliss.
As if all had gone amiss;
Oh, kiss me with your lips, darling,
And fill my heart with bliss.
Enough! no deeper joy than this
For souls below is given;
Now take me in your arms, darling,
And lift me up to heaven!
For souls below is given;
Now take me in your arms, darling,
And lift me up to heaven!
MY HELPER.
We stood, my soul and I,
In fearful jeopardy,
The while the fire and tempest passed us by.
In fearful jeopardy,
The while the fire and tempest passed us by.
For I was pushed by fate
Into that fearful strait,
Where there was nothing but to stand and wait.
Into that fearful strait,
Where there was nothing but to stand and wait.
I had no company—
The world was dark to me:
Whence any light might come I could not see.
The world was dark to me:
Whence any light might come I could not see.
I lacked each common good,
Nor raiment had nor food;
The earth seemed slipping from me where I stood.
Nor raiment had nor food;
The earth seemed slipping from me where I stood.
One who had wealth essayed;
Gold in my hand he laid;
He proffered all his treasures for my aid.
Gold in my hand he laid;
He proffered all his treasures for my aid.
Yet from his gilded roof,
I needs must stand aloof;
I could not put his kindness to the proof.
I needs must stand aloof;
I could not put his kindness to the proof.
One who had wisdom, said,
“By me be taught and led,
And thou, thyself, mayst win both home and bread.
“By me be taught and led,
And thou, thyself, mayst win both home and bread.
Too strong and wise was he,
Too far away from me,
To help me in my great necessity.
Too far away from me,
To help me in my great necessity.
Came one, with modest guise,
With tender, downcast eyes,
With voice as sweet as mothers' lullabies.
With tender, downcast eyes,
With voice as sweet as mothers' lullabies.
Softly his words did fall,
“My riches are so small
I cannot give thee anything at all.
“My riches are so small
I cannot give thee anything at all.
“I cannot guide thy way,
As wiser mortals may;
But all my true heart at thy feet I lay.”
As wiser mortals may;
But all my true heart at thy feet I lay.”
No more earth seemed to move,
The skies grew bright above;
He gave me everything, who gave me love!
The skies grew bright above;
He gave me everything, who gave me love!
I had sweet company,
Food, raiment, luxury;
Had all the world—had heaven come down to me!
Food, raiment, luxury;
Had all the world—had heaven come down to me!
And now such peace is mine,
Surely a light divine
Must make my face with holiest joy to shine.
Surely a light divine
Must make my face with holiest joy to shine.
So that my heart's delight
Is published in men's sight;
And night and day I cry, and day and night;
Is published in men's sight;
And night and day I cry, and day and night;
O soul, no more alone,
Such bliss as thine is known
But to the angels nearest love's white throne!
Such bliss as thine is known
But to the angels nearest love's white throne!
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FAITHFUL.
Fainter and fainter may fall on my ear
The voice that is sweeter than music to hear;
More and more eagerly then will I list,
That never a word or an accent be missed.
The voice that is sweeter than music to hear;
More and more eagerly then will I list,
That never a word or an accent be missed.
Slower and slower the footstep may grow,
Whose fall is the pleasantest sound that I know;
Quicker and quicker my glad heart shall learn
To catch its faint echo and bless its return.
Whose fall is the pleasantest sound that I know;
Quicker and quicker my glad heart shall learn
To catch its faint echo and bless its return.
Whiter and whiter may turn with each day
The locks that so sadly are changing to gray;
Dearer and dearer shall these seem to me,
The fewer and whiter and thinner they be.
The locks that so sadly are changing to gray;
Dearer and dearer shall these seem to me,
The fewer and whiter and thinner they be.
Weaker and weaker may be the light clasp
Of the hand that I hold so secure in my grasp;
Stronger and stronger my own to the last
Will cling to it, holding it tenderly fast.
Of the hand that I hold so secure in my grasp;
Stronger and stronger my own to the last
Will cling to it, holding it tenderly fast.
Darker and darker above thee may spread
The clouds of a fate that is hopeless and dread;
Brighter and brighter the sun of my love
Will shine, all the shadows and mists to remove.
The clouds of a fate that is hopeless and dread;
Brighter and brighter the sun of my love
Will shine, all the shadows and mists to remove.
Envy and malice thy life may assail,
Favor and fortune and friendship may fail;
But perfect and sure, and undying shall be
The trust of this heart that is centred in thee!
Favor and fortune and friendship may fail;
But perfect and sure, and undying shall be
The trust of this heart that is centred in thee!
THE LAST ACT.
A wretched farce is our life at best,
A weariness under the sun;
I am sick of the part I have to play,
And I would that it were done.
A weariness under the sun;
I am sick of the part I have to play,
And I would that it were done.
I would that all the smiles and sighs
Of its mimic scenes could end;
That we could see the curtain fall
On the last poor act, my friend!
Of its mimic scenes could end;
That we could see the curtain fall
On the last poor act, my friend!
Thin, faded hair, a beard of snow,
A thoughtful, furrowed brow;
And this is all the world can see
When it looks upon you now.
A thoughtful, furrowed brow;
And this is all the world can see
When it looks upon you now.
And I, it almost makes me smile,
'T is counterfeit so true,
To see how Time hath got me up
For the part I have to do.
'T is counterfeit so true,
To see how Time hath got me up
For the part I have to do.
'T is strange that we can keep in mind,
Through all this tedious play,
The way we needs must act and look,
And the words that we should say.
Through all this tedious play,
The way we needs must act and look,
And the words that we should say.
And I marvel if the young and gay
Believe us sad and old;
If they think our pulses slow and calm,
And our feelings dead and cold!
Believe us sad and old;
If they think our pulses slow and calm,
And our feelings dead and cold!
But I cannot hide myself from you,
Be the semblance e'er so good;
For under it all and through it all
You would know the womanhood.
Be the semblance e'er so good;
For under it all and through it all
You would know the womanhood.
And you cannot make me doubt your truth,
For all your strange disguise;
For the soul is drawn through your tender voice,
And the heart through the loving eyes.
For all your strange disguise;
For the soul is drawn through your tender voice,
And the heart through the loving eyes.
And I see, where other eyes behold
Thin, whitened locks fall down,
A god-like head, that proudly wears
Its curls like a royal crown.
Thin, whitened locks fall down,
A god-like head, that proudly wears
Its curls like a royal crown.
And I see the smile of the tender lip,
'Neath its manly fringe of jet,
That won my heart, when I had a heart,
And that holds and keeps it yet.
'Neath its manly fringe of jet,
That won my heart, when I had a heart,
And that holds and keeps it yet.
Ah! how shall we act this wretched part
Till its weary, weary close?
For our souls are young, we are lovers yet,
For all our shams and shows!
Till its weary, weary close?
For our souls are young, we are lovers yet,
For all our shams and shows!
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Let us go and lay our masks aside
In that cool and green retreat,
That is softly curtained from the world
By the daisies fair and sweet.
In that cool and green retreat,
That is softly curtained from the world
By the daisies fair and sweet.
And far away from this weary life,
In the light of Love's white throne,
We shall see, at last, as we are seen,
And know as we are known!
In the light of Love's white throne,
We shall see, at last, as we are seen,
And know as we are known!
TRUE LOVE.
I think true love is never blind,
But rather brings an added light;
An inner vision quick to find
The beauties hid from common sight.
But rather brings an added light;
An inner vision quick to find
The beauties hid from common sight.
No soul can ever clearly see
Another's highest, noblest part;
Save through the sweet philosophy
And loving wisdom of the heart.
Another's highest, noblest part;
Save through the sweet philosophy
And loving wisdom of the heart.
Your unanointed eyes shall fall
On him who fills my world with light;
You do not see my friend at all,
You see what hides him from your sight.
On him who fills my world with light;
You do not see my friend at all,
You see what hides him from your sight.
I see the feet that fain would climb,
You, but the steps that turn astray:
I see the soul unharmed, sublime;
You, but the garment, and the clay.
You, but the steps that turn astray:
I see the soul unharmed, sublime;
You, but the garment, and the clay.
You see a mortal, weak, misled,
Dwarfed ever by the earthly clod;
I see how manhood, perfected,
May reach the stature of a god.
Dwarfed ever by the earthly clod;
I see how manhood, perfected,
May reach the stature of a god.
Blinded I stood, as now you stand,
Till on mine eyes, with touches sweet,
Love, the deliverer, laid his hand,
And lo! I worship at his feet!
Till on mine eyes, with touches sweet,
Love, the deliverer, laid his hand,
And lo! I worship at his feet!
COMPLAINT.
“Though we were parted, or though he had died,”
She said, “I could bear the worst,
If he only had loved me at the last,
As he loved me at the first.
She said, “I could bear the worst,
If he only had loved me at the last,
As he loved me at the first.
“But woe is me!” said the hapless maid.
“That ever a lover came;
Since he who lit in my heart the fire,
Has failed to tend the flame.
“That ever a lover came;
Since he who lit in my heart the fire,
Has failed to tend the flame.
“Ah! why did he pour in my life's poor cup
A nectar so divine,
If he had no power to fill it up
With a draught as pure and fine?
A nectar so divine,
If he had no power to fill it up
With a draught as pure and fine?
“Why did he give me one holiday,
Then send me back to toil?
Why did he set a lamp in my house,
And leave it lacking oil?
Then send me back to toil?
Why did he set a lamp in my house,
And leave it lacking oil?
“Why did he plant the rose in my cheeks
When he knew it could not thrive—
That the dew of kisses, only, keeps
The true blush-rose alive?
When he knew it could not thrive—
That the dew of kisses, only, keeps
The true blush-rose alive?
“If he tired so soon of the song I sung
In our love's delicious June,
Why did he set the thoughts of my heart
All to one blessed tune?
In our love's delicious June,
Why did he set the thoughts of my heart
All to one blessed tune?
“Oh, if he were either true or false,
My torment might have end:
He hath been, for a lover, too unkind;
Too loving for a friend!
My torment might have end:
He hath been, for a lover, too unkind;
Too loving for a friend!
“And there is not a soul in all the world
So wretched as mine must be,
For I cannot live on his love,” she said,
“Nor die of his cruelty.”
So wretched as mine must be,
For I cannot live on his love,” she said,
“Nor die of his cruelty.”
DOVES' EYES.
There are eyes that look through us,
With the power to undo us,
Eyes of the lovingest, tenderest blue,
Clear as the heavens and as truthful too;
But these are not my love's eyes,
For, behold, he hath doves' eyes!
With the power to undo us,
Eyes of the lovingest, tenderest blue,
Clear as the heavens and as truthful too;
But these are not my love's eyes,
For, behold, he hath doves' eyes!
There are eyes half defiant,
Half meek and compliant;
Black eyes, with a wondrous, witching charm
To bring us good or to work us harm;
But these are not my love's eyes,
For, behold he hath doves' eyes!
Half meek and compliant;
Black eyes, with a wondrous, witching charm
To bring us good or to work us harm;
But these are not my love's eyes,
For, behold he hath doves' eyes!
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There are eyes to our feeling
Forever appealing;
Eyes of a helpless, pleading brown,
That into our very souls look down;
But these are not my love's eyes,
For, behold, he hath doves' eyes!
Forever appealing;
Eyes of a helpless, pleading brown,
That into our very souls look down;
But these are not my love's eyes,
For, behold, he hath doves' eyes!
Oh eyes, dearest, sweetest.
In beauty completest;
Whose perfectness cannot be told in a word,—
Clear and deep as the eyes of a soft, brooding bird;
These, these are my love's eyes,
For, behold, he hath doves' eyes!
In beauty completest;
Whose perfectness cannot be told in a word,—
Clear and deep as the eyes of a soft, brooding bird;
These, these are my love's eyes,
For, behold, he hath doves' eyes!
THE HUNTER'S WIFE.
My head is sick and my heart is faint,
I am wearied out with my own complaint.
Answer me, come to me, then;
For, lo! I have pleaded by everything
My brain could dream, or my lips could sing.
I have called you lover, and called you king,
And man of the race of men!
I am wearied out with my own complaint.
Answer me, come to me, then;
For, lo! I have pleaded by everything
My brain could dream, or my lips could sing.
I have called you lover, and called you king,
And man of the race of men!
Come to me glad, and I will be glad;
But if you are weary, or if you are sad,
I will be patient and meek.
Nor word, nor smile will I seem to crave;
But I 'll sit and wait, like an Eastern slave,
Or wife, in the lodge of an Indian brave,
In silence, till you speak.
But if you are weary, or if you are sad,
I will be patient and meek.
Nor word, nor smile will I seem to crave;
But I 'll sit and wait, like an Eastern slave,
Or wife, in the lodge of an Indian brave,
In silence, till you speak.
Come, for the power of life and death
Hangs for me on the lightest breath
Of the lips that I believe;
Only pause by the cooling lake.
Till your weary mule her thirst shall slake;
'T were a fearful thing if a heart should break
And you held its sweet reprieve!
Hangs for me on the lightest breath
Of the lips that I believe;
Only pause by the cooling lake.
Till your weary mule her thirst shall slake;
'T were a fearful thing if a heart should break
And you held its sweet reprieve!
Sleep lightly under the loving moon;
Rise with the morning, and ride till noon;
Ride till the stars are above;
And as you distance the mountain herds,
And shame the flight of the summer birds,
Say softly over the tenderest words
The poets have sung of love.
Rise with the morning, and ride till noon;
Ride till the stars are above;
And as you distance the mountain herds,
And shame the flight of the summer birds,
Say softly over the tenderest words
The poets have sung of love.
You will come—you are coming—a thousand miles
Away, I can see you press through the aisles
Of the forest, cool and gray;
And my lips shall be dumb till our lips have met,
For never skill of a mortal yet,
To mortal words such music set,
As beats in my heart to-day!
Away, I can see you press through the aisles
Of the forest, cool and gray;
And my lips shall be dumb till our lips have met,
For never skill of a mortal yet,
To mortal words such music set,
As beats in my heart to-day!
LOVERS AND SWEETHEARTS.
Fair youth, too timid to lift your eyes
To the maiden with downcast look,
As you mingle the gold and brown of your curls
Together over a book;
A fluttering hope that she dare not name
Her trembling bosom heaves;
And your heart is thrilled, when your fingers meet,
As you softly turn the leaves.
To the maiden with downcast look,
As you mingle the gold and brown of your curls
Together over a book;
A fluttering hope that she dare not name
Her trembling bosom heaves;
And your heart is thrilled, when your fingers meet,
As you softly turn the leaves.
Perchance you two will walk alone
Next year at some sweet day's close,
And your talk will fall to a tenderer tone,
As you liken her cheek to a rose;
And then her face will flush and glow,
With a hopeful, happy red;
Outblushing all the flowers that grow
Anear in the garden-bed.
Next year at some sweet day's close,
And your talk will fall to a tenderer tone,
As you liken her cheek to a rose;
And then her face will flush and glow,
With a hopeful, happy red;
Outblushing all the flowers that grow
Anear in the garden-bed.
If you plead for hope, she may bashful drop
Her head on your shoulder, low;
And you will be lovers and sweethearts then
As youths and maidens go:
Lovers and sweethearts, dreaming dreams,
And seeing visions that please,
With never a thought that life is made
Of great realities;
Her head on your shoulder, low;
And you will be lovers and sweethearts then
As youths and maidens go:
Lovers and sweethearts, dreaming dreams,
And seeing visions that please,
With never a thought that life is made
Of great realities;
That the cords of love must be strong as death
Which hold and keep a heart,
Not daisy-chains, that snap in the breeze,
Or break with their weight apart;
For the pretty colors of youth's fair morn
Fade out from the noonday sky;
And blushing loves, in the roses born,
Alas! with the roses die!
Which hold and keep a heart,
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Or break with their weight apart;
For the pretty colors of youth's fair morn
Fade out from the noonday sky;
And blushing loves, in the roses born,
Alas! with the roses die!
But the love, that when youth's morn is past,
Still sweet and true survives,
Is the faith we need to lean upon
In the crises of our lives:
The love that shines in the eyes grown dim,
In the voice that trembles speaks;
And sees the roses, that a year ago
Withered and died in our cheeks;
Still sweet and true survives,
Is the faith we need to lean upon
In the crises of our lives:
The love that shines in the eyes grown dim,
In the voice that trembles speaks;
And sees the roses, that a year ago
Withered and died in our cheeks;
That sheds a halo round us still,
Of soft immortal light,
When we change youth's golden coronal
For a crown of silver white:
A love for sickness and for health,
For rapture and for tears;
That will live for us, and bear with us
Through all our mortal years.
Of soft immortal light,
When we change youth's golden coronal
For a crown of silver white:
A love for sickness and for health,
For rapture and for tears;
That will live for us, and bear with us
Through all our mortal years.
And such there is; there are lovers here,
On the brink of the grave that stand,
Who shall cross to the hills beyond, and walk
Forever hand in hand!
Pray, youth and maid, that your end be theirs,
Who are joined no more to part;
For death comes not to the living soul,
Nor age to the loving heart!
On the brink of the grave that stand,
Who shall cross to the hills beyond, and walk
Forever hand in hand!
Pray, youth and maid, that your end be theirs,
Who are joined no more to part;
For death comes not to the living soul,
Nor age to the loving heart!
THE ROSE.
The sun, who smiles wherever he goes,
Till the flowers all smile again,
Fell in love one day with a bashful rose,
That had been a bud till then.
Till the flowers all smile again,
Fell in love one day with a bashful rose,
That had been a bud till then.
So he pushed back the folds of the soft green hood
That covered her modest grace,
And kissed her as only the bold sun could,
Till the crimson burned in her face.
That covered her modest grace,
And kissed her as only the bold sun could,
Till the crimson burned in her face.
But woe for the day when his golden hair
Tangled her heart in a net;
And woe for the night of her dark despair,
When her cheek with tears was wet!
Tangled her heart in a net;
And woe for the night of her dark despair,
When her cheek with tears was wet!
For she loved him as only a young rose could:
And he left her crushed and weak,
Striving in vain with her faded hood
To cover her burning cheek.
And he left her crushed and weak,
Striving in vain with her faded hood
To cover her burning cheek.
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A DAY DREAM.
If fancy do not all deceive,
If dreams have any truth,
Thy love must summon back to me
The glories of my youth;
For if but hope unto my thought
Such transformation brings,
May not fruition have the power
To change all outward things!
If dreams have any truth,
Thy love must summon back to me
The glories of my youth;
For if but hope unto my thought
Such transformation brings,
May not fruition have the power
To change all outward things!
Come, then, and look into mine eyes
Till faith hath left no doubt;
So shalt thou set in them a light
That never can go out;
Or lay thy hand upon my hair,
And keep it black as night;
The tresses that had felt that touch
Would shame to turn to white.
Till faith hath left no doubt;
So shalt thou set in them a light
That never can go out;
Or lay thy hand upon my hair,
And keep it black as night;
The tresses that had felt that touch
Would shame to turn to white.
To me it were no miracle,
If, when I hear thee speak.
Lilies around my neck should bloom
And roses in my cheek;
Or if the joy of thy caress,
The wonder of thy smiles,
Smoothed all my forehead out again
As perfect as a child's.
If, when I hear thee speak.
Lilies around my neck should bloom
And roses in my cheek;
Or if the joy of thy caress,
The wonder of thy smiles,
Smoothed all my forehead out again
As perfect as a child's.
My lip is trembling with such bliss
As mortal never heard;
My heart, exulting to itself,
Keeps singing like a bird;
And while about my tasks I go
Quietly all the day,
I could laugh out, as children laugh,
Upon the hills at play.
As mortal never heard;
My heart, exulting to itself,
Keeps singing like a bird;
And while about my tasks I go
Quietly all the day,
I could laugh out, as children laugh,
Upon the hills at play.
O thou, whom fancy brings to me
With morning's earliest beams,
Who walkest with me down the night,
The paradise of dreams;
I charge thee, by the power of love,
To answer to love's call;
Wake me to perfect happiness,
Or wake me not at all!
With morning's earliest beams,
Who walkest with me down the night,
The paradise of dreams;
I charge thee, by the power of love,
To answer to love's call;
Wake me to perfect happiness,
Or wake me not at all!
THE PRIZE.
Hope wafts my bark, and round my way
Her pleasant sunshine lies;
For I sail with a royal argosy
To win a royal prize.
Her pleasant sunshine lies;
For I sail with a royal argosy
To win a royal prize.
A maiden sits in her loveliness
On the shore of a distant stream,
And over the waters at her feet
The lilies float, and dream.
On the shore of a distant stream,
And over the waters at her feet
The lilies float, and dream.
She reaches down, and draws them in,
With a hand that hath no stain;
And that lily of all the lilies, her hand,
Is the prize I go to gain.
With a hand that hath no stain;
And that lily of all the lilies, her hand,
Is the prize I go to gain.
Her hair in a yellow flood falls down
From her forehead low and white;
I would bathe in its billowy gold, and dream,
In its sea of soft delight.
From her forehead low and white;
I would bathe in its billowy gold, and dream,
In its sea of soft delight.
Her cheek is as fair as a tender flower,
When its blushing leaves dispart;
Oh, my rose of the world, my regal rose,
I must wear you on my heart!
When its blushing leaves dispart;
Oh, my rose of the world, my regal rose,
I must wear you on my heart!
I must kiss your lips, so sweetly closed
O'er their pearly treasures fair;
Or strike on their coral reef, and sink
In the waves of my dark despair!
O'er their pearly treasures fair;
Or strike on their coral reef, and sink
In the waves of my dark despair!
A WOMAN'S ANSWER.
“Love thee?” Thou canst not ask of me
So freely as I fain would give;
'T is woman's great necessity
To love so long as she shall live;
Therefore, if thou dost lovely prove,
I cannot choose but give thee love!
So freely as I fain would give;
'T is woman's great necessity
To love so long as she shall live;
Therefore, if thou dost lovely prove,
I cannot choose but give thee love!
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“Honor thee?” By her reverence
The truest woman best is known;
She needs must honor where she finds
A nature loftier than her own;
I shall not turn from thee away,
Unless I find my idol clay!
The truest woman best is known;
She needs must honor where she finds
A nature loftier than her own;
I shall not turn from thee away,
Unless I find my idol clay!
“Obey?” Doth not the stronger will
The weaker govern and restrain?
Most sweet obedience woman yields
Where wisdom, power, manhood reign.
I 'll give thee, if thou canst control,
The meek submission of my soul!
The weaker govern and restrain?
Most sweet obedience woman yields
Where wisdom, power, manhood reign.
I 'll give thee, if thou canst control,
The meek submission of my soul!
Henceforward all my life shall be
Moulded and fashioned by thine own;
If wisdom, power, and constancy
In all thy words and deeds are shown;
Whether my vow be yea or nay,
I 'll “love, and honor, and obey.”
Moulded and fashioned by thine own;
If wisdom, power, and constancy
In all thy words and deeds are shown;
Whether my vow be yea or nay,
I 'll “love, and honor, and obey.”
IN ABSENCE.
Watch her kindly, stars;
From the sweet protecting skies
Follow her with tender eyes,
Look so lovingly that she
Cannot choose but think of me:
Watch her kindly, stars!
From the sweet protecting skies
Follow her with tender eyes,
Look so lovingly that she
Cannot choose but think of me:
Watch her kindly, stars!
Soothe her sweetly, night:
On her eyes, o'erwearied, press
The tired lids with light caress;
Let that shadowy hand of thine
Ever in her dreams seem mine:
Soothe her sweetly, night!
On her eyes, o'erwearied, press
The tired lids with light caress;
Let that shadowy hand of thine
Ever in her dreams seem mine:
Soothe her sweetly, night!
Wake her gently, morn:
Let the notes of early birds
Seem like love's melodious words;
Every pleasant sound my dear,
When she stirs from sleep should hear:
Wake her gently, morn!
Let the notes of early birds
Seem like love's melodious words;
Every pleasant sound my dear,
When she stirs from sleep should hear:
Wake her gently, morn!
Kiss her softly, winds:
Softly, that she may not miss
Any sweet, accustomed bliss;
On her lips, her eyes, her face,
Till I come to take your place,
Kiss and kiss her, winds!
Softly, that she may not miss
Any sweet, accustomed bliss;
On her lips, her eyes, her face,
Till I come to take your place,
Kiss and kiss her, winds!
ENCHANTMENT.
Her cup of life with joy is full,
And her heart is thrilling so
That the beaker shakes in her trembling hand.
Till its sweet drops overflow.
And her heart is thrilling so
That the beaker shakes in her trembling hand.
Till its sweet drops overflow.
All day she walks as in a trance;
And the thought she does not speak,
But tries to hide from the world away,
Burns out in her tell-tale cheek.
And the thought she does not speak,
But tries to hide from the world away,
Burns out in her tell-tale cheek.
And often from her dreams of night
She wakes to consciousness,
As the golden thread of her slumber breaks
With the burden of its bliss.
She wakes to consciousness,
As the golden thread of her slumber breaks
With the burden of its bliss.
She is almost troubled with the wealth
Of a joy so great and good,
That she may not keep it to herself,
Nor tell it if she would.
Of a joy so great and good,
That she may not keep it to herself,
Nor tell it if she would.
'T is strange that this should come to one
Who, all her life before,
Content in her quiet household ways,
Has asked for nothing more.
Who, all her life before,
Content in her quiet household ways,
Has asked for nothing more.
And stranger, that he, in whom the power,
The wonderful magic lay,
That has changed her world to a paradise,
Was a man but yesterday!
The wonderful magic lay,
That has changed her world to a paradise,
Was a man but yesterday!
WOOED AND WON.
The maiden has listened to loving words,
She has seen a heart like a flower unclose;
And yet she would almost hide its truth,
And shut the leaves of the blushing rose.
She has seen a heart like a flower unclose;
And yet she would almost hide its truth,
And shut the leaves of the blushing rose.
For the spell of enchantment is broken now,
And all the future is seen so clear,
That she longs for the very longing gone,
For the restless pleasure of hope and fear.
And all the future is seen so clear,
That she longs for the very longing gone,
For the restless pleasure of hope and fear.
She stands so close to her painting now
That its smallest failings are revealed,—
Ah, that beautiful picture, that looked so sweet,
By the misty distance half concealed!
That its smallest failings are revealed,—
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By the misty distance half concealed!
“Alas,” she says, “can it then be true
That all is vanity, as they preach.—
That the good is in striving after the good,
And the best is the thing we never reach?
That all is vanity, as they preach.—
That the good is in striving after the good,
And the best is the thing we never reach?
“Are not the sweetest words we can speak:
‘It is mine, and I hold my treasure fast?’
And the saddest wrung from the human heart:
‘It might have been, but the time is past?’
‘It is mine, and I hold my treasure fast?’
And the saddest wrung from the human heart:
‘It might have been, but the time is past?’
“I do not know, and I will not say,
But yet of a truth it seems to me,
I would give my certain knowledge back
For my hope, with its sweet uncertainty!”
But yet of a truth it seems to me,
I would give my certain knowledge back
For my hope, with its sweet uncertainty!”
LOVE'S RECOMPENSE.
Her heart was light as human heart can be,
When blushingly she listened to the praise
Of him who talked of love in those sweet days
When first she kept a lover's company.
When blushingly she listened to the praise
Of him who talked of love in those sweet days
When first she kept a lover's company.
That was hope's spring-time; now its flowers are dead.
And she, grown tired of life before its close,
Weaves melancholy stories out of woes,
Across whose dismal threads her heart has bled.
And she, grown tired of life before its close,
Weaves melancholy stories out of woes,
Across whose dismal threads her heart has bled.
Yet even for such we need not quite despair
Since from our wrong God can bring forth his right;
And He, though all are precious in his sight,
Doth give the uncared-for his peculiar care.
Since from our wrong God can bring forth his right;
And He, though all are precious in his sight,
Doth give the uncared-for his peculiar care.
So, in the good life that shall follow this,
He, being love, may make her love to be
One golden thread, spun out eternally,
Through her white fingers, trembling with their bliss.
He, being love, may make her love to be
One golden thread, spun out eternally,
Through her white fingers, trembling with their bliss.
JEALOUSY.
I love my love so well, I would
There were no eyes but mine that could
See my sweet piece of womanhood,
And marvel of delight.
There were no eyes but mine that could
See my sweet piece of womanhood,
And marvel of delight.
I dread that even the sun should rise;
That bold, bright rover of the skies,
Who dares to touch her closèd eyes,
And put her dreams to flight.
That bold, bright rover of the skies,
Who dares to touch her closèd eyes,
And put her dreams to flight.
No maid could be more kind to me,
No truer maiden lives than she,
But yet I die of jealousy,
A thousand deaths in one.
No truer maiden lives than she,
But yet I die of jealousy,
A thousand deaths in one.
I cannot bear to see her stop,
With her soft hand a flower to crop;
I envy even the clover-top
Her dear foot treads upon.
With her soft hand a flower to crop;
I envy even the clover-top
Her dear foot treads upon.
How cruel in my sight to bless
Even her bird with the caress
Of fingers that I dare not press,—
Those lady fingers, white;
Even her bird with the caress
Of fingers that I dare not press,—
Those lady fingers, white;
That nestle oft in that dear place
Between her pillow and her face,
And, never asking leave or grace,
Caress her cheek at night!
Between her pillow and her face,
And, never asking leave or grace,
Caress her cheek at night!
'T is torture more than I can bear
To see the wanton summer air
Lift the bright tresses of her hair,
And careless let them fall.
To see the wanton summer air
Lift the bright tresses of her hair,
And careless let them fall.
The wind that through the roses slips,
And every sparkling dew-drop sips,
Without rebuke may kiss her lips,
The sweetest rose of all.
And every sparkling dew-drop sips,
Without rebuke may kiss her lips,
The sweetest rose of all.
I envy, on her neck of snow,
The white pearls hanging in a row,
The opals on her heart that glow
Flushed with a tender red.
The white pearls hanging in a row,
The opals on her heart that glow
Flushed with a tender red.
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I would not, in her chamber fair,
The curious stars should see her, where
I, even in thought, may scarcely dare
For reverence to tread.
The curious stars should see her, where
I, even in thought, may scarcely dare
For reverence to tread.
O maiden, hear and answer me
In kindness or in cruelty;
Tell me to live or let me die,
I cry, and cry again!
In kindness or in cruelty;
Tell me to live or let me die,
I cry, and cry again!
Give me to touch one golden tress,
Give me thy white hand to caress,
Give me thy red, red lips to press,
And ease my jealous pain!
Give me thy white hand to caress,
Give me thy red, red lips to press,
And ease my jealous pain!
SONG.
I see him part the careless throng,
I catch his eager eye;
He hurries towards me where I wait;—
Beat high, my heart, beat high!
I catch his eager eye;
He hurries towards me where I wait;—
Beat high, my heart, beat high!
I feel the glow upon my cheek,
And all my pulses thrill;
He sees me, passes careless by;—
Be still, my heart, be still!
And all my pulses thrill;
He sees me, passes careless by;—
Be still, my heart, be still!
He takes another hand than mine,
It trembles for his sake;
I see his joy, I feel my doom;—
Break, oh my heart-strings, break!
It trembles for his sake;
I see his joy, I feel my doom;—
Break, oh my heart-strings, break!
I CANNOT TELL.
Once, being charmèd by thy smile,
And listening to thy praises, such
As women, hearing all the while,
I think could never hear too much,—
And listening to thy praises, such
As women, hearing all the while,
I think could never hear too much,—
I had a pleasing fantasy
Of souls that meet, and meeting blend,
And hearing that same dream from thee,
I said I loved thee, O my friend!
Of souls that meet, and meeting blend,
And hearing that same dream from thee,
I said I loved thee, O my friend!
That was the flood-tide of my youth,
And now its calm waves backward flow;
I cannot tell if it were truth,
If what I feel be love, or no.
And now its calm waves backward flow;
I cannot tell if it were truth,
If what I feel be love, or no.
My days and nights pass pleasantly,
Serenely on my seasons glide,
And though I think and dream of thee,
I dream of many things beside.
Serenely on my seasons glide,
And though I think and dream of thee,
I dream of many things beside.
Most eagerly thy praise is sought,
'T is sweet to meet, and sad to part;
But all my best and deepest thought
Is hidden from thee in my heart.
'T is sweet to meet, and sad to part;
But all my best and deepest thought
Is hidden from thee in my heart.
And still the while a charm or spell
Half holds, and will not let me go;
'T is strange, and yet I cannot tell
If what I feel be love, or no!
Half holds, and will not let me go;
'T is strange, and yet I cannot tell
If what I feel be love, or no!
DEAD LOVE.
We are face to face, and between us here
Is the love we thought could never die;
Why has it only lived a year?
Who has murdered it—you or I?
Is the love we thought could never die;
Why has it only lived a year?
Who has murdered it—you or I?
No matter who—the deed was done
By one or both, and there it lies;
The smile from the lip forever gone,
And darkness over the beautiful eyes.
By one or both, and there it lies;
The smile from the lip forever gone,
And darkness over the beautiful eyes.
Our love is dead, and our hope is wrecked;
So what does it profit to talk and rave,
Whether it perished by my neglect,
Or whether your cruelty dug its grave!
So what does it profit to talk and rave,
Whether it perished by my neglect,
Or whether your cruelty dug its grave!
Why should you say that I am to blame,
Or why should I charge the sin on you?
Our work is before us all the same,
And the guilt of it lies between us two.
Or why should I charge the sin on you?
Our work is before us all the same,
And the guilt of it lies between us two.
We have praised our love for its beauty and grace;
Now we stand here, and hardly dare
To turn the face-cloth back from the face,
And see the thing that is hidden there.
Now we stand here, and hardly dare
To turn the face-cloth back from the face,
And see the thing that is hidden there.
Yet look! ah, that heart has beat its last,
And the beautiful life of our life is o'er,
And when we have buried and left the past,
We two, together, can walk no more.
And the beautiful life of our life is o'er,
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We two, together, can walk no more.
You might stretch yourself on the dead, and weep,
And pray as the Prophet prayed, in pain;
But not like him could you break the sleep,
And bring the soul to the clay again.
And pray as the Prophet prayed, in pain;
But not like him could you break the sleep,
And bring the soul to the clay again.
Its head in my bosom I can lay,
And shower my woe there, kiss on kiss,
But there never was resurrection-day
In the world for a love so dead as this
And shower my woe there, kiss on kiss,
But there never was resurrection-day
In the world for a love so dead as this
And, since we cannot lessen the sin
By mourning over the deed we did,
Let us draw the winding-sheet up to the chin,
Aye, up till the death-blind eyes are hid!
By mourning over the deed we did,
Let us draw the winding-sheet up to the chin,
Aye, up till the death-blind eyes are hid!
MY FRIEND.
O my friend, O my dearly belovèd!
Do you feel, do you know,
How the times and the seasons are going;
Are they weary and slow?
Does it seem to you long, in the heavens,
My true, tender mate,
Since here we were living together,
Where dying I wait?
'T is three years, as we count by the spring-times,
By the birth of the flowers,
What are years, aye! eternities even,
To love such as ours?
Side by side are we still, though a shadow
Between us doth fall;
We are parted, and yet are not parted,
Not wholly, and all.
For still you are round and about me,
Almost in my reach,
Though I miss the old pleasant communion
Of smile and of speech.
And I long to hear what you are seeing,
And what you have done,
Since the earth faded out from your vision,
And the heavens begun;
Since you dropped off the darkening fillet
Of clay from your sight,
And opened your eyes upon glory
Ineffably bright!
Though little my life has accomplished,
My poor hands have wrought;
I have lived what has seemed to be ages
In feeling and thought,
Since the time when our path grew so narrow,
So near the unknown,
That I turned back from following after,
And you went on alone.
For we speak of you cheerfully, always,
As journeying on;
Not as one who is dead do we name you;
We say, you are gone.
For how could we speak of you sadly,
We, who watched while the grace
Of eternity's wonderful beauty
Grew over your face!
Do you feel, do you know,
How the times and the seasons are going;
Are they weary and slow?
Does it seem to you long, in the heavens,
My true, tender mate,
Since here we were living together,
Where dying I wait?
'T is three years, as we count by the spring-times,
By the birth of the flowers,
What are years, aye! eternities even,
To love such as ours?
Side by side are we still, though a shadow
Between us doth fall;
We are parted, and yet are not parted,
Not wholly, and all.
For still you are round and about me,
Almost in my reach,
Though I miss the old pleasant communion
Of smile and of speech.
And I long to hear what you are seeing,
And what you have done,
Since the earth faded out from your vision,
And the heavens begun;
Since you dropped off the darkening fillet
Of clay from your sight,
And opened your eyes upon glory
Ineffably bright!
Though little my life has accomplished,
My poor hands have wrought;
I have lived what has seemed to be ages
In feeling and thought,
Since the time when our path grew so narrow,
So near the unknown,
That I turned back from following after,
And you went on alone.
For we speak of you cheerfully, always,
As journeying on;
Not as one who is dead do we name you;
We say, you are gone.
For how could we speak of you sadly,
We, who watched while the grace
Of eternity's wonderful beauty
Grew over your face!
Do we call the star lost that is hidden
In the great light of morn?
Or fashion a shroud for the young child
In the day it is born?
Yet behold this were wise to their folly,
Who mourn, sore distressed,
When a soul, that is summoned, believing,
Enters into its rest!
And for you, never any more sweetly
Went to rest, true and deep,
Since the first of our Lord's blessèd martyrs,
Having prayed, fell asleep.
In the great light of morn?
Or fashion a shroud for the young child
In the day it is born?
Yet behold this were wise to their folly,
Who mourn, sore distressed,
When a soul, that is summoned, believing,
Enters into its rest!
And for you, never any more sweetly
Went to rest, true and deep,
Since the first of our Lord's blessèd martyrs,
Having prayed, fell asleep.
What to you was the change, the transition,
When looking before,
You felt that the places which knew you
Should know you no more?
Did the soul rise exultant, ecstatic?
Did it cry, all is well?
What it was to the left and the loving
We only can tell.
'T was as if one took from us sweet roses
And we caught their last breath;
'T was like anything beautiful passing,—
It was not like death!
Like the flight of a bird, when still rising,
And singing aloud,
He goes towards the summer-time, over
The top of the cloud.
Now seen and now lost in the distance,
Borne up and along,
From the sight of the eyes that are watching
On a trail of sweet song.
As sometimes, in the midst of the blackness,
A great shining spark
Flames up from the wick of a candle,
Blown out in the dark;
So while we were watching and waiting,
'Twixt hoping and doubt,
The light of the soul flashed upon us,
When we thought it gone out.
And we scarce could believe it forever
Withdrawn from our sight,
When the cold lifeless ashes before us
Fell silent and white!
Ah! the strength of your love was so wondrous,
So great was its sway,
It forced back the spirit half-parted
Away from the clay;
In its dread of the great separation,
For not then did we know,
Love can never be left, O belovèd,
And never can go!
When looking before,
You felt that the places which knew you
Should know you no more?
Did the soul rise exultant, ecstatic?
Did it cry, all is well?
What it was to the left and the loving
We only can tell.
'T was as if one took from us sweet roses
And we caught their last breath;
'T was like anything beautiful passing,—
It was not like death!
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And singing aloud,
He goes towards the summer-time, over
The top of the cloud.
Now seen and now lost in the distance,
Borne up and along,
From the sight of the eyes that are watching
On a trail of sweet song.
As sometimes, in the midst of the blackness,
A great shining spark
Flames up from the wick of a candle,
Blown out in the dark;
So while we were watching and waiting,
'Twixt hoping and doubt,
The light of the soul flashed upon us,
When we thought it gone out.
And we scarce could believe it forever
Withdrawn from our sight,
When the cold lifeless ashes before us
Fell silent and white!
Ah! the strength of your love was so wondrous,
So great was its sway,
It forced back the spirit half-parted
Away from the clay;
In its dread of the great separation,
For not then did we know,
Love can never be left, O belovèd,
And never can go!
As when from some beautiful casement
Illumined at night,
While we steadfastly gaze on its brightness,
A hand takes the light;
And our eyes still transfixed by the splendor
Look earnestly on,
At the place where we lately beheld it,
Even when it has gone:
So we looked in your soul's darkening windows,
Those luminous eyes,
Till the light taken from them fell on us
From out of the skies!
Though you wore something earthly about you
That once we called you,
A robe all transparent, and brightened
By the soul shining through:
Yet when you had dropped it in going,
'T was but yours for a day,
Safe back in the bosom of nature
We laid it away.
Strewing over it odorous blossoms
Their perfume to shed,
But you never were buried beneath them,
And never were dead!
What we brought there and left for the darkness
Forever to hide,
Was but precious because you had worn it,
And put it aside.
As a garment might be, you had fashioned
In exquisite taste;
A book which your touch had made sacred,
A flower you had graced.
For all that was yours we hold precious,
We keep for your sake
Every relic our saint on her journey
Has not needed to take.
Illumined at night,
While we steadfastly gaze on its brightness,
A hand takes the light;
And our eyes still transfixed by the splendor
Look earnestly on,
At the place where we lately beheld it,
Even when it has gone:
So we looked in your soul's darkening windows,
Those luminous eyes,
Till the light taken from them fell on us
From out of the skies!
Though you wore something earthly about you
That once we called you,
A robe all transparent, and brightened
By the soul shining through:
Yet when you had dropped it in going,
'T was but yours for a day,
Safe back in the bosom of nature
We laid it away.
Strewing over it odorous blossoms
Their perfume to shed,
But you never were buried beneath them,
And never were dead!
What we brought there and left for the darkness
Forever to hide,
Was but precious because you had worn it,
And put it aside.
As a garment might be, you had fashioned
In exquisite taste;
A book which your touch had made sacred,
A flower you had graced.
For all that was yours we hold precious,
We keep for your sake
Every relic our saint on her journey
Has not needed to take.
Who that knew what your spirit, though fettered,
Aspired to, adored,
When as far as the body would loose it
It mounted and soared;
What soul in the world that had loved you,
Or known you aright,
Would look for you down in the darkness,
Not up in the light?
Why, the seed in the ground that we planted,
And left there to die,
Being quickened, breaks out of its prison,
And grows towards the sky.
The small fire that but slowly was kindled,
And feebly begun,
Gaining strength as it burns, flashes upward,
And mounts to the sun.
And could such a soul, free for ascending,
Could that luminous spark,
Blown to flame by the breath of Jehovah,
Go out in the dark?
Doth the bird stay behind when the window
Wide open is set?
Or, freed from the snare of the fowler,
Hasten back to his net?
And you pined in the flesh, being burdened
By its great weight of ills,
As a slave, who has tasted wild freedom,
Still pines for the hills.
And therefore it is that I seek you
In full, open day,
Where the universe stretches the farthest
From darkness away.
And think of you always as rising
And spurning the gloom;
All the width of infinity keeping
'Twixt yourself and the tomb!
Aspired to, adored,
When as far as the body would loose it
It mounted and soared;
What soul in the world that had loved you,
Or known you aright,
Would look for you down in the darkness,
Not up in the light?
Why, the seed in the ground that we planted,
And left there to die,
Being quickened, breaks out of its prison,
And grows towards the sky.
The small fire that but slowly was kindled,
And feebly begun,
Gaining strength as it burns, flashes upward,
And mounts to the sun.
And could such a soul, free for ascending,
Could that luminous spark,
Blown to flame by the breath of Jehovah,
Go out in the dark?
Doth the bird stay behind when the window
Wide open is set?
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Hasten back to his net?
And you pined in the flesh, being burdened
By its great weight of ills,
As a slave, who has tasted wild freedom,
Still pines for the hills.
And therefore it is that I seek you
In full, open day,
Where the universe stretches the farthest
From darkness away.
And think of you always as rising
And spurning the gloom;
All the width of infinity keeping
'Twixt yourself and the tomb!
Sometimes in white raiment I see you,
Treading higher and higher,
On the great sea of glass, ever shining,
And mingled with fire.
With the crown and the harp of the victor,
Exultant you stand;
And the melody drops, as if jewels
Dropped off from your hand.
You walk in that beautiful city,
Adorned as a bride,
Whose twelve gates of pearl are forever
Opened freely and wide.
Whose walls upon jasper foundations
Shall firmly endure;
Set with topaz, and beryl, and sapphire,
And amethyst pure.
You are where there is not any dying,
Any pain, any cries;
And God's hand has wiped softly forever,
The tears from your eyes:
For if spirits because of much loving
Come nearest the throne,
You must be with the saints and the children
Our Lord calls his own!
Treading higher and higher,
On the great sea of glass, ever shining,
And mingled with fire.
With the crown and the harp of the victor,
Exultant you stand;
And the melody drops, as if jewels
Dropped off from your hand.
You walk in that beautiful city,
Adorned as a bride,
Whose twelve gates of pearl are forever
Opened freely and wide.
Whose walls upon jasper foundations
Shall firmly endure;
Set with topaz, and beryl, and sapphire,
And amethyst pure.
You are where there is not any dying,
Any pain, any cries;
And God's hand has wiped softly forever,
The tears from your eyes:
For if spirits because of much loving
Come nearest the throne,
You must be with the saints and the children
Our Lord calls his own!
Sometimes you are led in green pastures,
The sweetest and best;
Sometimes as a lamb in the bosom
Of Jesus you rest.
Where you linger the spiciest odors
Of paradise blow,
And under your feet drifts of blossoms
Lie soft as the snow.
If you follow the life-giving river,
Or rest on its bank,
You are set round by troops of white lilies,
In rank after rank.
And the loveliest things, and the fairest,
That near you are seen
Seem as beautiful handmaids, who wait on
The step of a queen.
For always, wherever I see you,
Below or above,
I think all the good which surrounds you
Is born of your love.
And the best place is that where I find you,
The best thing what you do;
For you seem to have fashioned the heaven
That was fashioned for you!
The sweetest and best;
Sometimes as a lamb in the bosom
Of Jesus you rest.
Where you linger the spiciest odors
Of paradise blow,
And under your feet drifts of blossoms
Lie soft as the snow.
If you follow the life-giving river,
Or rest on its bank,
You are set round by troops of white lilies,
In rank after rank.
And the loveliest things, and the fairest,
That near you are seen
Seem as beautiful handmaids, who wait on
The step of a queen.
For always, wherever I see you,
Below or above,
I think all the good which surrounds you
Is born of your love.
And the best place is that where I find you,
The best thing what you do;
For you seem to have fashioned the heaven
That was fashioned for you!
But as from his essence and nature
Our God, ever blest,
Cannot do anything for his children
But that which is best;
And till He hath gathered them to Him,
In the heavens above,
Cannot joy over them as one singing,
Nor rest in his love;
So you, who have drawn from his goodness
Your portion of good,
Must help where your hand can be helpful,
Cannot rest if you would;
For you could not be happy in heaven,
By glory shut in,
While any soul whom you might comfort
Should suffer and sin.
So unto the heirs of salvation
Have you freely appeared;
And the earth by your sweet ministration
Is brightened and cheered.
Our God, ever blest,
Cannot do anything for his children
But that which is best;
And till He hath gathered them to Him,
In the heavens above,
Cannot joy over them as one singing,
Nor rest in his love;
So you, who have drawn from his goodness
Your portion of good,
Must help where your hand can be helpful,
Cannot rest if you would;
For you could not be happy in heaven,
By glory shut in,
While any soul whom you might comfort
Should suffer and sin.
So unto the heirs of salvation
Have you freely appeared;
And the earth by your sweet ministration
Is brightened and cheered.
I am sure you are near to the dying!
For often we mark
A smile on their faces, whose brightness
Lights the soul through the dark;
Sure, that you have for man in his direst
Necessity cared;
Preparing him then for whatever
The Lord hath prepared.
So, whenever you tenderly loosen
A hand from our grasp,
We feel, you can hold it and keep it
More safe in your clasp;
And that he, whose dear smile for a season
Our love must resign,
Gains the infinite comfort and sweetness
Of love such as thine.
For often we mark
A smile on their faces, whose brightness
Lights the soul through the dark;
Sure, that you have for man in his direst
Necessity cared;
Preparing him then for whatever
The Lord hath prepared.
So, whenever you tenderly loosen
A hand from our grasp,
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More safe in your clasp;
And that he, whose dear smile for a season
Our love must resign,
Gains the infinite comfort and sweetness
Of love such as thine.
Yea, lost mortal, immortal forever!
And saved evermore!
You revisit the world and the people,
That saw you of yore.
To the sorrowful house, to the death-room,
The prison and tomb,
You come, as on wings of the morning,
To scatter the gloom.
Wherever in desolate places
Earth's misery abides;
Wherever in dark habitations
Her cruelty hides;
If there the good seek for the wretched,
And lessen their woes,
Surely they are led on by the angels,
And you are of those.
And saved evermore!
You revisit the world and the people,
That saw you of yore.
To the sorrowful house, to the death-room,
The prison and tomb,
You come, as on wings of the morning,
To scatter the gloom.
Wherever in desolate places
Earth's misery abides;
Wherever in dark habitations
Her cruelty hides;
If there the good seek for the wretched,
And lessen their woes,
Surely they are led on by the angels,
And you are of those.
In the holds of oppression, where captives
Sit silent and weep,
Your face as the face of a seraph
Has shined in their sleep:
And your white hand away from the dungeon
His free step has led,
When the slave slipped his feet from the fetters,
And the man rose instead;
Free, at least in his dreams and his visions,
That one to behold,
Who walked through the billows of fire
With the faithful of old.
And what are the walls of the prison,
The rack and the rod,
To him, who in thought and in spirit,
Bows only to God?
If his doors are swung back by the angels
That visit his sleep—
If his singing ascend at the midnight,
Triumphant and deep;
He is freer than they who have bound him,
For his spirit may rise
And as far as infinity reaches
May travel the skies!
And who knows but the wide world of slumber
Is real as it seems?
God giveth them sleep, his belovèd,
And in sleep giveth dreams!
And happy are we if such visions
Our souls can receive;
If we sleep at the gateway of heaven,
And wake and believe.
If angels for us on that ladder
Ascend and descend,
Whose top reaches into the heavens,
With God at the end!
If our souls can raise up for a Bethel
E'en the great stone that lies
At the mouth of the sepulchre, hiding
Our dead from our eyes!
But alas! if our sight be withholden,
If faithless, bereft,
We stoop down, looking in at the grave-clothes
The Risen hath left;
And see not the face of the angel
All dazzling and white,
Who points us away from the darkness,
And up to the light!
And alas! when our Helper is passing,
If then we delay,
To cast off the hindering garments
And follow his way!
Sit silent and weep,
Your face as the face of a seraph
Has shined in their sleep:
And your white hand away from the dungeon
His free step has led,
When the slave slipped his feet from the fetters,
And the man rose instead;
Free, at least in his dreams and his visions,
That one to behold,
Who walked through the billows of fire
With the faithful of old.
And what are the walls of the prison,
The rack and the rod,
To him, who in thought and in spirit,
Bows only to God?
If his doors are swung back by the angels
That visit his sleep—
If his singing ascend at the midnight,
Triumphant and deep;
He is freer than they who have bound him,
For his spirit may rise
And as far as infinity reaches
May travel the skies!
And who knows but the wide world of slumber
Is real as it seems?
God giveth them sleep, his belovèd,
And in sleep giveth dreams!
And happy are we if such visions
Our souls can receive;
If we sleep at the gateway of heaven,
And wake and believe.
If angels for us on that ladder
Ascend and descend,
Whose top reaches into the heavens,
With God at the end!
If our souls can raise up for a Bethel
E'en the great stone that lies
At the mouth of the sepulchre, hiding
Our dead from our eyes!
But alas! if our sight be withholden,
If faithless, bereft,
We stoop down, looking in at the grave-clothes
The Risen hath left;
And see not the face of the angel
All dazzling and white,
Who points us away from the darkness,
And up to the light!
And alas! when our Helper is passing,
If then we delay,
To cast off the hindering garments
And follow his way!
Yet how blindly humanity gropeth,
While clad in this veil;
When we seek for the truths that are nearest,
How often we fail.
How little we learn of each other,
How little we teach;
How poorly the wisest interpret
The look and the speech!
Only that which in nearest communion
We give and receive,
That which spirit to spirit imparteth,
Can we know and believe.
Thus I know that you live, live forever,
Free from death, free from harms;
For in dreams of the night, and at noonday
Have you been in my arms!
And I know that, when I shall be like you,
We shall meet face to face;
That all souls, who are joined by affection,
Are joined by God's grace;
And that, O my dearly belovèd,
But the Father above,
Who made us and joined us can part us;
And He cannot for love.
While clad in this veil;
When we seek for the truths that are nearest,
How often we fail.
How little we learn of each other,
How little we teach;
How poorly the wisest interpret
The look and the speech!
Only that which in nearest communion
We give and receive,
That which spirit to spirit imparteth,
Can we know and believe.
Thus I know that you live, live forever,
Free from death, free from harms;
For in dreams of the night, and at noonday
Have you been in my arms!
And I know that, when I shall be like you,
We shall meet face to face;
That all souls, who are joined by affection,
Are joined by God's grace;
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But the Father above,
Who made us and joined us can part us;
And He cannot for love.
DREAMS AND REALITIES.
O Rosamond, thou fair and good,
And perfect flower of womanhood,
Thou royal rose of June,
Why didst thou droop before thy time?
Why wither in thy first sweet prime?
Why didst thou die so soon?
And perfect flower of womanhood,
Thou royal rose of June,
Why didst thou droop before thy time?
Why wither in thy first sweet prime?
Why didst thou die so soon?
For looking backward through my tears
On thee, and on my wasted years,
I cannot choose but say,
If thou hadst lived to be my guide,
Or thou hadst lived and I had died,
'T were better far to-day.
On thee, and on my wasted years,
I cannot choose but say,
If thou hadst lived to be my guide,
Or thou hadst lived and I had died,
'T were better far to-day.
O child of light, O golden head—
Bright sunbeam for one moment shed
Upon life's lonely way—
Why didst thou vanish from our sight?
Could they not spare my little light
From heaven's unclouded day?
Bright sunbeam for one moment shed
Upon life's lonely way—
Why didst thou vanish from our sight?
Could they not spare my little light
From heaven's unclouded day?
O friend so true, O friend so good—
Thou one dream of my maidenhood,
That gave youth all its charms—
What had I done, or what hadst thou,
That through this lonesome world till now
We walk with empty arms?
Thou one dream of my maidenhood,
That gave youth all its charms—
What had I done, or what hadst thou,
That through this lonesome world till now
We walk with empty arms?
And yet, had this poor soul been fed
With all it loved and coveted—
Had life been always fair—
Would these dear dreams that ne'er depart,
That thrill with bliss my inmost heart,
Forever tremble there?
With all it loved and coveted—
Had life been always fair—
Would these dear dreams that ne'er depart,
That thrill with bliss my inmost heart,
Forever tremble there?
If still they kept their earthly place,
The friends I held in my embrace,
And gave to death, alas!
Could I have learned that clear, calm faith
That looks beyond the bounds of death,
And almost longs to pass?
The friends I held in my embrace,
And gave to death, alas!
Could I have learned that clear, calm faith
That looks beyond the bounds of death,
And almost longs to pass?
Sometimes, I think, the things we see
Are shadows of the things to be;
That what we plan we build;
That every hope that hath been crossed,
And every dream we thought was lost,
In heaven shall be fulfilled;
Are shadows of the things to be;
That what we plan we build;
That every hope that hath been crossed,
And every dream we thought was lost,
In heaven shall be fulfilled;
That even the children of the brain
Have not been born and died in vain,
Though here unclothed and dumb;
But on some brighter, better shore
They live, embodied evermore,
And wait for us to come.
Have not been born and died in vain,
Though here unclothed and dumb;
But on some brighter, better shore
They live, embodied evermore,
And wait for us to come.
And when on that last day we rise,
Caught up between the earth and skies,
Then shall we hear our Lord
Say, “Thou hast done with doubt and death;
Henceforth, according to thy faith,
Shall be thy faith's reward.”
Caught up between the earth and skies,
Then shall we hear our Lord
Say, “Thou hast done with doubt and death;
Henceforth, according to thy faith,
Shall be thy faith's reward.”
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |