 | The Poems of Mackenzie Bell |  |
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POEMS OF LOVE.
THE TWO TRYSTS.
Where tangled boughs of hazel cast
Deep shadows on their way,
A lingering youth and maiden stand
As dies the summer day;
Sweet is the air, and fragrant yet
With many a wayside flower;
Nature is joyous; yet their hearts
Are sad this twilight hour.
Deep shadows on their way,
A lingering youth and maiden stand
As dies the summer day;
Sweet is the air, and fragrant yet
With many a wayside flower;
Nature is joyous; yet their hearts
Are sad this twilight hour.
“How shall I bear to lose you, dear,”
The hapless lover cries;
“No more to see your face, nor find
The love-glow in your eyes?”
One kiss, one sob, and then they part,
And life is bitterness,
As through their tears each form beloved
Grows dimly less and less.
The hapless lover cries;
“No more to see your face, nor find
The love-glow in your eyes?”
One kiss, one sob, and then they part,
And life is bitterness,
As through their tears each form beloved
Grows dimly less and less.
Slow pass the lagging years; and now
They meet—they meet at last,
Each fairer in the other's eyes
For all their sorrow past:
Upon their way no shadows fall
On this fair morn of June;
When birds and happy bees rejoice,
And all the world's in tune.
They meet—they meet at last,
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For all their sorrow past:
Upon their way no shadows fall
On this fair morn of June;
When birds and happy bees rejoice,
And all the world's in tune.
THE HAWTHORN SPRAY.
Happy, with that strange happiness
Which Spring spreads o'er the land,
I see a girl, I see a boy,
They are walking hand in hand.
I hear them as they gaily talk,
They heed no future care,
He plucks a flushing hawthorn spray
To deck her fairer hair.
Which Spring spreads o'er the land,
I see a girl, I see a boy,
They are walking hand in hand.
I hear them as they gaily talk,
They heed no future care,
He plucks a flushing hawthorn spray
To deck her fairer hair.
“And let this be a token now,”
The merry boy exclaims,
“That, some time in the coming years,
We two may link our names.
The may-buds are a symbol meet
Of this our treaty pure,
So may our compact bring us joy
And evermore endure.”
The merry boy exclaims,
“That, some time in the coming years,
We two may link our names.
The may-buds are a symbol meet
Of this our treaty pure,
So may our compact bring us joy
And evermore endure.”
These two—though many years have fled—
Fled like a dream away,
Are still as true of heart as on
That unforgotten day.
And so together oft again
Amid the spring-tide's glow
They walk, remembering thankfully
Their love-pledge long ago.
Fled like a dream away,
Are still as true of heart as on
That unforgotten day.
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Amid the spring-tide's glow
They walk, remembering thankfully
Their love-pledge long ago.
SPRING'S IMMORTALITY.
The buds awake at touch of Spring
From Winter's joyless dream;
From many a stone the ouzels sing
By yonder mossy stream.
From Winter's joyless dream;
From many a stone the ouzels sing
By yonder mossy stream.
The cuckoo's voice, from copse and vale,
Lingers, as if to meet
The music of the nightingale
Across the rising wheat—
Lingers, as if to meet
The music of the nightingale
Across the rising wheat—
The bird whom ancient Solitude
Hath kept for ever young,
Unaltered since in studious mood
Calm Milton mused and sung.
Hath kept for ever young,
Unaltered since in studious mood
Calm Milton mused and sung.
Ah, strange it is, dear heart, to know
Spring's gladsome mystery
Was sweet to lovers long ago—
Most sweet to such as we—
Spring's gladsome mystery
Was sweet to lovers long ago—
Most sweet to such as we—
That fresh new leaves and meadow flowers
Bloomed when the south wind came;
While hands of Spring caressed the bowers,
The throstle sang the same.
Bloomed when the south wind came;
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The throstle sang the same.
Unchanged, unchanged the throstle's song,
Unchanged Spring's answering breath,
Unchanged, though cruel Time was strong,
And stilled our love in death.
Unchanged Spring's answering breath,
Unchanged, though cruel Time was strong,
And stilled our love in death.
A MUSICIAN'S WIFE TO HER HUSBAND.
As rain each fainting flower revives
Which droops at close of day,
Thy music cheers my soul, and drives
Its weariness away.
Which droops at close of day,
Thy music cheers my soul, and drives
Its weariness away.
Then play to me to-night, my love,
Some sweet pathetic air,
To raise my burthened soul above
This woeful world of care.
Some sweet pathetic air,
To raise my burthened soul above
This woeful world of care.
For when the player's heart is found
Responsive to mine own,
It seems as if the very sound
Were sweeter in its tone.
Responsive to mine own,
It seems as if the very sound
Were sweeter in its tone.
Then play to me; and make me glad;
And banish all my fear,
What though the world be cold and sad;
Still thou, “my life,” art here!
And banish all my fear,
What though the world be cold and sad;
Still thou, “my life,” art here!
117
REMONSTRANCE.
'Twas here, when last we met, you promised me
That on this spot, and on a certain day,
Once more we should embrace and kiss: yet see
Still, still you stay.
That on this spot, and on a certain day,
Once more we should embrace and kiss: yet see
Still, still you stay.
Ah, if you knew the yearning of my heart
And all its grief, love, when you are away,
And saw how oftentimes the tear-drops start,
You would not stay.
And all its grief, love, when you are away,
And saw how oftentimes the tear-drops start,
You would not stay.
Like some faint scent of flowers borne on the air,
Dispelling languor during Summer's sway,
Your coming, dearest, soon dispels my care—
Then wherefore stay?
Dispelling languor during Summer's sway,
Your coming, dearest, soon dispels my care—
Then wherefore stay?
Come now, my darling, come, as erst of yore,—
A touch of your soft hand will make me gay,
Light with your smile my dark path as before,
Nor longer stay.
A touch of your soft hand will make me gay,
Light with your smile my dark path as before,
Nor longer stay.
THE BRIDE'S SONG.
A few days more, a few days more,
And all the world will change!
For I shall enter through Love's door
To something sweet yet strange—
To that new home where comes no fear
Unshared by him I love—
And I shall always, always hear
His voice where'er I rove.
And all the world will change!
For I shall enter through Love's door
To something sweet yet strange—
To that new home where comes no fear
Unshared by him I love—
And I shall always, always hear
His voice where'er I rove.
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Ah then, ah then, my duty lies
With him, and him alone,
Less duty than delight, surprise,
To me before unknown—
Delight that I am ever nigh
To do each fond behest,
Surprise that I, and only I,
Can make his life more blest.
With him, and him alone,
Less duty than delight, surprise,
To me before unknown—
Delight that I am ever nigh
To do each fond behest,
Surprise that I, and only I,
Can make his life more blest.
Oft does he praise my sunny hair,
The bloom upon my cheeks—
Would that I were indeed so fair
When thus my dear one speaks.
I feel myself unworthy, yet
He takes me for his wife,
But I will yield—to pay my debt—
The service of my life.
The bloom upon my cheeks—
Would that I were indeed so fair
When thus my dear one speaks.
I feel myself unworthy, yet
He takes me for his wife,
But I will yield—to pay my debt—
The service of my life.
TO ------
(A Summer Evening in the Woods.)
I
How lovely are the woodland glades to-night,The boughs slow moving in the balmy air,
As birds sing now and then from pure delight
With melody low-pitched, though scarce aware
They sing. The branches, erewhile gaunt and bare,
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A dreamy revel, murmuring everywhere;
In these dear glades, so still, so dim, so deep,
Save for these lulling sounds kind Nature seems to sleep.
II
The voiceless stars shine out, and all too soonThe calm delicious summer twilight ends;
Yet but a little space, and lo! the moon
Has ris'n, and thence a flood of light descends,
While she among the clouds, majestic, wends
Her queen-like way; obsequious stand they near,
Like courtiers round a throne; each object lends
Fresh beauty to the landscape made so clear
In this rare light that all its richer hues are here.
III
Now in this evening walk there lives anewThat joyous summer evening long ago,
Sweet as to-night, when first I walked with you—
When, as the westering sun was sinking low,
I first knew all your love for me; and so
Each year since then more swiftly than the last
Has gone, for Time but made our love to grow.
Yes, while the years are hurrying to the past,
My one regret it is that still they fly so fast.
120
“WHILE THE SUNSET, SLOWLY DYING.”
While the sunset, slowly dying,
Sheds a light o'er sea and strand,
And the night-chilled breeze is sighing
As the darkness wraps the land—
Come, with influence strong yet tender,
Mingled thoughts of vanished years,
Waking soul-thrills that can render
Sometimes joy and sometimes tears.
All the past, returning, seems
Present with its living dreams.
Sheds a light o'er sea and strand,
And the night-chilled breeze is sighing
As the darkness wraps the land—
Come, with influence strong yet tender,
Mingled thoughts of vanished years,
Waking soul-thrills that can render
Sometimes joy and sometimes tears.
All the past, returning, seems
Present with its living dreams.
When the kindly summer's glory
Filled the earth with myriad charms,
First I breathed a lover's story—
First I felt true love's alarms—
First I pleaded with a maiden,
Hazel-eyed, and pure, and fair
As that eve whose gales love-laden
Wantoned with her auburn hair.
All the past, returning, seems
Present with its living dreams.
Filled the earth with myriad charms,
First I breathed a lover's story—
First I felt true love's alarms—
First I pleaded with a maiden,
Hazel-eyed, and pure, and fair
As that eve whose gales love-laden
Wantoned with her auburn hair.
All the past, returning, seems
Present with its living dreams.
Now to me how swiftly thronging
Come the visions of the past—
Treasured past to me belonging—
Span of bliss too deep to last:
Still do I remember clearly
What I asked in trembling tone,
And her words, “I love you dearly,
Yours I am, and yours alone.”
All the past, returning, seems
Present with its living dreams.
Come the visions of the past—
Treasured past to me belonging—
Span of bliss too deep to last:
Still do I remember clearly
What I asked in trembling tone,
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Yours I am, and yours alone.”
All the past, returning, seems
Present with its living dreams.
We were “wedded, happy-hearted,”
And our future path seemed bright,
Who could tell we should be parted,
Love's glad sun obscured in night?
Yet one eve, when softly sighing
Summer breezes lulled the rose,
I beheld her, fainting, dying,
I beheld her dim eyes close.
Ah, how living, fraught with woe,
Rise the sights of long ago!
And our future path seemed bright,
Who could tell we should be parted,
Love's glad sun obscured in night?
Yet one eve, when softly sighing
Summer breezes lulled the rose,
I beheld her, fainting, dying,
I beheld her dim eyes close.
Ah, how living, fraught with woe,
Rise the sights of long ago!
Yet amid my sore dejection
Comes the comfort ever new—
Comes the balm, the sweet reflection,
To each other we were true.
For some end God sendeth sorrow,
When that end is gained at last,
In the radiant heavenly morrow
We shall meet—all sorrow past.
There, no longer fraught with woe,
Rise the days of long ago.
Comes the comfort ever new—
Comes the balm, the sweet reflection,
To each other we were true.
For some end God sendeth sorrow,
When that end is gained at last,
In the radiant heavenly morrow
We shall meet—all sorrow past.
There, no longer fraught with woe,
Rise the days of long ago.
122
THROUGH MISTS OF YEARS.
Ofttimes arise through mists of years,
In hours of gentle sadness,
Dreams of a face once seen with tears,
Whose smile was then my gladness!
Like, yet unlike, the light that guides
The storm-tossed o'er the ocean,
Deep in my soul that face abides,
Cherished with true devotion.
In hours of gentle sadness,
Dreams of a face once seen with tears,
Whose smile was then my gladness!
Like, yet unlike, the light that guides
The storm-tossed o'er the ocean,
Deep in my soul that face abides,
Cherished with true devotion.
Such moments come to soothe and bless,
To touch with gleams of glory,
Drawn from a by-gone happiness,
Life's sometime dreary story.
So well it is when lonely lies
Life's pathway girt with sorrow,
That this dear vision should arise,
Which from the past I borrow.
To touch with gleams of glory,
Drawn from a by-gone happiness,
Life's sometime dreary story.
So well it is when lonely lies
Life's pathway girt with sorrow,
That this dear vision should arise,
Which from the past I borrow.
| The Poems of Mackenzie Bell | |