My Lyrical Life :: :: University of Virginia Library

Spring comes with violet eyes unveiled,
Her fragrant lips apart!
And Earth smiles up as though she held
Most honeyed thoughts at heart.
But nevermore will Spring arise
Dancing in sparkles of her eyes.

A gracious wind low-breathing comes
As from the fields of God;
The old lost Eden newly blooms
From out the sunny sod.
My buried joy stirs with the earth,
And tries to sun its sweetness forth.

The Trees move in their slumbering,
Dreaming of one that's near!
Put out their feelers for the Spring,
To wake, and find her here!

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My spirit on the threshold stands,
And stretches out its waiting hands;

Then goeth from me in a stream
Of yearning; wave on wave
Slides through the stillness of a dream,
To little Marian's grave:
For all the miracle of Spring
My long lost Child will never bring.

Where blooms the golden crocus-burst,
And Winter's tenderling,
There lies our little Snowdrop,—first
Of Flowers in our love's spring!
How all the year's young beauties blow
About her there, I know, I know.

The Blackbird with his warble wet,
The Thrush with reedy thrill,
Open their hearts to Heav'n, and let
The influence have its will!
Though all around the Spring hath smiled,
She seems to have kissed where lies my child.

In purple shadow and golden shine
Old Arthur's Seat is crowned;
Like shapes of Silence crystalline
The great white clouds sail round!
The Dead at rest the long day through
Lie calm against the pictured blue.

At shut of Eve the stars may peep,
But still there comes no night;
Only the Day hath fallen asleep,
And smiles in dreams of light:

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As though she felt the heart of Love
Beat on in silent stars above.

O Marian, my maid Marian,
So strange it seems to me!
That you, the Household's darling one,
So soon should cease to be.
Ah, was it that our praying breath
Might kindle heavenward fires of faith?

So much forgiven for your sake
When bitter words were said,
And little arms about the neck
With blessings bowed the head!
So happy as we might have been,
Our hearts more close with you between.

Dear early Dew-drop! such a gleam
Of sun from heaven you drew,
We little thought that smiling beam
Would drink the precious dew!
But back to heaven our dew was kissed,
We saw it pass in mournful mist.

Our lowly home was lofty-crowned
With three sweet budding girls!
Our Marriage-ring was wreathen round
With darling wee love-pearls!
One jewel from the ring is gone,
One fills a grave in Warriston.

We bore her beauty in our breast,
As heaven bears the Dawn,
We brooded over her dear nest,
Still close and closer drawn.

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Hearts thrilled and listened, watched and throbbed,
And strayed not,—yet the nest was robbed.

“Stay yet a little while, Beloved!”
In vain our prayerful breath:
Across heaven's lighted window moved
The shadow of black Death.
In vain our hands were stretched to save;
There closed the gateways of the Grave!

Could my death-vision have darkened up
In her sweet face, my child;
I scarce should see the bitter cup
I could have drunk and smiled:
Blessing her with my last-wrung breath,
Dear Angel in my dream of death.

Her memory is like music we
Have heard some singer sing,
That thrills life through, and echoingly
Our hearts forever ring;
We try it o'er and o'er again,
But ne'er recall that wondrous strain.

My proud heart like a river runs,
Lying awake o' nights;
I see her with the shining Ones
Upon the shining heights.
And a wee Angel-face will peep
Down starlike through the veil of sleep.

My yearnings try to get them wings
And float me up afar,
As in the Dawn the Skylark springs
To reach some distant Star

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That all night long swam down to him
In brightness, but at morn grew dim.

She is a spirit of light that leavens
The darkness where we wait;
And starlike opens in the heavens
A little golden gate!
O may we wake and find her near
When work and sleep are over here!

No sweetness to this world of ours
Is without purpose given,
The fragrance that goes up from flowers
May be their seed in Heaven.
We saw Heaven in her face, may we
Her future face in Heaven see.

In some far spring of brighter bloom,
More life, and ampler breath,
My bud hath burst the folding gloom,
A-flower from dusty death!
We wonder will she be much grown?
And how will her new name be known?

I saw her ribboned robe this morn,
Mine own lost little child;
Wee shoes her tiny feet had worn,
And then my heart grew wild.
We only trust ourselves to peep
In on them when we want to weep.

But hearts will break or eyes must weep,
And so we bend above
These treasures of old days that keep
The fragrance of young love.

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The harvest-field though reaped and bare
Still hath two patient gleaners there.

I never think of her sweet eyes
In dusky death now dim,
But waters of my heart will rise,
And there they smile and swim,
Forget-me-nots so blue, so dear,
Swim in the waters of a tear.

How often in the days gone by
She lifted her dear head,
And stretched wee arms for me to lie
Down in her little bed;
And cradled in my happy breast
Was softly carried into rest.

And now when life is sore oppressed
And runs with weary wave,
I long to lay me down and rest
In little Marian's grave:
To smile as peaceful as she smiled—
For I am now the nestling child.

Immortal Love, a spirit of bliss
And brightness, moves above,
While here forever Sorrow is
A shadow cast by Love.
But love for her no sorrow will bring
And no more tearful leaves-taking.

No passing sorrows on their march
Will leave sad foot-prints now,
No troubles strain the tender arch
Of that white baby brow.

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No cares to cloud, no tears that come
To rob the cheek of dainty bloom.

All sweetest shapes that Beauty wears
Are round about her drawn;
Auroral hues, and vernal airs,
And blessings of the dawn;
All loveliness that ne'er grows less;
Time cannot touch her tenderness.

The patient calm that comes with years,
Hath made us cease to fret,
Though sometimes in the sudden tears
Dumb hearts will quiver yet:
And each one turns the face, and tries
To hide Who looks through parent eyes.