 | Poems |  |
60
FROM INEZ.
AN UNPUBLISHED POEM.
Alas! to me all beauty now is gloom—
All landscapes but dim precincts of thy tomb!
A weight sinks heart, and soul, and brain;
Old Sorrow sits in melancholy state
O'er ev'ry scene, where laughing Joy once sate.
False art thou! oh, false art thou, Joy—and vain!
All landscapes but dim precincts of thy tomb!
A weight sinks heart, and soul, and brain;
Old Sorrow sits in melancholy state
O'er ev'ry scene, where laughing Joy once sate.
False art thou! oh, false art thou, Joy—and vain!
The opening buds of spring would droop and die,
Touched by the breath of winter's freezing sigh,
His icy-cold and perilous caress;
E'en so, 'neath Disappointment's troubled sway,
Those cherished flowers have wept their lives away,
Young hope, and blossoming happiness!
Touched by the breath of winter's freezing sigh,
His icy-cold and perilous caress;
E'en so, 'neath Disappointment's troubled sway,
Those cherished flowers have wept their lives away,
Young hope, and blossoming happiness!
61
Beautiful art thou, hope of burning youth,
Touching all things with hues as bright as truth;
Painfully beautiful and bright thou art—
Since happiness, that ever-shooting star,
Seemingly near, but, ah! how coldly far!
Ne'er tracks thy fairy footsteps in the heart.
Touching all things with hues as bright as truth;
Painfully beautiful and bright thou art—
Since happiness, that ever-shooting star,
Seemingly near, but, ah! how coldly far!
Ne'er tracks thy fairy footsteps in the heart.
For me—some haunting shadows sway me still;
Through my worn heart some quickening tremours thrill,
Affection's phantoms, and her watchwords low!
Yet these but leave my soul more murk and dim,
When they, like bubbles from a goblet's brim,
To darkness and oblivion melt and flow.
Through my worn heart some quickening tremours thrill,
Affection's phantoms, and her watchwords low!
Yet these but leave my soul more murk and dim,
When they, like bubbles from a goblet's brim,
To darkness and oblivion melt and flow.
And spring's rich songs and bright triumphant blooms
But stir and wake my heart's deep, haunting glooms
Even unto mightier and more torturing life,
Since, O! beside a voiceless hearth I sit,
While forms familiar through the darkness flit,
Kindled by memory's wild creative strife.
But stir and wake my heart's deep, haunting glooms
Even unto mightier and more torturing life,
Since, O! beside a voiceless hearth I sit,
While forms familiar through the darkness flit,
Kindled by memory's wild creative strife.
62
My hope, my happiness, are wandering dreams,
Wild summer-lightnings, fitful meteor-gleams,
Things ever swift to part, to fade, to pass—
My hope hath been a long, long-troubled spring,
A stringless lute, a bird with broken wing—
My happiness—my happiness-alas!—
Wild summer-lightnings, fitful meteor-gleams,
Things ever swift to part, to fade, to pass—
My hope hath been a long, long-troubled spring,
A stringless lute, a bird with broken wing—
My happiness—my happiness-alas!—
But, be it so! My fainting heart, arise!
They left thee for their own sweet native skies—
There follow fearlessly—there find them thou!—
There, once united, ye shall never part;
Soar, then, like them away, my burning heart;
The crowning moment of long years be now!
They left thee for their own sweet native skies—
There follow fearlessly—there find them thou!—
There, once united, ye shall never part;
Soar, then, like them away, my burning heart;
The crowning moment of long years be now!
Sing, sing, ye young birds of the rushing spring;
Ye gorgeous clouds, your dazzling shadows fling,
As playfully and hurriedly ye float;
I have a precious music in my soul,
Bright heaven-girt dream-worlds through its stillness roll,
Linked with high worlds remote.
Ye gorgeous clouds, your dazzling shadows fling,
As playfully and hurriedly ye float;
I have a precious music in my soul,
Bright heaven-girt dream-worlds through its stillness roll,
Linked with high worlds remote.
63
Bloom, bloom, ye flowers of costly scent and hue;
Ye wandering winds, your trackless course pursue;
I envy not your beauty, nor your might!
Hope's amaranthine blooms shall glow, enshrined
Deep in my spirit, and my soaring mind
Shall pierce where wildest wind ne'er shaped its flight.
Ye wandering winds, your trackless course pursue;
I envy not your beauty, nor your might!
Hope's amaranthine blooms shall glow, enshrined
Deep in my spirit, and my soaring mind
Shall pierce where wildest wind ne'er shaped its flight.
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