University of Virginia Library

BONDS OF UNION.

I sate in that sweet bower apart—alone,
'Twas spring-time, and the season was made known
By voices, music-voices in the woods—
That might have soothed a cynic's crabbed moods—
Charmed wild despair and won it unto peace,
And bade the fury of the wrathful cease—
By bloom upon the dyed and gleaming ground,
And vernal freshness ev'rywhere around.
But close at hand with its deep awful gloom,
Was a stern place of silence and the tomb—
Spring smiled too there—each blade of grass appeared
Fresher and fairer, as she gently cleared
The darkness from the face of Earth away,
And lent her smile and blush to glowing day.
Then came those old thoughts on my saddened Mind,
Which millions have revolved before—not blind
To those deep startling contrasts that are found
For ever on this checquered mortal ground!
Wreathed coils of meaning—contradictions strange,
Which vex the mind with a perpetual change,—
Which still seem woven with all things below,—
Whate'er we meet, or mark, or find, or know!—
Who ever stood beside a silent grave,
In that sweet time when boughs new leafing wave,
And flowers their course of beauty have begun—
The innocent worshippers of the orient Sun,
And birds are filling all the echoing air
With that pure music, ever rich and rare,
Beyond all cunning instruments' wrought strains,
Though framed with curious skill and artful pains—
Who ever stood beside a silent tomb,
In that sweet season of gay song and bloom,
Nor felt the mystery of our Life and Death
Chilling his blood and choaking up his breath?
The fresh glad face of Nature, bright and fair,
Without a shade of gloom or trouble there!
Beneath—the darkness of the dread decay—
Nature still fixed—Man passing still away!
Oh! these are things that ever smite the Mind,
Appealing to the hearts of all Mankind!
Perchance 'twas purposed these should strongly be
The alarums of the general sympathy!
These few strange startling truths that wake in all
Accordant answers to their fearful call!—
For startling truths—awe-striking things alone,
With voice of terror and unearthly tone,
Can pierce that apathy of dull repose,
Which mails our hearts, where still it spreads and grows;
Till on the sudden thus 'tis rent away,
And they the influence and the call obey.
And, Oh! these things whose universal thrall,
Whose general influence is confessed by all,
Together draw us, and must ever be
The watchwords of the general sympathy;
And this is good for man—to love, to feel,
To break inveterate Selfishness' cold seal,
To wake from dull Indifference, and to own
Man is not here on this fair Earth alone!
We think old thoughts, we feel old feelings still,
And tread but in old paths, through good and ill,
A touching bond of union evermore,
With us and all that have gone on before—
We think the thoughts of others, and we feel
The feelings too of others, grief or zeal,
Or doubt, hope, joy, or wonder, which e'en now
Thousands around us—millions must avow.
And blessed are those things which deepliest wake
The accordant sympathies—for Love's high sake—
Blessed the things which cause old thoughts to spring,
Old common thoughts, that with their presence bring
A tenderer Charity for all our kind,
A sense of holier love—in heart and mind.
Bless'd be those things, though mournful they may be,
Which kindle the universal sympathy.