 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
130
“THE HEAVEN WAS CLOUDLESS.”
The heaven was cloudless, the ocean was calm,
For the breeze which blew o'er it scarce ruffled its breast;
Not a sight, not a sound, that might waken alarm,
Could the eye or the ear of the wanderer molest.
For the breeze which blew o'er it scarce ruffled its breast;
Not a sight, not a sound, that might waken alarm,
Could the eye or the ear of the wanderer molest.
As I roam'd on the beach, to my memory rose
The bliss I had tasted in moments gone by;
When my soul could rejoice in a scene of repose,
And my spirit exult in an unclouded sky.
The bliss I had tasted in moments gone by;
When my soul could rejoice in a scene of repose,
And my spirit exult in an unclouded sky.
I thought of the past; and while thinking, thy name
Came uncall'd to my lips, but no language it found;
Yet my heart felt how dear, and how hallow'd its claim
I could think, though my tongue dar'd not utter a sound.
Came uncall'd to my lips, but no language it found;
Yet my heart felt how dear, and how hallow'd its claim
I could think, though my tongue dar'd not utter a sound.
131
I did not forget how with thee I had paced
On the shore I now trod, and how pleasant it seem'd;
How my eye then sought thine, and how gladly it traced
Every glance of affection which mildly it beam'd.
On the shore I now trod, and how pleasant it seem'd;
How my eye then sought thine, and how gladly it traced
Every glance of affection which mildly it beam'd.
The beginning and end of our loves were before me;
And both touch'd a chord of the tenderest tone;
For thy spirit, then near, shed its influence o'er me,
And told me that still thou wert truly my own.
And both touch'd a chord of the tenderest tone;
For thy spirit, then near, shed its influence o'er me,
And told me that still thou wert truly my own.
Yes, I thought at the moment, (how dear was the thought!)
That there still was a union which death could not break;
And if with some sorrow the feeling was fraught,
Yet even that sorrow was sweet for thy sake.
That there still was a union which death could not break;
And if with some sorrow the feeling was fraught,
Yet even that sorrow was sweet for thy sake.
Thus musing on thee, every object around
Seem'd to borrow thy sweetness to make itself dear;
Each murmuring wave reach'd the shore with a sound
As soft as the tone of thy voice to my ear.
Seem'd to borrow thy sweetness to make itself dear;
Each murmuring wave reach'd the shore with a sound
As soft as the tone of thy voice to my ear.
132
The lights and the shades on the surface of ocean
Seem'd to give back the glimpses of feeling and grace,
Which once so expressively told each emotion
Of thy innocent heart, as I gaz'd on thy face.
Seem'd to give back the glimpses of feeling and grace,
Which once so expressively told each emotion
Of thy innocent heart, as I gaz'd on thy face.
And, when I look'd up to the beautiful sky,
So cloudless and calm; oh! it harmoniz'd well
With the gentle expression which spoke in that eye,
Ere the curtain of death on its loveliness fell!
So cloudless and calm; oh! it harmoniz'd well
With the gentle expression which spoke in that eye,
Ere the curtain of death on its loveliness fell!
How proud is the prize which thy virtues have won,
When their memory alone is so precious to me,
That this world cannot give, what my soul would not shun,
If it tore from my breast the remembrance of thee!
When their memory alone is so precious to me,
That this world cannot give, what my soul would not shun,
If it tore from my breast the remembrance of thee!
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |