 | Reverberations |  |
110
OLD FEELINGS.
Once in my childish days I heard
A woman's voice that slowly read,
How 'twixt two shadowy mountains sped
Four coloured steeds, four chariots whirred.
A woman's voice that slowly read,
How 'twixt two shadowy mountains sped
Four coloured steeds, four chariots whirred.
Written in 1840, this poem expressed my sympathy with the ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-sheltered industrial population of our own country before the repeal of the Corn Laws. It appeared in some newspaper, and was noticed, I think, by the London Spectator. A Conservative friend, ignorant of the authorship, attributed it to an “inspired weaver.” When in 1843 I commenced my ministrations among the poor of an agricultural parish in the West of England, seven or eight shillings a week was the usual remuneration received by a labouring man.
I watched until she laid the book
On the white casement-ledge again;
My heart beat high with joyful pain
On that strange oracle to look.
On the white casement-ledge again;
My heart beat high with joyful pain
On that strange oracle to look.
Day after day I would ascend
The staircase in that large old house,
And still and timorous as a mouse,
I sat and made that book my friend.
The staircase in that large old house,
And still and timorous as a mouse,
I sat and made that book my friend.
I saw the birth of seas and skies,
The first sweet woman, first fair man;
I saw how morning light began,
How faded, over Paradise.
The first sweet woman, first fair man;
I saw how morning light began,
How faded, over Paradise.
111
I stood with the first Arab boy;
I saw the mother and the child
Of Oriental vision wild,
Laugh by the well for utter joy.
I saw the mother and the child
Of Oriental vision wild,
Laugh by the well for utter joy.
I saw a youth go forth at morn,
A traveller to the Syrian land,
And in the lonely evening stand
An exile weary and forlorn.
A traveller to the Syrian land,
And in the lonely evening stand
An exile weary and forlorn.
I saw him by the roadside lay
His sunken head upon a stone,
And while he slumbered, still and lone,
A dream fell on him fair as day.
His sunken head upon a stone,
And while he slumbered, still and lone,
A dream fell on him fair as day.
I saw a golden ladder reach
From earth to heaven among the stars,
And up and down its gleaming bars
Trod stately angels, without speech.
From earth to heaven among the stars,
And up and down its gleaming bars
Trod stately angels, without speech.
What wonders did I not behold!
Dark gorgeous women, turbaned men,
White tents, like ships, in plain and glen,
Slaves, palm-trees, camels, pearls, and gold.
Dark gorgeous women, turbaned men,
White tents, like ships, in plain and glen,
Slaves, palm-trees, camels, pearls, and gold.
Ah! many an hour I sat and read,
And God seemed with me all day long;
Joy murmured a sweet undersong,
I talked with angels, with them fed.
And God seemed with me all day long;
Joy murmured a sweet undersong,
I talked with angels, with them fed.
112
It was an old deserted room;
There was a skylight arched above,
And the blue heaven looked through like love,
Softening and colouring mortal gloom.
There was a skylight arched above,
And the blue heaven looked through like love,
Softening and colouring mortal gloom.
No playmate had I, knew no game,
Yet sometimes left my book to run
And blow bright bubbles in the sun;
In after-life we do the same!
Yet sometimes left my book to run
And blow bright bubbles in the sun;
In after-life we do the same!
That time is gone; you think me weak
That I regret that perished time,
That I recall my golden prime
With beating heart and blushing cheek.
That I regret that perished time,
That I recall my golden prime
With beating heart and blushing cheek.
That time is gone: I live for truth,
Glad to resign each rainbow sham;
But still, remembering what I am,
I praise my sweet and saintly youth.
Glad to resign each rainbow sham;
But still, remembering what I am,
I praise my sweet and saintly youth.
So great a hope made truce with fear,
My joy and wonder were so strong,
So rare and delicate a song
Young Life was singing in mine ear!
My joy and wonder were so strong,
So rare and delicate a song
Young Life was singing in mine ear!
I therefore still in fancy climb
Up to that old and faded room,
Where feelings like fresh roses bloom
Over the grave of that fair time.
Up to that old and faded room,
Where feelings like fresh roses bloom
Over the grave of that fair time.
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