Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

“He gave her therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an arrow, sharpened with love, let easily into her heart: —so Christiana knew that her time was come.”

Not like the rulers of our vanities
At earthly feasts, art Thou, O Love Divine;
These pour their best at first, and still decline
At each full-flowing draught, till only lees
Of bitterness remain, but Thou dost please
To keep unto the last Thy richest wine.

And now, this grace-cup, crowned with flowers, o'erflows
To meet my lips, the music never fell
More sweet, yet from the banquet, ere its close,
I rise to bid the company farewell;
I see no sign, I hear no warning bell,
No airy tongue my Summoner hath been,
Yet all my soul by cords invisible
Is drawn the surer unto One unseen;

For oh, my Father! whom I have desired
By night, and sought for early, not through Man

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Or Angel have I at thy voice inquired
Since first my solemn quest for Thee began;
Thee, only Thee my spirit hath required
For Teacher and for Counsellor and Friend;
So now Thou needest me, Thou dost not send
By any other, but within the shade
Thy awful Presence makes, ere yet the fall
Of evening darkens, I can hear Thee call,
“Come home, my child!” and I am not afraid;
Though oft Thou showedst me a brow austere,
And oft thy lessons hard to understand
Were grievous to me, now Thou drawest near
I see Thy smile,

“Rabia, a devout Arabian woman, being asked in her last illness, how she endured the extremity of her sufferings, made answer, ‘They who look upon God's face do not feel his hand.’” —Milne's Palm Leaves.

I do not feel Thy hand.

And He, our Brother kind,
Wounded and grieved by us, yet waiting where
He passed before our Mansions to prepare,
Made himself strange at first; I did not find
An instant welcome; oft with speech severe
He questioned me, and oft methought his ear
Was turned away, but now I feel his tear
Upon my cheek, his kiss upon my soul;
He biddeth all withdraw, while with His Own
He talketh: “How is this, Thou hast not known
Thy Brother? I am Joseph,”—now no more
Doth Love refrain itself because its goal
Is well-nigh won, and all its trial sore
O'erpast, it leaveth with a brow serene
The secret Chamber where so oft unseen
It wept before;

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For ofttimes Love must grieve;
For us content and willing to be sad,
It left the Halls wherein they made it glad
And came to us that grieved it! oft below
It hides its face because it will not show
The stain upon it! now I feel its clear
Full shining eyes upon me, and I know
Soon I shall meet the kiss without the tear!

For all my life grows sweet,
I know not how to name it; from behind
Comes up a murmur voluble and fleet
Of mingling voices, some were harsh, some kind,
But all are turned to gentleness, the wind
That bears them onwards hath so soft a wing,
As if it were a Dove unused to bring
Aught but a loving message; so Earth sends
One only question on it from the track
Where I have passed, “Friends, friends? we part as friends?”
And all my soul takes up and sendeth back
One word for echo and for answer, “Friends.”

And, oh, how fair this Earth
I leave!—methinks of old I never took
Account of half its loveliness and worth;
Yea! oft I mourned because I could not look
More deep within the pages of this Book,
God's glorious Book shut in between the eves
And glowing morns, I read betwixt the leaves

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Like one that passes hastily, and failed
To catch its import, yet hath One prevailed
To loose its golden clasps, and on her knee
He biddeth Nature lift me tenderly
And read thereout her Fairy tales, and tell
Where lie her treasures guarded with a spell.
She takes me to her heart, she will not hold
A secret from me now! things new and old
She brings to please me. Yet, as if she knew—
A loving nurse—that soon her child must sleep,
And waken in a land where all things keep
Their first simplicity—she doth renew
Her forms that charmed me earliest;

With the dew
Still hanging round them, well I know these flowers
She holds before me; through the noon-tide hours
I looked not on their hues; they did not burst
To gorgeous life, like some that I have nursed,
Shut from the ruder air, until they caught
Through each broad leaf a colouring of thought,
And spake a symbol-language too intense,
The while each lamp-lit urn
Did glow and spread and burn
Its heart away in odours, till the sense
Waxed faint through fragrance; not like these of bold
Magnificence, nor dearer flowers that grew
Familiar by my path, with whom of old
I talked so secretly, it seemed we drew

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A common breath, until methought they took
A human aspect, and like friends that know
Too much the heart's deep history, their look
Hath oft-times troubled me;

But these did blow
For me in meadows wide, ere yet I knew
That flowers were charactered with joy or grief;
Ye hid no secret in your folded leaf,—
Flowers innocent and cool
That hung above the pool,
Or thrid with gold the pleasant pastures through;
I learnt no “Ai, Ai,” in your school,
Quaint orchis, speedwells blue,
And slender cups that grew
Deep in the woods, pale purple-veined and brimming o'er with dew!

I see the quiet glade
Slope sunward, shut among its hills that lie
With light upon their brows; I hear the cry
Of wheeling rooks, the little brook goes by
And lifts a hurrying voice as one afraid
To linger on its way; within the shade
Moss-cushioned now I sit, where once my day
Cast all its wealth of Summer hours away
Upon a book of Marvels; sunbeams hid
Among the boughs came trickling down, and slid
From page to page to light me on my way;

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—The charm that fled, the glory that forsook
Flow back upon my spirit; I am glad
Of ye, sweet scenes, sweet thoughts! I know the look
Ye turn upon me, it hath nothing sad;
Long, long ago, yet not through blame of mine
I left you far behind me on my track,
Now flits the shadow on Life's Dial back,
Twice ten degrees to find you! things Divine
Are imaged by the earthly, it was meet
That I should gather in my soul these sweet,
Long-parted childish fancies ere I go
Where none but children enter;

Even so;
I sleep at noon; all household noises cease,
No voices call me from without; the room
Is hushed and darkened round me; through the gloom
One friend beloved keeps moving to and fro
With step so quiet, oft I only know
Her presence by her gentle breathing,—Peace!