University of Virginia Library

SONNETS.

ASCENDING.

They who from mountain peaks have gazed upon
The wide illimitable heavens, have said,
That still receding as they climbed, outspread,
The blue vault deepens over them, and one
By one drawn further back, each starry sun
Shoots down a feebler splendour overhead
So, Saviour! as our mounting spirits, led
Along Faith's living way to Thee, have won
A nearer access, up the difficult track
Still pressing, on that rarer atmosphere,
When low beneath us flits the cloudy rack,
We see Thee drawn within a widening sphere
Of glory, from us further, further back,—
Yet is it then because we are more near.

LIFE TAPESTRY.

Too long have I, methought, with tearful eye
Pored o'er this tangled work of mine, and mused
Above each stitch awry, and thread confused;
Now will I think on what in years gone by
I heard of them that weave rare tapestry
At Royal looms, and how they constant use
To work on the rough side, and still peruse
The pictured pattern set above them high;
So will I set my copy high above,
And gaze and gaze till on my spirit grows
Its gracious impress; till some line of love
Transferred upon my canvas, faintly glows;
Nor look too much on warp or woof, provide
He whom I work for sees their fairer side!

LOVE BIRDS.

IN A POLYTECHNIC EXHIBITION.

Mine eyes, 'mid all these wonders may not choose
But fix on ye, meek pair, so closely prest
For warmth against each other, breast to breast,
Till all their green and golden couplets fuse,
And run in one the many-mingling hues,
Whereon your heads lie, drooped and sunk in rest,
With eyes half closed, yet straying never, lest
Their gaze its one accustomed object lose.
Now do ye mind me of two spirits, cast
On life, 'mid all its strangeness new and old,
That having found each other out at last,
No longer rove, but mutually enfold
Soft plume with plume that blends and mingles fast,
The while they keep each other from the cold!

TO ELIZABETH BARRET BROWNING.

I lose myself within thy mind—from room
To goodly room thou leadest me, and still
Dost show me of thy glory more, until
My soul like Sheba's Queen faints, overcome,
And all my spirit dies within me, numb,
Sucked in by thine, a larger star, at will;
And hasting like thy bee, my hive to fill,
I “swoon for very joy” amid thy bloom;
Till—not like that poor bird (as poets feign)
That tried against the Lutanist's her skill,
Crowding her thick precipitate notes, until
Her weak heart brake above the contest vain—
Did not thy strength a nobler thought instil,
I feel as if I ne'er could sing again!

TO A REMEMBERED STREAM, AND A NEVER FORGOTTEN FRIEND.

Sweet stream, the haunt of solitary hern
And shy king-fisher, far from busy town
Or even populous hamlet, winding down
Through banks thick fringed with underwood and fern
And hazel thickets, where the ripe nuts turn
Unmarked and slow to Autumn's ruddy brown;
Where gems thy single rock its feathery crown
(For nought of thine looks ever sad or stern!)
With berried scarlet of the mountain-ash;—
I never hear 'mid waking dreams thy dash
Above the pebbles, but I think on One
Whose course of days hath by thy waters run,
A course like thine of calm and quietness,
Nor ever raised a voice except to bless.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

Too full our hearts of sorrowful delight,
Of parting converse, that one night, I ween,
For dream of Midsummer or Fairies' Queen;
As Thou sat'st near me, half in shade, half light,
The moonbeams touched thy forehead cold and white,
And Thou didst speak in moonlight! so serene
And soothing were thy words, and all thy mien,
Transparent as thy soul! when swift and bright
(So did our talk the short-lived night beguile)
The sun broke in to bid us make an end
With his beginning! Since that hour, dear friend,
I never think on Thee, so calm the while
Yet cheerful, but the sweetness seems to blend
Of moonlight and of sunlight in thy smile!

RESERVE.

Now would I learn thee like some noble task
That payeth well for labour; I would find
Thy soul's true Dominant, and thus unwind
Its deeper, rarer harmonies, that ask
Interpreting; for like a gracious mask
Is thy calm, quiet bearing; far behind
Thy spirit sits and smiles in sunshine kind,
And fain within that fulness mine would bask:
Set if thou wilt this bar betwixt thy tide
Of feeling and the world that might misknow
Its strength; use ever with the crowd this pride,
“Thus far, and yet no farther shall ye go;”
But not with me, dear friend, whose heart stands wide
To drink in all thy Being's overflow.

DREAMS.

“Dost thou believe in dreams?” I asked my Friend;
But then he answered quickly, “Would that I
Could learn that gentle Faith! to certainty
Turn all that Hope dares faintly apprehend!
Then would Life's richest colours meet and blend
Together, fused as in a Tropic sky
That hath no clouds; then Life would utterly
For all its wrongful doings make amend;
For Life hath brought me partings, but in Rest
Are only meetings! for the waking hours
Have trampled in their flight upon my flowers;
But Sleep's kind hand still gathers them again
From bowers remote, and binds them on my breast,—
I dare not stir for fear to break their chain!”

THE SOUL'S WOOERS.

Like Captive Judah, underneath the Tree
She sat alone and silent on the ground;
While from the valley rising, came the sound
Of music and of dancing, gay and free,—
But none did bid her to that company;
Till lifting up her heavy lids, she found
One standing by her, winged, and rosy crowned
And robed within the purple: “Rise, for thee
(He said, and kissed her on the brow elate)
The Ruler of the Feast hath kept till now
The richest wine;” but as she marvelled, drew
Another near, that whispered to her, “Wait;
Not of this vintage shalt thou taste till thou
Shalt drink it with me in my Kingdom new.”

HOPE.

When I do think on thee, sweet Hope, and how
Thou followest on our steps, a coaxing child
Oft chidden hence, yet quickly reconciled,
Still turning on us a glad, beaming brow,
And red, ripe lips for kisses: even now
Thou mindest me of Him, the Ruler mild,
Who led God's chosen people though the wild,
And bore with wayward murmurers, meek as thou
That bringest waters from the Rock, with bread
Of angels strewing Earth for us! like Him
Thy force abates not, nor thine eye grows dim;
But still with milk and honey-droppings fed,
Thou leadest to the Promised Country fair,
Though thou like Moses may'st not enter there!