University of Virginia Library

I miss thy voice, dear friend. The hours are long,
And vexing thoughts bewilder. Wilt thou give
Thy counsel to thy pupil? None save thee
Can guide me through the tangled maze and dark;
No eye but thine see clearly through the mist;
No voice so breathe, in music of sweet sounds,
The wisdom that ennobles. As it is,
Again I travel o'er the path we trod,
Read the same books, at evening and at morn
Remember thee in every orison,
And count the hours till thou come back again,
And, bright as is the sunlight on the hills,
Thy presence shine on me. Meantime I ask
That insight which, through earth, and heaven, and deep,
Finds nothing hidden, soars above the stars
With wing that never flags, to spare for me
The crumbs that from the rich man's banquet fall
To glut the beggar's hunger. I would know
The mystery of our reason and our speech:
These words of ours, that speak of truth and good,
Man, angel, God; ... what are they? May we hold
God gave them to us, outward signs of things
That lie within the veil? Has every name,
So lightly used, its primal archetype
Eternal in the heavens? And do we reach
Through them the living truth, our “good” and “fair”
The symbols of a beauty and a good
We yet scarce dream of? Or, rejecting that,
As but itself a dream which mocks the thought
With visions of a world which is not ours,
Which altogether is not, must we treat
These words with which we travel high and far,
As but the coinage of our minting brain,
Fools' money, wise men's counters? And if so,
Why cheat our souls with all this endless toil,
This weary strife of tongues, when yet at last
We get no nearer to the living truth,
(If truth there be,) but play an infant's game,
Destroying, building, all our systems fair
Houses of cards that rise and have their day,
And never shelter give to weary souls,
Nor keep their ground against the storms of time?
I pass o'er other questions. May we hold
Our numbers, measures, weights as patterns drawn
From that high Wisdom which has ordered all,
This goodly world, yon firmament of stars,
By number, weight, and measure? Music's laws,
So wondrous in their working, giving voice
To thoughts that lie beyond the grasp of words,
To feelings deep below the fount of tears,
Are they too echoes of a nobler song,
The spheral music of the circling stars,
The anthems of the angels?

Passing these,
I hasten on and upward. Holier ground
I dare to tread on, look with eager eye
Where angels veil their faces, shrink not back
From boldest searching. Once I lived my life,
As others live, in girlhood's reverent fear;
Matins and vespers drew my thoughts to God;
I prayed the saints to shield my soul from harm;
Our Lady smiled from out her gilded shrine,
And won me with her beauty. Feast and Fast
Brought their due changes as the seasons ran,
And I observed them in the childlike faith
That this was all my duty. Then thy form
Rose, like a meteor on the darkened sky;
Thou camest, Master mine, and lo! thy words
Were as a key to ope the secret store
Of Wisdom's treasures. Now the wondrous thoughts
Of Prophet and Apostle clearer grew;
The words and deeds of Him above them both
Were as an open scroll; and so we tracked
The march of Truth across the waste of Time,
Fair, glorious, terrible, as though we saw
An army with its banners. Many a name
That led the vanguard of that mighty host
Became to us familiar. Jerome first,
Who wrought his task in Bethlehem's holy cave,
And from his cell did govern women's hearts,
Marcella, Paula, as thy lightest word
Has governed mine. And then Augustine came,
Wild, reckless, wandering, till the mighty prayer
Of Monica prevailed, and all the flood
Of wild desire lay calm, and clear, and hushed,
And mirrored back the likeness of his Lord,
As sleeping waters in a mountain lake
Give back the golden sunlight. Origen,
Him too we read of, with his wondrous hope,
Wide-spreading o'er the universe of God,
And purgèd eyes that saw behind the veil
Of outward symbol. Nor was other food
Wanting in those our banquets. Virgil told
His tale of great Æneas, and the love,
Impassioned, fatal, of the Tyrian queen,
Or how the minstrel seer of old sought out,
And found, and lost, his loved Eurydice.

Ah, friend! thou too hast found, ..... and wilt thou lose?
Thy music's spell has roused my soul from sleep
That was as death, and shall thy eager glance,
Thy love's wild frenzy, passionate embrace,
Hurl me to death again? No; go thy way;
Be to the world what thou hast been to me,
Dispel the darkness, bid the discords hush,
Give truth free speech, and rise to all the height
Of thy great calling. Men admire thee now;
They list with rapture to thy honeyed speech;
Old dotards curse thee, and the bold and young
Own thee their master. Go and conquer then;
March onward till thou reach the dizzy peak
Of lonely power, and from the apostle's throne
Put forth thine arm with power to bind or loose;
Smite thou the kings and mighty ones of earth,
Shield thou the poor who delve and toil for bread,
Break thou the bonds and set the captives free:
Be as the Prophet-Priest of this our day,
And with thy bright cloud-piercing intellect,
Lead thou the Church, through all the dreary waste,
The land of wanderings, to the brighter hopes,
The vision of the future. And for me,
When this shall be, and I, in lowliest shade,
Have found my refuge, I will sometimes ask
In evening's dreams, “And does he think of me,
Whom once he guided up the slopes of Truth,
And do his prayers rise up, as mine for him,
For her who loved him ....” Yes, the word must pass,
“With love so eager, passionate, intense,
That it would fain forget itself in death,
And be as though it were not?” To renounce
All honour, hope, enjoyment, welcome shame,
Reproach, and solitude; no more to see
The face so loved, nor hear the voice that thrills
The inmost soul; for very love's dear sake
To crush love out, that so no cloud may come
Between thee and thy fortunes;—this be mine,
And thine be .... what God sends thee.