Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
 | I. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| II. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
[What was thy life? a pearl cast up awhile] |
 | Poems |  |
207
[What was thy life? a pearl cast up awhile]
What was thy life? a pearl cast up awhile
Upon the bank and shoal of time;—again,
Even as it did the gazer's eyes beguile,
Drawn backward by the ever-hungering main.
Upon the bank and shoal of time;—again,
Even as it did the gazer's eyes beguile,
Drawn backward by the ever-hungering main.
What was thy life? a fountain of sweet wave,
Which to the salt sea's margin all too near
Rose sparkling, and a few steps scarcely gave,
Ere that distained its waters fresh and clear.
Which to the salt sea's margin all too near
Rose sparkling, and a few steps scarcely gave,
Ere that distained its waters fresh and clear.
What was thy life? a flowering almond-tree,
Which all too soon its blossoms did unfold;
And so must see their lustre presently
Dimmed, and their beauty nipped by envious cold.
Which all too soon its blossoms did unfold;
And so must see their lustre presently
Dimmed, and their beauty nipped by envious cold.
What was thy life? a bright and beauteous flame,
Wherein, a season, light and joy we found;
But a swift sound of rushing tempest came,
It passed—and sparkless ashes strewed the ground.
Wherein, a season, light and joy we found;
But a swift sound of rushing tempest came,
It passed—and sparkless ashes strewed the ground.
What was thy life? a bird in infant's hand
Held with too slight a grasp, and which, before
He knows or fears, its pinions doth expand,
And with a sudden impulse heavenward soar.
Held with too slight a grasp, and which, before
He knows or fears, its pinions doth expand,
And with a sudden impulse heavenward soar.
208
I cannot tell what coming years
May have, reserved, of grief for me;
I cannot tell what they may be,
How wrung with anguish, dimmed with tears:
May have, reserved, of grief for me;
I cannot tell what they may be,
How wrung with anguish, dimmed with tears:
But scarcely can a sadder morn
Than this upon mine eyelids break,
When from a flattering dream I wake
On a reality forlorn,
Than this upon mine eyelids break,
When from a flattering dream I wake
On a reality forlorn,
For never from thine ivory gate,
O Sleep, a falser dream was sent
Than unto me brief gladness lent,
To leave me sorrow's trustier mate.
O Sleep, a falser dream was sent
Than unto me brief gladness lent,
To leave me sorrow's trustier mate.
We wandered freely as of yore,
And in my hand I felt the grasp
Of that small hand, whose tender clasp
I shall not feel, oh! any more:
And in my hand I felt the grasp
Of that small hand, whose tender clasp
I shall not feel, oh! any more:
We wandered through the peopled towns,
And where we came I heard men praise
His gracious looks, his winning ways,—
We wandered o'er the lonely downs;
And where we came I heard men praise
His gracious looks, his winning ways,—
We wandered o'er the lonely downs;
And ever held familiar talk
As we passed onward, I and he
Who was companion true to me
At home, and in long woodland walk;
As we passed onward, I and he
Who was companion true to me
At home, and in long woodland walk;
209
Gone was the agony, the fear,
And all the dreadful gulf between
What we are now and what have been,
The vault, the coffin, and the bier.
And all the dreadful gulf between
What we are now and what have been,
The vault, the coffin, and the bier.
I start—and lo! my dream is not:
But though 'tis round me thickest gloom,
Yet in the corner of the room
I know there stands a vacant cot.
But though 'tis round me thickest gloom,
Yet in the corner of the room
I know there stands a vacant cot.
I close mine eyes; I strive again
To feed upon that poor delight;
The broken links to re-unite
Once more of slumber's golden chain.
To feed upon that poor delight;
The broken links to re-unite
Once more of slumber's golden chain.
Lost effort!—Sleep, oh! twice untrue,
What need to bring that fond deceit?
And then, when I allow the cheat,
To flee, while vainly I pursue?
What need to bring that fond deceit?
And then, when I allow the cheat,
To flee, while vainly I pursue?
| Poems | |