 | Two Unpublished Poems |  |
HESPERUS
O Hesperus, pale prophet of the night,
What shadowy griefs afflict thy mournful shores?
What lovers wail in poplar corridors?
What mothers haunt the murmuring sands, affright
For sea-boys driven by the mad winds' might
Over the darkling main? what child deplores
The silence of thy coming, and implores
The gracious dawn to herald the new light?
What shadowy griefs afflict thy mournful shores?
What lovers wail in poplar corridors?
What mothers haunt the murmuring sands, affright
For sea-boys driven by the mad winds' might
Over the darkling main? what child deplores
The silence of thy coming, and implores
The gracious dawn to herald the new light?
Turn from these sad ones, who desire not thee,
To me who hunger for thy purple wings;
Here, in the garish day, alone with Death,
In this alcove I sit, with bated breath;
And Death sits opposite, and no bird sings,
And the long glare and silence sicken me.
To me who hunger for thy purple wings;
Here, in the garish day, alone with Death,
In this alcove I sit, with bated breath;
And Death sits opposite, and no bird sings,
And the long glare and silence sicken me.
January 24, 1871
SAINT PETER
Not with the rapture of a god vine-crowned,
Nor with the glee of prophets borne from far
By women shouting to the morning star;
Nor as a fiery priest with hair unbound,
Rending the air with storms of lyric sound;
Nor calm as those dark deities that are
Asleep in lotus-lakes beyond the bar
Of Indian mountains: thus was he not found,
Nor with the glee of prophets borne from far
By women shouting to the morning star;
Nor as a fiery priest with hair unbound,
Rending the air with storms of lyric sound;
Nor calm as those dark deities that are
Asleep in lotus-lakes beyond the bar
Of Indian mountains: thus was he not found,
But stern and patient and divinely strong
To bear Christ's dove-white banner thro the lands,
In silent faith that seeks no dole or gain.
Come hither, then, and see him where he stands,
His earnest eyes made weary with the pain
Of waiting still for Him who tarrieth long!
To bear Christ's dove-white banner thro the lands,
In silent faith that seeks no dole or gain.
Come hither, then, and see him where he stands,
His earnest eyes made weary with the pain
Of waiting still for Him who tarrieth long!
February 1, 1871
| Two Unpublished Poems | |