The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott Edited by his Son Edwin Elliott ... A New and Revised Edition: Two Volumes |
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| LYRICS FOR MY DAUGHTERS. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott |  |
263
LYRICS FOR MY DAUGHTERS.
SONG.
[Oh, Love, thou art a heav'n on earth]
Oh, Love, thou art a heav'n on earth,
And earth is heav'n enough for thee!
But souls must have their second birth,
And far, far hence thy home must be:
We go to join the lost and true,
Our task perform'd, our foes forgiv'n:
In wind and rain, on earth we grew,
And need not fear the calm of heav'n.
And earth is heav'n enough for thee!
But souls must have their second birth,
And far, far hence thy home must be:
We go to join the lost and true,
Our task perform'd, our foes forgiv'n:
In wind and rain, on earth we grew,
And need not fear the calm of heav'n.
Beneath dim star, and clouded moon,
Torn hearts may blissful secrets tell:
Bright shines the ice on rocks at noon,
And hoary locks become thee well:
What, though 'tis sad our way to wing
From cares that give a charm to pain?
Our withering autumn shall be spring,
And these dry branches bud again.
Torn hearts may blissful secrets tell:
Bright shines the ice on rocks at noon,
And hoary locks become thee well:
What, though 'tis sad our way to wing
From cares that give a charm to pain?
Our withering autumn shall be spring,
And these dry branches bud again.
264
SONG.
[“The Home of Taste,” say souls of dust]
“The Home of Taste,” say souls of dust,
“Is not for men who toil:
For bread alone they till, and must,
Life's hopeless soil.”
“Is not for men who toil:
For bread alone they till, and must,
Life's hopeless soil.”
But here comes he whom no one knows,
The thrall of tasteless power;
Why plucks he, as he homeward goes,
The hawthorn flower?
The thrall of tasteless power;
Why plucks he, as he homeward goes,
The hawthorn flower?
Red Rose, that lov'st the cottage door,
If hope within there be!
Why stops a wretch so tired and poor,
To look on thee?
If hope within there be!
Why stops a wretch so tired and poor,
To look on thee?
Oh, yet the greatest and the least
A Home of Taste will find!
And Knowledge spread her beauteous feast
For all mankind!
A Home of Taste will find!
And Knowledge spread her beauteous feast
For all mankind!
The only high and heart-based throne
Is unclass'd virtue's prize;
For who are great? The good alone,
They only wise.
Is unclass'd virtue's prize;
For who are great? The good alone,
They only wise.
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And what, sweet rose, sweet hawthorn flower,
To hind, or artisan,
Are Taste's pure charm, and Beauty's power,
But God in Man?
To hind, or artisan,
Are Taste's pure charm, and Beauty's power,
But God in Man?
CHANT.
[The angels are our brothers]
The angels are our brothers;Let us like them become,
And emulate in beauty
The first-born of our home:
Lord! we are thine, and they are thine:
In rescued Eden, let us twine
With mortal virtues love divine,
And be earth's angels!
SONG.
[When days of frost and snow were over]
When days of frost and snow were over,
I told the sleepless moon,
I told the stars, that my true lover
Would see his Mary soon:
Now, children seek the daisied closes,
Birds sing the green world o'er,
And woodbines wed the wild hedge roses,
But William comes no more!
I told the sleepless moon,
I told the stars, that my true lover
Would see his Mary soon:
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Birds sing the green world o'er,
And woodbines wed the wild hedge roses,
But William comes no more!
Ere wintry days again are over,
Ere daisies come again,
I shall not need a faithless lover,
Nor wish for rest in vain:
Oh, Woodbine flower, our last was spoken
Where now thou flauntest free!
Oh, wild Hedge Rose, my heart is broken!
Thou bloom'st in vain for me.
Ere daisies come again,
I shall not need a faithless lover,
Nor wish for rest in vain:
Oh, Woodbine flower, our last was spoken
Where now thou flauntest free!
Oh, wild Hedge Rose, my heart is broken!
Thou bloom'st in vain for me.
SONG.
[Sing her a song of the white-headed one]
Sing her a song of the white-headed one,
Gone, gone before! Gone, gone before!
Sing to her tears of the sire who is gone!
When to come more? Never more!
Heart-breaking sea, when she weepeth alone,
Tell his sad child that the white-headed one
Went to the grave blessing her who was gone
Wide, wide waves o'er! Wide waves o'er!
Gone, gone before! Gone, gone before!
Sing to her tears of the sire who is gone!
When to come more? Never more!
Heart-breaking sea, when she weepeth alone,
Tell his sad child that the white-headed one
Went to the grave blessing her who was gone
Wide, wide waves o'er! Wide waves o'er!
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Now sighs the widow unto the lone sea,
“Bring her again! Bring her again!
Sea, let the sad find a helper in thee!
Bring her again! Soon again!”
Wild was the parting, but may there not be
Tears which are blissful? when sings the old sea,
“Mother and Child! thank the Good God for me;
Meet, meet again! Meet again!”
“Bring her again! Bring her again!
Sea, let the sad find a helper in thee!
Bring her again! Soon again!”
Wild was the parting, but may there not be
Tears which are blissful? when sings the old sea,
“Mother and Child! thank the Good God for me;
Meet, meet again! Meet again!”
SONG.
[For Spring, and flowers of Spring]
For Spring, and flowers of Spring,
Blossoms, and what they bring,
Be our thanks given;
Thanks for the maiden's bloom;
For the sad prison's gloom;
And for the sadder tomb;
E'en as for Heav'n!
Blossoms, and what they bring,
Be our thanks given;
Thanks for the maiden's bloom;
For the sad prison's gloom;
And for the sadder tomb;
E'en as for Heav'n!
Great God, thy will is done,
When the soul's rivers run
Down the worn cheeks;
Done when the righteous bleed;
When the wrong'd vainly plead;
Done in th' unended deed,
When the heart breaks.
When the soul's rivers run
Down the worn cheeks;
Done when the righteous bleed;
When the wrong'd vainly plead;
Done in th' unended deed,
When the heart breaks.
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Lo, how the dutiful
Snows, clothe in beautiful
Life, the dead earth!
Lo, how the clouds distil
Riches o'er vale and hill,
While the storm's evil-will
Dies in its birth!
Snows, clothe in beautiful
Life, the dead earth!
Lo, how the clouds distil
Riches o'er vale and hill,
While the storm's evil-will
Dies in its birth!
Bless'd is th' unpeopled down;
Bless'd is the crowded town,
Where the tired groan;
Pain but appears to be;
What are Man's fears to Thee,
God! if all tears shall be
Gems on thy throne?
Bless'd is the crowded town,
Where the tired groan;
Pain but appears to be;
What are Man's fears to Thee,
God! if all tears shall be
Gems on thy throne?
SONG.
[When the pale worker faints]
When the pale worker faints,
Making no moan,
Though his unutter'd plaints
Rise to God's throne,
What from despair can keep
Languor too tired to sleep,
Sorrow too sad to weep?
Music alone!
Making no moan,
Though his unutter'd plaints
Rise to God's throne,
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Languor too tired to sleep,
Sorrow too sad to weep?
Music alone!
Milton, poor, old, and blind,
Fated to bear
Worst woes that scourge his kind,
Did not despair:
What, behind curtains worn,
Where his night knew no morn,
Held up his heart forlorn?
Music was there.
Fated to bear
Worst woes that scourge his kind,
Did not despair:
What, behind curtains worn,
Where his night knew no morn,
Held up his heart forlorn?
Music was there.
Then, to the hopeless one,
Thus, if you can,
Sing, weary wife or son,
Wasted and wan:
“Though pain our portion be,
High is our destiny:
Born thrall of poverty,
Still thou art Man!”
Thus, if you can,
Sing, weary wife or son,
Wasted and wan:
“Though pain our portion be,
High is our destiny:
Born thrall of poverty,
Still thou art Man!”
“Homer and Plato were
Kindred of thine;
With thee the angels share
Utt'rance divine;
Heav'n hath thine image got;
Jesus partook thy lot;
And where night cometh not
Thy sun will shine.”
Kindred of thine;
With thee the angels share
Utt'rance divine;
270
Jesus partook thy lot;
And where night cometh not
Thy sun will shine.”
It costs nothing, and the starving man has nothing. Bring music to the poor man's hearth, and he will not seek it in the alehouse.
PLAINT.
Dark, deep, and cold the current flows
Unto the sea where no wind blows,
Seeking the land which no one knows.
Unto the sea where no wind blows,
Seeking the land which no one knows.
O'er its sad gloom still comes and goes
The mingled wail of friends and foes,
Borne to the land which no one knows.
The mingled wail of friends and foes,
Borne to the land which no one knows.
Why shrieks for help yon wretch, who goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Unto the land which no knows?
With millions, from a world of woes,
Unto the land which no knows?
Though myriads go with him who goes,
Alone he goes where no wind blows,
Unto the land which no one knows.
Alone he goes where no wind blows,
Unto the land which no one knows.
For all must go where no wind blows,
And none can go for him who goes;
None, none return whence no one knows.
And none can go for him who goes;
None, none return whence no one knows.
271
Yet why should he who shrieking goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Reunion seek with it or those?
With millions, from a world of woes,
Reunion seek with it or those?
Alone with God, where no wind blows,
And Death, his shadow—doom'd, he goes:
That God is there the shadow shows.
And Death, his shadow—doom'd, he goes:
That God is there the shadow shows.
Oh, shoreless Deep, where no wind blows!
And, thou, oh, Land which no one knows!
That God is All, His shadow shows.
And, thou, oh, Land which no one knows!
That God is All, His shadow shows.
| The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott | |