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Underglimpses.
THE ARRAYING.
The blue-eyed maidens of the sea
With trembling haste approach the lee,
So small and smooth, they seem to be
Not waves, but children of the waves,
And as each linkèd circle laves
The crescent marge of creek and bay,
Their mingled voices all repeat—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
We come to bathe thy snow-white feet.
With trembling haste approach the lee,
So small and smooth, they seem to be
Not waves, but children of the waves,
And as each linkèd circle laves
The crescent marge of creek and bay,
Their mingled voices all repeat—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
We come to bathe thy snow-white feet.
We bring thee treasures rich and rare,
White pearl to deck thy golden hair,
And coral beads, so smoothly fair
And free from every flaw or speck,
That they may lie upon thy neck,
This sweetest day—this brightest day
That ever on the green world shone—
O lovely May, O long'd-for May!
As if thy neck and thee were one.
White pearl to deck thy golden hair,
And coral beads, so smoothly fair
And free from every flaw or speck,
That they may lie upon thy neck,
This sweetest day—this brightest day
That ever on the green world shone—
O lovely May, O long'd-for May!
As if thy neck and thee were one.
We bring thee from our distant home
Robes of the pure white-woven foam,
And many a pure, transparent comb,
Formed of the shells the tortoise plaits,
By Babelmandeb's coral-straits;
And amber vases, with inlay
Of roseate pearl time never dims—
O lovely May! O longed-for May!
Wherein to lave thine ivory limbs.
Robes of the pure white-woven foam,
And many a pure, transparent comb,
Formed of the shells the tortoise plaits,
By Babelmandeb's coral-straits;
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Of roseate pearl time never dims—
O lovely May! O longed-for May!
Wherein to lave thine ivory limbs.
We bring, as sandals for thy feet,
Beam-broidered waves, like those that greet,
With green and golden chrysolite,
The setting sun's departing beams,
When all the western water seems
Like emeralds melted by his ray,
So softly bright, so gently warm—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
That thou canst trust thy tender form.
Beam-broidered waves, like those that greet,
With green and golden chrysolite,
The setting sun's departing beams,
When all the western water seems
Like emeralds melted by his ray,
So softly bright, so gently warm—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
That thou canst trust thy tender form.
And lo! the ladies of the hill,
The rippling stream, and sparkling rill,
With rival speed, and like good will,
Come, bearing down the mountain's side
The liquid crystals of the tide,
In vitreous vessels clear as they,
And cry, from each worn, winding path:
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
We come to lead thee to the bath.
The rippling stream, and sparkling rill,
With rival speed, and like good will,
Come, bearing down the mountain's side
The liquid crystals of the tide,
In vitreous vessels clear as they,
And cry, from each worn, winding path:
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
We come to lead thee to the bath.
And we have fashioned, for thy sake,
Mirrors more bright than art could make—
The silvery-sheeted mountain lake
Hangs in its carvèd frame of rocks,
Wherein to dress thy dripping locks,
Or bind the dewy curls that stray
Thy trembling breast meandering down—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
Within their self-woven crown.
Mirrors more bright than art could make—
The silvery-sheeted mountain lake
Hangs in its carvèd frame of rocks,
Wherein to dress thy dripping locks,
Or bind the dewy curls that stray
Thy trembling breast meandering down—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
Within their self-woven crown.
Arise, O May! arise and see
Thine emerald robes are held for thee
By many a hundred-handed tree,
Who lift from all the fields around
The verduous velvet from the ground,
And then the spotless vestments lay,
Smooth-folded o'er their outstretch'd arms—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
Wherein to fold thy virgin charms.
Thine emerald robes are held for thee
By many a hundred-handed tree,
Who lift from all the fields around
The verduous velvet from the ground,
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Smooth-folded o'er their outstretch'd arms—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
Wherein to fold thy virgin charms.
Thy robes are stiff with golden bees,
Dotted with gems more bright than these,
And scented by each perfumed breeze
That, blown from heaven's re-open'd bowers,
Become the souls of new-born flowers,
Who thus their sacred birth betray;
Heavenly thou art, nor less should be—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
The favour'd forms that wait on thee.
Dotted with gems more bright than these,
And scented by each perfumed breeze
That, blown from heaven's re-open'd bowers,
Become the souls of new-born flowers,
Who thus their sacred birth betray;
Heavenly thou art, nor less should be—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
The favour'd forms that wait on thee.
The moss to guard thy feet is spread,
The wreaths are woven for thy head,
The rosy curtains of thy bed
Become transparent in the blaze
Of the strong sun's resistless gaze:
Then lady, make no more delay,
The world still lives, though spring be dead—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
And thou must rule and reign instead.
The wreaths are woven for thy head,
The rosy curtains of thy bed
Become transparent in the blaze
Of the strong sun's resistless gaze:
Then lady, make no more delay,
The world still lives, though spring be dead—
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
And thou must rule and reign instead.
The lady from her bed arose,
Her bed the leaves the moss-bud blows
Herself a lily in that rose;
The maidens of the streams and sands
Bathe some her feet and some her hands:
And some the emerald robes display;
Her dewy locks were then upcurled,
And lovely May—the long'd-for May—
Was crown'd the Queen of all the World!
Her bed the leaves the moss-bud blows
Herself a lily in that rose;
The maidens of the streams and sands
Bathe some her feet and some her hands:
And some the emerald robes display;
Her dewy locks were then upcurled,
And lovely May—the long'd-for May—
Was crown'd the Queen of all the World!
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THE SEARCH.
Let us seek the modest May,
She is down in the glen,
Hiding and abiding
From the common gaze of men,
Where the silver streamlet crosses
O'er the smooth stones green with mosses,
And glancing and dancing,
Goes singing on its way—
We shall find the modest maiden there to-day.
She is down in the glen,
Hiding and abiding
From the common gaze of men,
Where the silver streamlet crosses
O'er the smooth stones green with mosses,
And glancing and dancing,
Goes singing on its way—
We shall find the modest maiden there to-day.
Let us seek the merry May,
She is up on the hill,
Laughing and quaffing
From the fountain and the rill.
Where the southern zephyr sprinkles,
Like bright smiles on age's wrinkles,
O'er the edges and ledges
Of the rocks, the wild flowers gay—
We shall find the merry maiden there to-day.
She is up on the hill,
Laughing and quaffing
From the fountain and the rill.
Where the southern zephyr sprinkles,
Like bright smiles on age's wrinkles,
O'er the edges and ledges
Of the rocks, the wild flowers gay—
We shall find the merry maiden there to-day.
Let us seek the musing May,
She is deep in the wood,
Viewing and pursuing
The beautiful and good.
Where the grassy bank receding,
Spreads its quiet couch for reading
The pages of the sages,
And the poet's lyric lay—
We shall find the musing maiden there to-day.
She is deep in the wood,
Viewing and pursuing
The beautiful and good.
Where the grassy bank receding,
Spreads its quiet couch for reading
The pages of the sages,
And the poet's lyric lay—
We shall find the musing maiden there to-day.
Let us seek the mirthful May,
She is out on the strand
Racing and chasing
The ripples o'er the sand.
Where the warming waves discover
All the treasures that they cover,
Whitening and brightening
The pebbles for her play—
We shall find the mirthful maiden there to-day.
She is out on the strand
Racing and chasing
The ripples o'er the sand.
Where the warming waves discover
All the treasures that they cover,
Whitening and brightening
The pebbles for her play—
We shall find the mirthful maiden there to-day.
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Let us seek the wandering May,
She is off to the plain,
Finding the winding
Of the labyrinthine lane.
She is passing through its mazes
While the hawthorn, as it gazes
With grief, lets its leaflets
Whiten all the way—
We shall find the wandering maiden there to-day.
She is off to the plain,
Finding the winding
Of the labyrinthine lane.
She is passing through its mazes
While the hawthorn, as it gazes
With grief, lets its leaflets
Whiten all the way—
We shall find the wandering maiden there to-day.
Let us seek her in the ray—
Let us track her by the rill—
Wending ascending
The slopings of the hill.
Where the robin from the copses
Breathes a love-note, and then drops his
Trilling, till, willing,
His mate responds his lay—
We shall find the listening maiden there to-day
Let us track her by the rill—
Wending ascending
The slopings of the hill.
Where the robin from the copses
Breathes a love-note, and then drops his
Trilling, till, willing,
His mate responds his lay—
We shall find the listening maiden there to-day
But why seek her far away?
Like a young bird in its mest,
She is warming and forming
Her dwelling in her breast.
While the heart she doth repose on,
Like the down the sunwind blows on,
Gloweth, yet showeth
The trembling of the ray—
We shall find the happy maiden there to-day.
Like a young bird in its mest,
She is warming and forming
Her dwelling in her breast.
While the heart she doth repose on,
Like the down the sunwind blows on,
Gloweth, yet showeth
The trembling of the ray—
We shall find the happy maiden there to-day.
THE TIDINGS.
A bright beam came to my window frame,
This sweet May morn,
And it said to the cold, hard glass:
Oh! let me pass,
For I have good news to tell,
The queen of the dewy dell,
The beautiful May is born!
This sweet May morn,
And it said to the cold, hard glass:
Oh! let me pass,
For I have good news to tell,
The queen of the dewy dell,
The beautiful May is born!
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Warm with the race, through the open space,
This sweet May morn,
Came a soft wind out of the skies;
And it said to my heart—Arise!
Go forth from the winter's fire,
For the child of thy long desire,
The beautiful May is born!
This sweet May morn,
Came a soft wind out of the skies;
And it said to my heart—Arise!
Go forth from the winter's fire,
For the child of thy long desire,
The beautiful May is born!
The bright beam glanced and the soft wind danced,
This sweet May morn,
Over my cheek and over my eyes;
And I said with a glad surprise:
Oh! lead me forth, ye blessed twain,
Over the hill and over the plain,
Where the beautiful May is born.
This sweet May morn,
Over my cheek and over my eyes;
And I said with a glad surprise:
Oh! lead me forth, ye blessed twain,
Over the hill and over the plain,
Where the beautiful May is born.
Through the open door leaped the beam before
This sweet May morn,
And the soft wind floated along,
Like a poet's song,
Warm from his heart and fresh from his brain;
And they led me over the mount and plain,
To the beautiful May new-born.
This sweet May morn,
And the soft wind floated along,
Like a poet's song,
Warm from his heart and fresh from his brain;
And they led me over the mount and plain,
To the beautiful May new-born.
My guide so bright and my guide so light,
This sweet May morn,
Led me along o'er the grassy ground,
And I knew by each joyous sight and sound,
The fields so green and the skies so gay,
That heaven and earth kept holiday,
That the beautiful May was born.
This sweet May morn,
Led me along o'er the grassy ground,
And I knew by each joyous sight and sound,
The fields so green and the skies so gay,
That heaven and earth kept holiday,
That the beautiful May was born.
Out of the sea with their eyes of glee,
This sweet May morn,
Came the blue waves hastily on;
And they murmuring cried—Thou happy one!
Show us, O Earth! thy darling child,
For we heard far out on the ocean wild,
That the beautiful May was born.
This sweet May morn,
Came the blue waves hastily on;
And they murmuring cried—Thou happy one!
Show us, O Earth! thy darling child,
For we heard far out on the ocean wild,
That the beautiful May was born.
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The wingèd flame to the rosebud came,
This sweet May morn,
And it said to the flower—Prepare!
Lay thy nectarine bosom bare;
Full soon, full soon, thou must rock to rest,
And nurse and feed on thy glowing breast,
The beautiful May now born.
This sweet May morn,
And it said to the flower—Prepare!
Lay thy nectarine bosom bare;
Full soon, full soon, thou must rock to rest,
And nurse and feed on thy glowing breast,
The beautiful May now born.
The gladsome breeze through the trembling trees,
This sweet May morn,
Went joyously on from bough to bough;
And it said to the red-branched plum—O thou,
Cover with mimic pearls and gems,
And with silver bells, thy coral stems,
For the beautiful May now born.
This sweet May morn,
Went joyously on from bough to bough;
And it said to the red-branched plum—O thou,
Cover with mimic pearls and gems,
And with silver bells, thy coral stems,
For the beautiful May now born.
Under the eaves and through the leaves
This sweet May morn,
The soft wind whispering flew:
And it said to the listening birds—Oh, you,
Sweet choristers of the skies,
Awaken your tenderest lullabies,
For the beautiful May now born.
This sweet May morn,
The soft wind whispering flew:
And it said to the listening birds—Oh, you,
Sweet choristers of the skies,
Awaken your tenderest lullabies,
For the beautiful May now born.
The white cloud flew to the uttermost blue,
This sweet May morn,
It bore, like a gentle carrier-dove,
The blessèd news to the realms above;
While its sister coo'd in the midst of the grove,
And within my heart the spirit of love,
That the beautiful May was born!
This sweet May morn,
It bore, like a gentle carrier-dove,
The blessèd news to the realms above;
While its sister coo'd in the midst of the grove,
And within my heart the spirit of love,
That the beautiful May was born!
WELCOME, MAY.
Welcome, May! welcome, May!
Thou hast been too long away,
All the widow'd wintry hours
Wept for thee, gentle May;
But the fault was only ours—
We were sad when thou wert gay!
Thou hast been too long away,
All the widow'd wintry hours
Wept for thee, gentle May;
But the fault was only ours—
We were sad when thou wert gay!
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Welcome, May! welcome, May!
We are wiser far to-day—
Fonder, too, than we were then.
Gentle May! joyous May!
Now that thou art come again,
We perchance may make thee stay.
We are wiser far to-day—
Fonder, too, than we were then.
Gentle May! joyous May!
Now that thou art come again,
We perchance may make thee stay.
Welcome, May! welcome, May!
Everything kept holiday
Save the human heart alone.
Mirthful May! gladsome May!
We had cares and thou hadst none
When thou camest last this way!
Everything kept holiday
Save the human heart alone.
Mirthful May! gladsome May!
We had cares and thou hadst none
When thou camest last this way!
When thou camest last this way
Blossoms bloomed on every spray,
Buds on barren boughs were born—
Fertile May! fruitful May!
Like the rose upon the thorn
Cannot grief awhile be gay?
Blossoms bloomed on every spray,
Buds on barren boughs were born—
Fertile May! fruitful May!
Like the rose upon the thorn
Cannot grief awhile be gay?
'Tis not for the golden ray,
Or the flowers that strew thy way,
O immortal One! thou art
Here to-day, gentle May—
'Tis to man's ungrateful heart
That thy fairy footseps stray.
Or the flowers that strew thy way,
O immortal One! thou art
Here to-day, gentle May—
'Tis to man's ungrateful heart
That thy fairy footseps stray.
'Tis to give that living clay
Flowers that ne'er can fade away—
Fond remembrances of bliss;
And a foretaste, mystic May,
Of the life that follows this,
Full of joys that last alway!
Flowers that ne'er can fade away—
Fond remembrances of bliss;
And a foretaste, mystic May,
Of the life that follows this,
Full of joys that last alway!
Other months are cold and gray,
Some are bright, but what are they?
Earth may take the whole eleven—
Hopeful May—happy May!
Thine the borrowed month of heaven
Cometh thence and points the way.
Some are bright, but what are they?
Earth may take the whole eleven—
Hopeful May—happy May!
Thine the borrowed month of heaven
Cometh thence and points the way.
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Wingèd minstrels come and play
Through the woods their roundelay;
Who can tell but only thou,
Spirit-ear'd, inspirèd May,
On the bud-embow'rèd bough
What the happy lyrists say?
Through the woods their roundelay;
Who can tell but only thou,
Spirit-ear'd, inspirèd May,
On the bud-embow'rèd bough
What the happy lyrists say?
Is the burden of their lay
Love's desire, or Love's decay?
Are there not some fond regrets
Mix'd with these, divinest May,
For the sun that never sets
Down the everlasting day?
Love's desire, or Love's decay?
Are there not some fond regrets
Mix'd with these, divinest May,
For the sun that never sets
Down the everlasting day?
But upon thy wondrous way
Mirth alone should dance and play—
No regrets, how fond they be,
E'er should wound the ear of May—
Bow before her, flower and tree!
Nor, my heart, do thou delay.
Mirth alone should dance and play—
No regrets, how fond they be,
E'er should wound the ear of May—
Bow before her, flower and tree!
Nor, my heart, do thou delay.
THE MEETING OF THE FLOWERS.
There is within this world of ours
Full many a happy home and hearth;
What time, the Saviour's blessed birth
Makes glad the gloom of wintry hours.
Full many a happy home and hearth;
What time, the Saviour's blessed birth
Makes glad the gloom of wintry hours.
When back from severed shore and shore,
And over seas that vainly part,
The scattered embers of the heart
Glow round the parent hearth once more.
And over seas that vainly part,
The scattered embers of the heart
Glow round the parent hearth once more.
When those who now are anxious men,
Forget their growing years and cares;
Forget the time-flakes on their hairs,
And laugh, light-hearted boys again.
Forget their growing years and cares;
Forget the time-flakes on their hairs,
And laugh, light-hearted boys again.
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When those who now are wedded wives,
By children of their own embraced,
Recall their early joys, and taste
Anew the childhood of their lives.
By children of their own embraced,
Recall their early joys, and taste
Anew the childhood of their lives.
And the old people—the good sire
And kindly parent-mother—glow
To feel their children's children throw
Fresh warmth around the Christmas fire.
And kindly parent-mother—glow
To feel their children's children throw
Fresh warmth around the Christmas fire.
When in the sweet colloquial din,
Unheard the sullen sleet-winds shout;
And though the winter rage without,
The social summer reigns within.
Unheard the sullen sleet-winds shout;
And though the winter rage without,
The social summer reigns within.
But in this wondrous world of ours
Are other circling kindred chords,
Binding poor harmless beasts and birds,
And the fair family of flowers.
Are other circling kindred chords,
Binding poor harmless beasts and birds,
And the fair family of flowers.
That family that meet to-day
From many a foreign field and glen,
For what is Christmas-tide with men
Is with the flowers the time of May.
From many a foreign field and glen,
For what is Christmas-tide with men
Is with the flowers the time of May.
Back to the meadows of the West,
Back to their natal fields they come;
And as they reach their wished-for home,
The Mother folds them to her breast.
Back to their natal fields they come;
And as they reach their wished-for home,
The Mother folds them to her breast.
And as she breathes, with balmy sighs,
A fervent blessing over them,
The tearful, glistening dews begem
The parents' and the children's eyes.
A fervent blessing over them,
The tearful, glistening dews begem
The parents' and the children's eyes.
She spreads a carpet for their feet,
And mossy pillows for their heads,
And curtains round their fairy beds
With blossom-broidered branches sweet.
And mossy pillows for their heads,
And curtains round their fairy beds
With blossom-broidered branches sweet.
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She feeds them with ambrosial food,
And fills their cups with nectared wine;
And all her choristers combine
To sing their welcome from the wood:
And fills their cups with nectared wine;
And all her choristers combine
To sing their welcome from the wood:
And all that love can do is done,
As shown to them in countless ways:
She kindles to a brighter blaze
The fireside of the world—the sun.
As shown to them in countless ways:
She kindles to a brighter blaze
The fireside of the world—the sun.
And with her own soft, trembling hands,
In many a calm and cool retreat,
She laves the dust that soils their feet
In coming from the distant lands.
In many a calm and cool retreat,
She laves the dust that soils their feet
In coming from the distant lands.
Or, leading down some sinuous path,
Where the shy stream's encircling heights
Shut out all prying eyes, invites
Her lily daughters to the bath.
Where the shy stream's encircling heights
Shut out all prying eyes, invites
Her lily daughters to the bath.
There, with a mother's harmless pride,
Admires them sport the waves among:
Now lay their ivory limbs along
The buoyant bosom of the tide.
Admires them sport the waves among:
Now lay their ivory limbs along
The buoyant bosom of the tide.
Now lift their marble shoulders o'er
The rippling glass, or sink with fear,
As if the wind approaching near
Were some wild wooer from the shore.
The rippling glass, or sink with fear,
As if the wind approaching near
Were some wild wooer from the shore.
Or else the parent turns to these,
The younglings born beneath her eye,
And hangs the baby-buds close by,
In wind-rocked cradles from the trees.
The younglings born beneath her eye,
And hangs the baby-buds close by,
In wind-rocked cradles from the trees.
And as the branches fall and rise,
Each leafy-folded swathe expands:
And now are spread their tiny hands,
And now are seen their starry eyes.
Each leafy-folded swathe expands:
And now are spread their tiny hands,
And now are seen their starry eyes.
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But soon the feast concludes the day,
And yonder in the sun-warmed dell,
The happy circle meet to tell
Their labours since the bygone May.
And yonder in the sun-warmed dell,
The happy circle meet to tell
Their labours since the bygone May.
A bright-faced youth is first to raise
His cheerful voice above the rest,
Who bears upon his hardy breast
A golden star with silver rays:
His cheerful voice above the rest,
Who bears upon his hardy breast
A golden star with silver rays:
Worthily won, for he had been
A traveller in many a land,
And with his slender staff in hand
Had wandered over many a green:
A traveller in many a land,
And with his slender staff in hand
Had wandered over many a green:
Had seen the Shepherd Sun unpen
Heaven's fleecy flocks, and let them stray
Over the high-peaked Himalay,
Till night shut up the fold again:
Heaven's fleecy flocks, and let them stray
Over the high-peaked Himalay,
Till night shut up the fold again:
Had sat upon a mossy ledge,
O'er Baiæ in the morning's beams,
Or where the sulphurous crater steams
Had hung suspended from the edge:
O'er Baiæ in the morning's beams,
Or where the sulphurous crater steams
Had hung suspended from the edge:
Or following its devious course
Up many a weary winding mile,
Had tracked the long, mysterious Nile
Even to its now no-fabled source:
Up many a weary winding mile,
Had tracked the long, mysterious Nile
Even to its now no-fabled source:
Resting, perchance, as on he strode,
To see the herded camels pass
Upon the strips of wayside grass
That line with green the dust-white road.
To see the herded camels pass
Upon the strips of wayside grass
That line with green the dust-white road.
Had often closed his weary lids
In oases that deck the waste,
Or in the mighty shadows traced
By the eternal pyramids.
In oases that deck the waste,
Or in the mighty shadows traced
By the eternal pyramids.
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Had slept within an Arab's tent,
Pitched for the night beneath a palm,
Or when was heard the vesper psalm,
With the pale nun in worship bent:
Pitched for the night beneath a palm,
Or when was heard the vesper psalm,
With the pale nun in worship bent:
Or on the moonlit fields of France,
When happy village maidens trod
Lightly the fresh and verdurous sod,
There was he seen amid the dance:
When happy village maidens trod
Lightly the fresh and verdurous sod,
There was he seen amid the dance:
Yielding with sympathizing stem
To the quick feet that round him flew,
Sprang from the ground as they would do,
Or sank unto the earth with them:
To the quick feet that round him flew,
Sprang from the ground as they would do,
Or sank unto the earth with them:
Or, childlike, played with girl and boy
By many a river's bank, and gave
His floating body to the wave,
Full many a time to give them joy.
By many a river's bank, and gave
His floating body to the wave,
Full many a time to give them joy.
These and a thousand other tales
The traveller told, and welcome found;
These were the simple tales went round
The happy circles in the vales.
The traveller told, and welcome found;
These were the simple tales went round
The happy circles in the vales.
Keeping reserved with conscious pride
His noblest act, his crowning feat,
How he had led even Humboldt's feet
Up Chimborazo's mighty side.
His noblest act, his crowning feat,
How he had led even Humboldt's feet
Up Chimborazo's mighty side.
Guiding him through the trackless snow,
By sheltered clefts of living soil,
Sweet'ning the fearless traveller's toil,
With memories of the world below.
By sheltered clefts of living soil,
Sweet'ning the fearless traveller's toil,
With memories of the world below.
Such was the hardy Daisy's tale,
And then the maidens of the group—
Lilies, whose languid heads down droop
Over their pearl-white shoulders pale—
And then the maidens of the group—
Lilies, whose languid heads down droop
Over their pearl-white shoulders pale—
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Told, when the genial glow of June
Had passed, they sought still warmer climes
And took beneath the verdurous limes
Their sweet siesta through the noon:
Had passed, they sought still warmer climes
And took beneath the verdurous limes
Their sweet siesta through the noon:
And seeking still, with fond pursuit,
The phantom Health, which lures and wiles
Its followers to the shores and isles
Of amber waves, and golden fruit.
The phantom Health, which lures and wiles
Its followers to the shores and isles
Of amber waves, and golden fruit.
There they had seen the orange grove
Enwreath its gold with buds of white,
As if themselves had taken flight,
And settled on the boughs above.
Enwreath its gold with buds of white,
As if themselves had taken flight,
And settled on the boughs above.
There kiss'd by every rosy mouth
And press'd to every gentle breast,
These pallid daughters of the West
Reigned in the sunshine of the South.
And press'd to every gentle breast,
These pallid daughters of the West
Reigned in the sunshine of the South.
And thoughtful of the things divine,
Were oft by many an altar found,
Standing like white-robed angels round
The precincts of some sacred shrine.
Were oft by many an altar found,
Standing like white-robed angels round
The precincts of some sacred shrine.
And Violets, with dark blue eyes,
Told how they spent the winter time,
In Andalusia's Eden clime,
Or 'neath Italia's kindred skies.
Told how they spent the winter time,
In Andalusia's Eden clime,
Or 'neath Italia's kindred skies.
Chiefly when evening's golden gloom
Veil'd Rome's serenest ether soft,
Bending in thoughtful musings oft,
Above the lost Alastor's tomb;
Veil'd Rome's serenest ether soft,
Bending in thoughtful musings oft,
Above the lost Alastor's tomb;
Or the twin-poet's; he who sings
“A thing of beauty never dies,”
Paying them back in fragrant sighs,
The love they bore all loveliest things.
“A thing of beauty never dies,”
Paying them back in fragrant sighs,
The love they bore all loveliest things.
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The flower
whose bronzèd cheeks recalls
The incessant beat of wind and sun,
Spoke of the lore his search had won
Upon Pompeii's rescued walls.
The incessant beat of wind and sun,
Spoke of the lore his search had won
Upon Pompeii's rescued walls.
How, in his antiquarian march,
He crossed the tomb-strewn plain of Rome,
Sat on some prostrate plinth, or clomb
The Colosseum's topmost arch.
He crossed the tomb-strewn plain of Rome,
Sat on some prostrate plinth, or clomb
The Colosseum's topmost arch.
And thence beheld in glad amaze
What Nero's guilty eyes, aloof,
Drank in from off his golden roof—
The sun-bright city all ablaze:
What Nero's guilty eyes, aloof,
Drank in from off his golden roof—
The sun-bright city all ablaze:
Ablaze by day with solar fires—
Ablaze by night with lunar beams,
With lambent lustre on its streams,
And golden glories round its spires!
Ablaze by night with lunar beams,
With lambent lustre on its streams,
And golden glories round its spires!
Thence he beheld that wondrous dome,
That, rising o'er the radiant town,
Circles, with Art's eternal crown,
The still imperial brow of Rome.
That, rising o'er the radiant town,
Circles, with Art's eternal crown,
The still imperial brow of Rome.
Nor was the Marigold remiss,
But told how in her crown of gold
She sat, like Persia's king of old,
High o'er the shores of Salamis;
But told how in her crown of gold
She sat, like Persia's king of old,
High o'er the shores of Salamis;
And saw, against the morning sky,
The white-sailed fleets their wings display;
And ere the tranquil close of day,
Fade, like the Persian's from her eye.
The white-sailed fleets their wings display;
And ere the tranquil close of day,
Fade, like the Persian's from her eye.
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Fleets, with their white flags all unfurl'd,
Inscribed with “Commerce,” and with “Peace,”
Bearing no threatened ill to Greece,
But mutual good to all the world.
Inscribed with “Commerce,” and with “Peace,”
Bearing no threatened ill to Greece,
But mutual good to all the world.
And various other flowers were seen:
Cowslip and Oxlip, and the tall
Tulip, whose grateful hearts recall
The winter homes where they had been.
Cowslip and Oxlip, and the tall
Tulip, whose grateful hearts recall
The winter homes where they had been.
Some in the sunny vales, beneath
The sheltering hills; and some, whose eyes
Were gladdened by the southern skies,
High up amid the blooming heath.
The sheltering hills; and some, whose eyes
Were gladdened by the southern skies,
High up amid the blooming heath.
Meek, modest flowers, by poets loved,
Sweet Pansies, with their dark eyes fringed
With silken lashes finely tinged,
That trembled if a leaf but moved:
Sweet Pansies, with their dark eyes fringed
With silken lashes finely tinged,
That trembled if a leaf but moved:
And some in gardens where the grass
Mossed o'er the green quadrangle's breast,
There dwelt each flower, a welcome guest,
In crystal palaces of glass:
Mossed o'er the green quadrangle's breast,
There dwelt each flower, a welcome guest,
In crystal palaces of glass:
Shown as a beauteous wonder there,
By beauty's hands to beauty's eyes,
Breathing what mimic art supplies,
The genial glow of sun-warm air.
By beauty's hands to beauty's eyes,
Breathing what mimic art supplies,
The genial glow of sun-warm air.
Nor were the absent ones forgot,
Those whom a thousand cares detained,
Those whom the links of duty chained
Awhile from this their natal spot.
Those whom a thousand cares detained,
Those whom the links of duty chained
Awhile from this their natal spot.
One, who in labour's useful tracks
Is proudly eminent, who roams
The providence of humble homes—
The blue-eyed, fair-haired, friendly Flax:
Is proudly eminent, who roams
The providence of humble homes—
The blue-eyed, fair-haired, friendly Flax:
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Giving himself to cheer and light
The cottier's else o'ershadowing murk,
Filling his hand with cheerful work,
And all his being with delight:
The cottier's else o'ershadowing murk,
Filling his hand with cheerful work,
And all his being with delight:
And one, the loveliest and the last,
For whom they waited day by day,
All through the merry month of May,
Till one-and-thirty days had passed.
For whom they waited day by day,
All through the merry month of May,
Till one-and-thirty days had passed.
And when, at length, the longed-for noon
Of night arched o'er th' expectant green
The Rose, their sister and their queen—
Came on the joyous wings of June:
Of night arched o'er th' expectant green
The Rose, their sister and their queen—
Came on the joyous wings of June:
And when was heard the gladsome sound,
And when was breath'd her beauteous name,
Unnumbered buds, like lamps of flame,
Gleamed from the hedges all around:
And when was breath'd her beauteous name,
Unnumbered buds, like lamps of flame,
Gleamed from the hedges all around:
Where she had been, the distant clime,
The orient realm their sceptre sways,
The poet's pen may paint and praise
Hereafter in his simple rhyme.
The orient realm their sceptre sways,
The poet's pen may paint and praise
Hereafter in his simple rhyme.
THE PROGRESS OF THE ROSE.
The days of old, the good old days,
Whose misty memories haunt us still,
Demand alike our blame and praise,
And claim their shares of good and ill.
Whose misty memories haunt us still,
Demand alike our blame and praise,
And claim their shares of good and ill.
They had strong faith in things unseen,
But stronger in the things they saw
Revenge for Mercy's pitying mien,
And lordly Right for equal Law.
But stronger in the things they saw
Revenge for Mercy's pitying mien,
And lordly Right for equal Law.
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'Tis true the cloisters all throughout
The valleys rais'd their peaceful towers,
And their sweet bells ne'er wearied out
In telling of the tranquil hours.
The valleys rais'd their peaceful towers,
And their sweet bells ne'er wearied out
In telling of the tranquil hours.
But from the craggy hills above,
A shadow darken'd o'er the sward;
For there—a vulture to this dove—
Hung the rude fortress of the lord;
A shadow darken'd o'er the sward;
For there—a vulture to this dove—
Hung the rude fortress of the lord;
Whence oft the ravening bird of prey
Descending, to his eyry wild
Bore, with exulting cries, away
The powerless serf's dishonour'd child.
Descending, to his eyry wild
Bore, with exulting cries, away
The powerless serf's dishonour'd child.
Then Safety lit with partial beams
But the high-castled peaks of Force,
And Polity revers'd its streams,
And bade them flow but for their Source.
But the high-castled peaks of Force,
And Polity revers'd its streams,
And bade them flow but for their Source.
That Source from which, meandering down,
A thousand streamlets circle now;
For then the monarch's glorious crown
But girt the most rapacious brow.
A thousand streamlets circle now;
For then the monarch's glorious crown
But girt the most rapacious brow.
But individual Force is dead,
And link'd Opinion late takes birth;
And now a woman's gentle head
Supports the mightiest crown on earth.
And link'd Opinion late takes birth;
And now a woman's gentle head
Supports the mightiest crown on earth.
A pleasing type of all the change
Permitted to our eyes to see,
When she herself is free to range
Throughout the realm her rule makes free.
Permitted to our eyes to see,
When she herself is free to range
Throughout the realm her rule makes free.
Not prison'd in a golden cage,
To sigh or sing her lonely state,
A show for youth or doating age,
With idiot eyes to contemplate.
To sigh or sing her lonely state,
A show for youth or doating age,
With idiot eyes to contemplate.
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But when the season sends a thrill
To ev'ry heart that lives and moves,
She seeks the freedom of the hill,
Or shelter of the noontide groves.
To ev'ry heart that lives and moves,
She seeks the freedom of the hill,
Or shelter of the noontide groves.
There, happy with her chosen mate,
And circled by her chirping brood,
Forgets the pain of being great
In the mere bliss of being good.
And circled by her chirping brood,
Forgets the pain of being great
In the mere bliss of being good.
And thus the festive summer yields
No sight more happy, none so gay,
As when amid her subject-fields
She wanders on from day to day.
No sight more happy, none so gay,
As when amid her subject-fields
She wanders on from day to day.
Resembling her, whom proud and fond,
The bard hath sung of—she of old,
Who bore upon her snow-white wand,
All Erin through, the ring of gold.
The bard hath sung of—she of old,
Who bore upon her snow-white wand,
All Erin through, the ring of gold.
Thus, from her castles coming forth,
She wanders many a summer hour,
Bearing the ring of private worth
Upon the silver wand of Power.
She wanders many a summer hour,
Bearing the ring of private worth
Upon the silver wand of Power.
Thus musing, while around me flew
Sweet airs from fancy's amaranth bowers,
Methought, what this fair queen doth do,
Hath yearly done the queen of flowers.
Sweet airs from fancy's amaranth bowers,
Methought, what this fair queen doth do,
Hath yearly done the queen of flowers.
The beateous queen of all the flowers,
Whose faintest sigh is like a spell,
Was born in Eden's sinless bowers
Long ere our primal parents fell.
Whose faintest sigh is like a spell,
Was born in Eden's sinless bowers
Long ere our primal parents fell.
There in a perfect form she grew,
Nor felt decay, nor tasted death;
Heaven was reflected in her hue,
And heaven's own odours filled her breath.
Nor felt decay, nor tasted death;
Heaven was reflected in her hue,
And heaven's own odours filled her breath.
196
And ere the angel of the sword
Drove thence the founders of our race,
They knelt before him, and implor'd
Some relic of that radiant place:
Drove thence the founders of our race,
They knelt before him, and implor'd
Some relic of that radiant place:
Some relic that, while time would last,
Should make men weep their fatal sin;
Proof of the glory that was past,
And type of that they yet might win.
Should make men weep their fatal sin;
Proof of the glory that was past,
And type of that they yet might win.
The angel turn'd, and ere his hands
The gates of bliss for ever close,
Pluck'd from the fairest tree that stands
Within heaven's walls—the peerless rose.
The gates of bliss for ever close,
Pluck'd from the fairest tree that stands
Within heaven's walls—the peerless rose.
And as he gave it unto them,
Let fall a tear upon its leaves—
The same celestial liquid gem
We oft perceive on dewy eves.
Let fall a tear upon its leaves—
The same celestial liquid gem
We oft perceive on dewy eves.
Grateful the hapless twain went forth
The golden portals backward whirl'd,
Then first they felt the biting north,
And all the rigour of this world.
The golden portals backward whirl'd,
Then first they felt the biting north,
And all the rigour of this world.
Then first the dreadful curse had power
To chill the life streams at their source,
Till e'en the sap within the flower
Grew curdled in its upward course.
To chill the life streams at their source,
Till e'en the sap within the flower
Grew curdled in its upward course.
They twin'd their trembling hands across
Their trembling breasts against the drift,
Then sought some little mound of moss
Wherein to lay their precious gift.
Their trembling breasts against the drift,
Then sought some little mound of moss
Wherein to lay their precious gift.
Some little soft and mossy mound,
Wherein the flower might rest till morn;
In vain! God's curse was on the ground,
For through the moss out gleam'd the thorn!
Wherein the flower might rest till morn;
In vain! God's curse was on the ground,
For through the moss out gleam'd the thorn!
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Out gleam'd the forkèd plant, as if
The serpent tempter, in his rage,
Had put his tongue in every leaf
To mock them through their pilgrimage
The serpent tempter, in his rage,
Had put his tongue in every leaf
To mock them through their pilgrimage
They did their best; their hands eras'd
The thorns of greater strength and size;
Then 'mid the softer moss they plac'd
The exiled flower of paradise.
The thorns of greater strength and size;
Then 'mid the softer moss they plac'd
The exiled flower of paradise.
The plant took root; the beams and showers
Came kindly, and its fair head rear'd;
But lo! around its heaven of flowers
The thorns and moss of earth appear'd.
Came kindly, and its fair head rear'd;
But lo! around its heaven of flowers
The thorns and moss of earth appear'd.
Type of the greater change that then
Upon our hapless nature fell,
When the degenerate hearts of men
Bore sin and all the thorns of hell.
Upon our hapless nature fell,
When the degenerate hearts of men
Bore sin and all the thorns of hell.
Happy, indeed, and sweet our pain,
However torn, however tost,
If, like the rose, our hearts retain
Some vestige of the heaven we've lost.
However torn, however tost,
If, like the rose, our hearts retain
Some vestige of the heaven we've lost.
Where she upon this colder sphere
Found shelter first, she there abode;
Her native bowers, unseen were near,
And near her still Euphrates flowed—
Found shelter first, she there abode;
Her native bowers, unseen were near,
And near her still Euphrates flowed—
Brilliantly flow'd; but, ah! how dim,
Compar'd to what its light had been;—
As if the fiery cherubim
Let pass the tide, but kept its sheen.
Compar'd to what its light had been;—
As if the fiery cherubim
Let pass the tide, but kept its sheen.
At first she liv'd and reigned alone,
No lily-maidens yet had birth;
No turban'd tulips round her throne
Bow'd with their foreheads to tl
No lily-maidens yet had birth;
No turban'd tulips round her throne
Bow'd with their foreheads to tl
198
No rival sisters had she yet—
She with the snowy forehead fringed
With blushes; nor the sweet brunette
Whose cheek the yellow sun has ting'd.
She with the snowy forehead fringed
With blushes; nor the sweet brunette
Whose cheek the yellow sun has ting'd.
Nor all the harbingers of May,
Nor all the clustering joys of June:
Uncarpeted the bare earth lay,
Unhung the branches' gay festoon.
Nor all the clustering joys of June:
Uncarpeted the bare earth lay,
Unhung the branches' gay festoon.
But Nature came in kindly mood,
And gave her kindred of her own,
Knowing full well it is not good
For man or flower to be alone.
And gave her kindred of her own,
Knowing full well it is not good
For man or flower to be alone.
Long in her happy court she dwelt,
In floral games and feasts of mirth,
Until her heart kind wishes felt
To share her joy with all the earth.
In floral games and feasts of mirth,
Until her heart kind wishes felt
To share her joy with all the earth.
To go from longing land to land
A stateless queen, a welcome guest,
O'er hill and vale, by sea and strand,
From North to South, and East to West.
A stateless queen, a welcome guest,
O'er hill and vale, by sea and strand,
From North to South, and East to West.
And thus it is that every year,
Ere Autumn dons his russet robe,
She calls her unseen charioteer,
And makes her progress through the globe.
Ere Autumn dons his russet robe,
She calls her unseen charioteer,
And makes her progress through the globe.
First, sharing in the month-long feast—
“The Feast of Roses”—in whose light
And grateful joy, the first and least
Of all her subjects reunite.
“The Feast of Roses”—in whose light
And grateful joy, the first and least
Of all her subjects reunite.
She sends her heralds on before:
The bee rings out his bugle bold,
The daisy spreads her marbled floor,
The buttercup her cloth of gold.
The bee rings out his bugle bold,
The daisy spreads her marbled floor,
The buttercup her cloth of gold.
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The lark leaps up into the sky,
To watch her coming from afar;
The larger moon descends more nigh,
More lingering lags the morning star.
To watch her coming from afar;
The larger moon descends more nigh,
More lingering lags the morning star.
From out the villages and towns,
From all of mankind's mix'd abodes,
The people, by the lawns and downs,
Go meet her on the winding roads.
From all of mankind's mix'd abodes,
The people, by the lawns and downs,
Go meet her on the winding roads.
And some would bear her in their hands,
And some would press her to their breast,
And some would worship where she stands,
And some would claim her as their guest.
And some would press her to their breast,
And some would worship where she stands,
And some would claim her as their guest.
Her gracious smile dispels the gloom
Of many a love-sick girl and boy;
Her very presence in a room
Doth fill the languid air with joy.
Of many a love-sick girl and boy;
Her very presence in a room
Doth fill the languid air with joy.
Her breath is like a fragrant tune,
She is the soul of every spot;
Gives nature to the rich saloon,
And splendour to the peasant's cot.
She is the soul of every spot;
Gives nature to the rich saloon,
And splendour to the peasant's cot.
Her mission is to calm and soothe,
And purely glad life's every stage;
Her garlands grace the brow of youth,
And hide the hollow lines of age.
And purely glad life's every stage;
Her garlands grace the brow of youth,
And hide the hollow lines of age.
But to the poet she belongs,
By immemorial ties of love;—
Herself a folded book of songs,
Dropp'd from the angel's hands above.
By immemorial ties of love;—
Herself a folded book of songs,
Dropp'd from the angel's hands above.
Then come and make his heart thy home,
For thee it opes, for thee it glows;—
Type of ideal beauty, come!
Wonder of Nature! queenly Rose!
For thee it opes, for thee it glows;—
Type of ideal beauty, come!
Wonder of Nature! queenly Rose!
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THE BATH OF THE STREAMS.
Down unto the ocean,
Trembling with emotion,
Panting at the notion,
See the rivers run—
In the golden weather,
Tripping o'er the heather,
Laughing all together—
Madcaps every one.
Trembling with emotion,
Panting at the notion,
See the rivers run—
In the golden weather,
Tripping o'er the heather,
Laughing all together—
Madcaps every one.
Like a troop of girls
In their loosen'd curls,
See, the concourse whirls
Onward wild with glee;
List their tuneful tattle,
Hear their pretty prattle,
How they'll love to battle
With the assailing sea.
In their loosen'd curls,
See, the concourse whirls
Onward wild with glee;
List their tuneful tattle,
Hear their pretty prattle,
How they'll love to battle
With the assailing sea.
See, the winds pursue them,
See, the willows woo them
See, the lakelets view them
Wistfully afar,
With a wistful wonder
Down the green slopes under,
Wishing, too, to thunder
O'er their prison bar.
See, the willows woo them
See, the lakelets view them
Wistfully afar,
With a wistful wonder
Down the green slopes under,
Wishing, too, to thunder
O'er their prison bar.
Wishing, too, to wander
By the sea-waves yonder,
There awhile to sqander
All their silvery stores,
There awhile forgetting
All their vain regretting
When their foam went fretting
Round the rippling shores.
By the sea-waves yonder,
There awhile to sqander
All their silvery stores,
There awhile forgetting
All their vain regretting
When their foam went fretting
Round the rippling shores.
201
Round the rocky region,
Whence their prison'd legion,
Oft and oft besieging,
Vainly sought to break,
Vainly sought to throw them
O'er the vales below them,
Through the clefts that show them
Paths they dare not take.
Whence their prison'd legion,
Oft and oft besieging,
Vainly sought to break,
Vainly sought to throw them
O'er the vales below them,
Through the clefts that show them
Paths they dare not take.
But the swift streams speed them
In the might of freedom,
Down the paths that lead them
Joyously along.
Blinding green recesses
With their floating tresses,
Charming wildernesses
With their murmuring song.
In the might of freedom,
Down the paths that lead them
Joyously along.
Blinding green recesses
With their floating tresses,
Charming wildernesses
With their murmuring song.
Now the streams are gliding
With a sweet abiding—
Now the streams are hiding
'Mid the whispering reeds—
Now the streams outglancing
With a shy advancing
Naiad-like go dancing
Down the golden meads.
With a sweet abiding—
Now the streams are hiding
'Mid the whispering reeds—
Now the streams outglancing
With a shy advancing
Naiad-like go dancing
Down the golden meads.
Down the golden meadows,
Chasing their own shadows—
Down the golden meadows,
Playing as they run:
Playing with the sedges,
By the water's edges,
Leaping o'er the ledges,
Glist'ning in the sun.
Chasing their own shadows—
Down the golden meadows,
Playing as they run:
Playing with the sedges,
By the water's edges,
Leaping o'er the ledges,
Glist'ning in the sun.
Streams and streamlets blending,
Each on each attending,
All together wending,
Seek the silver sands:
Like to sisters holding
With a fond enfolding—
Like to sisters holding
One another's hands.
Each on each attending,
All together wending,
Seek the silver sands:
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With a fond enfolding—
Like to sisters holding
One another's hands.
Now with foreheads blushing
With a rapturous flushing—
Now the streams are rushing
In among the waves.
Now in shy confusion,
With a pale suffusion,
Seek the wild seclusion
Of sequestered caves.
With a rapturous flushing—
Now the streams are rushing
In among the waves.
Now in shy confusion,
With a pale suffusion,
Seek the wild seclusion
Of sequestered caves.
All the summer hours
Hiding in the bowers,
Scattering silver showers
Out upon the strand;
O'er the pebbles crashing,
Through the ripples splashing,
Liquid pearl-wreaths dashing
From each other's hand.
Hiding in the bowers,
Scattering silver showers
Out upon the strand;
O'er the pebbles crashing,
Through the ripples splashing,
Liquid pearl-wreaths dashing
From each other's hand.
By yon mossy boulder,
See an ivory shoulder,
Dazzling the beholder,
Rises o'er the blue;
But a moment's thinking,
Sends the Naiad sinking,
With a modest shrinking,
From the gazer's view.
See an ivory shoulder,
Dazzling the beholder,
Rises o'er the blue;
But a moment's thinking,
Sends the Naiad sinking,
With a modest shrinking,
From the gazer's view.
Now the wave compresses
All their golden tresses—
Now their sea-green dresses
Float them o'er the tide;
Now with elf-locks dripping
From the brine they're sipping,
With a fairy tripping,
Down the green waves glide.
All their golden tresses—
Now their sea-green dresses
Float them o'er the tide;
Now with elf-locks dripping
From the brine they're sipping,
With a fairy tripping,
Down the green waves glide.
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Some that scarce have tarried
By the shore are carried
Sea-ward to be married
To the glad gods there:
Triton's horn is playing,
Neptune's steeds are neighing,
Restless with delaying
For a bride so fair.
By the shore are carried
Sea-ward to be married
To the glad gods there:
Triton's horn is playing,
Neptune's steeds are neighing,
Restless with delaying
For a bride so fair.
See at first the river
How its pale lips quiver,
How its white waves shiver
With a fond unrest;
List how low it sigheth,
See how swift it flieth,
Till at length it lieth
On the ocean's breast.
How its pale lips quiver,
How its white waves shiver
With a fond unrest;
List how low it sigheth,
See how swift it flieth,
Till at length it lieth
On the ocean's breast.
Such is Youth's admiring,
Such is Love's desiring,
Such is Hope's aspiring
For the higher goal;
Such is man's condition
Till in heaven's fruition
Ends the mystic mission
Of the eternal soul.
Such is Love's desiring,
Such is Hope's aspiring
For the higher goal;
Such is man's condition
Till in heaven's fruition
Ends the mystic mission
Of the eternal soul.
THE FLOWERS OF THE TROPICS.
“C'est ainsi que la nature a mis, entre les tropiques, la plupart
des fleurs apparentes sur des arbres. J'y en ai vu bien peu dans
les prairies, mais beaucoup dans les forets. Dans ces pays, il
faut lever les yeux en haut pour y voir des fleurs; dans le notre,
il faut les baisser à terre.”—Saint Pierre, Etudes de la Nature.
In the soft sunny regions that circle the waist
Of the globe with a girdle of topaz and gold,
Which heave with the throbbings of life where they're placed,
And glow with the fire of the heart they enfold;
Where to live, where to breathe, seems a paradise dream—
A dream of some world more elysian than this—
Where, if Death and if Sin were away, it would seem
Not the foretaste alone, but the fulness of bliss.
Of the globe with a girdle of topaz and gold,
Which heave with the throbbings of life where they're placed,
And glow with the fire of the heart they enfold;
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A dream of some world more elysian than this—
Where, if Death and if Sin were away, it would seem
Not the foretaste alone, but the fulness of bliss.
Where all that can gladden the sense and the sight,
Fresh fruitage as cool and as crimson as even;
Where the richness and rankness of Nature unite
To build the frail walls of the Sybarite's heaven.
But, ah! should the heart feel the desolate dearth
Of some purer enjoyment to speed the bright hours,
In vain through the leafy luxuriance of earth
Looks the languid-lit eye for the freshness of flowers.
Fresh fruitage as cool and as crimson as even;
Where the richness and rankness of Nature unite
To build the frail walls of the Sybarite's heaven.
But, ah! should the heart feel the desolate dearth
Of some purer enjoyment to speed the bright hours,
In vain through the leafy luxuriance of earth
Looks the languid-lit eye for the freshness of flowers.
No, its glance must be turned from the earth to the sky,
From the clay-rooted grass to the heaven-branching trees;
And there, oh! enchantment for soul and for eye,
Hang blossoms so pure that an angel might seize.
Thus, when pleasure begins from its sweetness to cloy,
And the warm heart grows rank like a soil over ripe,
We must turn from the earth for some promise of joy,
And look up to heaven for a holier type.
From the clay-rooted grass to the heaven-branching trees;
And there, oh! enchantment for soul and for eye,
Hang blossoms so pure that an angel might seize.
Thus, when pleasure begins from its sweetness to cloy,
And the warm heart grows rank like a soil over ripe,
We must turn from the earth for some promise of joy,
And look up to heaven for a holier type.
In the climes of the North, which alternately shine,
Now warm with the sunbeam, now white with the snow,
And which, like the breast of the earth they entwine.
Grow chill with its chillness, or glow with its glow,
In those climes where the soul, on more vigorous wing,
Rises soaring to heaven in its rapturous flight,
And, led ever on by the radiance they fling,
Tracketh star after star through infinitude's night.
Now warm with the sunbeam, now white with the snow,
And which, like the breast of the earth they entwine.
Grow chill with its chillness, or glow with its glow,
In those climes where the soul, on more vigorous wing,
Rises soaring to heaven in its rapturous flight,
And, led ever on by the radiance they fling,
Tracketh star after star through infinitude's night.
How oft doth the seer from his watch-tower on high.
Scan the depths of the heavens with his wonderful glass;
And, like Adam of old, when Earth's creatures went by,
Name the orbs and the sun-lighted spheres as they pass.
How often, when drooping, and weary, and worn,
With fire-throbbing temples and star-dazzled eyes,
Does he turn from his glass at the breaking of morn,
And exchanges for flowers all the wealth of the skies?
Scan the depths of the heavens with his wonderful glass;
And, like Adam of old, when Earth's creatures went by,
Name the orbs and the sun-lighted spheres as they pass.
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With fire-throbbing temples and star-dazzled eyes,
Does he turn from his glass at the breaking of morn,
And exchanges for flowers all the wealth of the skies?
Ah! thus should we mingle the far and the near,
And, while striving to pierce what the Godhead conceals,
From the far heights of Science look down with a fear
To the lowliest truths the same Godhead reveals.
When the rich fruit of Joy glads the heart and the mouth,
Or the bold wing of Thought leads the daring soul forth;
Let us proudly look up as for flowers of the south,
Let us humbly look down as for flowers of the north.
And, while striving to pierce what the Godhead conceals,
From the far heights of Science look down with a fear
To the lowliest truths the same Godhead reveals.
When the rich fruit of Joy glads the heart and the mouth,
Or the bold wing of Thought leads the daring soul forth;
Let us proudly look up as for flowers of the south,
Let us humbly look down as for flowers of the north.
THE YEAR-KING.
It is the last of all the days,
The day on which the Old Year dies.
Ah! yes, the fated hour is near;
I see upon his snow-white bier
Outstretched the weary wanderer lies,
And mark his dying gaze.
The day on which the Old Year dies.
Ah! yes, the fated hour is near;
I see upon his snow-white bier
Outstretched the weary wanderer lies,
And mark his dying gaze.
A thousand visions dark and fair,
Crowd on the old man's fading sight;
A thousand mingled memories throng
The old man's heart, still green and strong;
The heritage of wrong and right
He leaves unto his heir.
Crowd on the old man's fading sight;
A thousand mingled memories throng
The old man's heart, still green and strong;
The heritage of wrong and right
He leaves unto his heir.
He thinks upon his budding hopes,
The day he stood the world's young king,
Upon his coronation morn,
When diamonds hung on every thorn,
And peeped the pearl flowers of the spring
Adown the emerald slopes.
The day he stood the world's young king,
Upon his coronation morn,
When diamonds hung on every thorn,
And peeped the pearl flowers of the spring
Adown the emerald slopes.
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He thinks upon his youthful pride,
When in his ermined cloak of snow,
Upon his war-horse, stout and staunch—
The cataract-crested avalanche—
He thundered on the rocks below,
With his warriors at his side.
When in his ermined cloak of snow,
Upon his war-horse, stout and staunch—
The cataract-crested avalanche—
He thundered on the rocks below,
With his warriors at his side.
From rock to rock, through cloven scalp,
By rivers rushing to the sea,
With thunderous sound his army wound
The heaven supporting hills around;
Like that the Man of Destiny
Led down the astonished Alp.
By rivers rushing to the sea,
With thunderous sound his army wound
The heaven supporting hills around;
Like that the Man of Destiny
Led down the astonished Alp.
The bugles of the blast rang out,
The banners of the lightning swung,
The icy spear-points of the pine
Bristled along the advancing line,
And as the winds' reveillé rung,
Heavens! how the hills did shout.
The banners of the lightning swung,
The icy spear-points of the pine
Bristled along the advancing line,
And as the winds' reveillé rung,
Heavens! how the hills did shout.
Adown each slippery precipice
Rattled the loosen'd rocks, like balls
Shot from his booming thunder guns,
Whose smoke, effacing stars and suns,
Darkens the stifled heaven, and falls
Far off in arrowy showers of ice.
Rattled the loosen'd rocks, like balls
Shot from his booming thunder guns,
Whose smoke, effacing stars and suns,
Darkens the stifled heaven, and falls
Far off in arrowy showers of ice.
Ah! yes, he was a mighty king,
A mighty king, full flushed with youth;
He cared not then what ruin lay
Upon his desolating way;
Not his the cause of God or Truth,
But the brute lust of conquering.
A mighty king, full flushed with youth;
He cared not then what ruin lay
Upon his desolating way;
Not his the cause of God or Truth,
But the brute lust of conquering.
Nought could resist his mighty will,
The green grass withered where he stood;
His ruthless hands were prompt to seize
Upon the tresses of the trees;
Then shrieked the maidens of the wood,
And the saplings of the hill.
The green grass withered where he stood;
His ruthless hands were prompt to seize
Upon the tresses of the trees;
Then shrieked the maidens of the wood,
And the saplings of the hill.
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Nought could resist his mighty will;
For in his ranks rode spectral Death;
The old expired through very fear;
And pined the young, when he came near;
The faintest flutter of his breath
Was sharp enough to kill.
For in his ranks rode spectral Death;
The old expired through very fear;
And pined the young, when he came near;
The faintest flutter of his breath
Was sharp enough to kill.
Nought could resist his mighty will;
The flowers fell dead beneath his tread;
The streams of life, that through the plains
Throb night and day through crystal veins,
With feverish pulses frighten'd fled,
Or curdled, and grew still.
The flowers fell dead beneath his tread;
The streams of life, that through the plains
Throb night and day through crystal veins,
With feverish pulses frighten'd fled,
Or curdled, and grew still.
Nought could resist his mighty will;
On rafts of ice, blue-hued, like steel,
He crossed the broadest rivers o'er
Ah! me, and then was heard no more
The murmur of the peaceful wheel
That turned the peasant's mill.
On rafts of ice, blue-hued, like steel,
He crossed the broadest rivers o'er
Ah! me, and then was heard no more
The murmur of the peaceful wheel
That turned the peasant's mill.
But why the evil that attends
On War recall to further view?
Accursèd War!—the world too well
Knows what thou art—thou fiend of hell!
The heartless havoc of a few
For their own selfish ends!
On War recall to further view?
Accursèd War!—the world too well
Knows what thou art—thou fiend of hell!
The heartless havoc of a few
For their own selfish ends!
Soon, soon the youthful conqueror
Felt moved, and bade the horrors cease;
Nature resumed its ancient sway,
Warm tears rolled down the cheeks of Day,
And Spring, the harbinger of peace
Proclaimed the fight was o'er.
Felt moved, and bade the horrors cease;
Nature resumed its ancient sway,
Warm tears rolled down the cheeks of Day,
And Spring, the harbinger of peace
Proclaimed the fight was o'er.
Oh! what a change came o'er the world;
The winds, that cut like naked swords,
Shed balm upon the wounds they made;
And they who came the first to aid
The foray of grim Winter's hordes
The flag of gruce unfurled.
The winds, that cut like naked swords,
Shed balm upon the wounds they made;
And they who came the first to aid
The foray of grim Winter's hordes
The flag of gruce unfurled.
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Oh! how the song of joy, the sound
Of rapture thrills the leaguered camps
The tinkling showers like cymbals clash
Upon the late leaves of the ash,
And blossoms hang like festal lamps
On all the trees around.
Of rapture thrills the leaguered camps
The tinkling showers like cymbals clash
Upon the late leaves of the ash,
And blossoms hang like festal lamps
On all the trees around.
And there is sunshine, sent to strew
God's cloth of gold, whereon may dance,
To music that harmonious moves,
The linkèd Graces and the Loves,
Making reality romance,
And rare romance even more than true.
God's cloth of gold, whereon may dance,
To music that harmonious moves,
The linkèd Graces and the Loves,
Making reality romance,
And rare romance even more than true.
The fields laughed out in dimpling flowers,
The streams' blue eyes flashed bright with smiles;
The pale-faced clouds turned rosy-red,
As they looked down from overhead,
Then fled o'er continents and isles,
To shed their happy tears in showers.
The streams' blue eyes flashed bright with smiles;
The pale-faced clouds turned rosy-red,
As they looked down from overhead,
Then fled o'er continents and isles,
To shed their happy tears in showers.
The youthful monarch's heart grew light
To find what joy good deeds can shed;
To nurse the orphan buds that bent
Over each turf-piled monument,
Wherein the parent flowers lay dead
Who perished iu that fight.
To find what joy good deeds can shed;
To nurse the orphan buds that bent
Over each turf-piled monument,
Wherein the parent flowers lay dead
Who perished iu that fight.
And as he roamed from day to day,
Atoning thus to flower and tree,
Flinging his lavish gold around
In countless yellow flowers, he found,
By gladsome-weeping April's knee,
The modest maiden May.
Atoning thus to flower and tree,
Flinging his lavish gold around
In countless yellow flowers, he found,
By gladsome-weeping April's knee,
The modest maiden May.
Oh! she was young as angels are,
Ere the eternal youth they lead
Gives any clue to tell the hours
They've spent in heaven's elysian bowers
Ere God before their eyes decreed
The birth-day of some beauteous star.
Ere the eternal youth they lead
Gives any clue to tell the hours
They've spent in heaven's elysian bowers
Ere God before their eyes decreed
The birth-day of some beauteous star.
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Oh! she was fair as are the leaves
Of pale white roses, when the light
Of sunset, through some trembling bough,
Kisses the queen-flower's blushing brow,
Nor leaves it red nor marble white,
But rosy-pale, like April eves.
Of pale white roses, when the light
Of sunset, through some trembling bough,
Kisses the queen-flower's blushing brow,
Nor leaves it red nor marble white,
But rosy-pale, like April eves.
Her eyes were like forget-me-nots,
Dropped in the silvery snowdrop's cup,
Or on the folded myrtle buds,
The azure violet of the woods;
Just as the thirsty sun drinks up
The dewy diamonds on the plots.
Dropped in the silvery snowdrop's cup,
Or on the folded myrtle buds,
The azure violet of the woods;
Just as the thirsty sun drinks up
The dewy diamonds on the plots.
And her sweet breath was like the sighs
Breathed by a babe of youth and love;
When all the fragrance of the south
From the cleft cherry of its mouth,
Meets the fond lips that from above
Stoop to caress its slumbering eyes.
Breathed by a babe of youth and love;
When all the fragrance of the south
From the cleft cherry of its mouth,
Meets the fond lips that from above
Stoop to caress its slumbering eyes.
He took the maiden by the hand,
And led her in her simple gown
Unto a hamlet's peaceful scene,
Upraised her standard on the green;
And crowned her with a rosy crown
The beauteous Queen of all the land.
And led her in her simple gown
Unto a hamlet's peaceful scene,
Upraised her standard on the green;
And crowned her with a rosy crown
The beauteous Queen of all the land.
And happy was the maiden's reign—
For peace, and mirth, and twin-born love
Came forth from out men's hearts that day,
Their gladsome fealty to pay;
And there was music in the grove,
And dancing on the plain.
For peace, and mirth, and twin-born love
Came forth from out men's hearts that day,
Their gladsome fealty to pay;
And there was music in the grove,
And dancing on the plain.
And Labour carolled at his task,
Like the blithe bird that sings and builds
His happy household 'mid the leaves;
And now the fibrous twig he weaves,
And now he sings to her who gilds
The sole horizon he doth ask.
Like the blithe bird that sings and builds
His happy household 'mid the leaves;
And now the fibrous twig he weaves,
And now he sings to her who gilds
The sole horizon he doth ask.
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And Sickness half forgot its pain,
And Sorrow half forgot its grief;
And Eld forgot that it was old,
As if to show the age of gold
Was not the poet's fond belief,
But every year comes back again.
And Sorrow half forgot its grief;
And Eld forgot that it was old,
As if to show the age of gold
Was not the poet's fond belief,
But every year comes back again.
The Year-King passed along his way:
Rejoiced, rewarded, and content;
He passed to distant lands and new;
For other tasks he had to do;
But wheresoe'er the wanderer went,
He ne'er forgot his darling May.
Rejoiced, rewarded, and content;
He passed to distant lands and new;
For other tasks he had to do;
But wheresoe'er the wanderer went,
He ne'er forgot his darling May.
He sent her stems of living gold
From the rich plains of western lands,
And purple-gushing grapes from vines
Born of the amorous sun that shines
Where Tagus rolls its golden sands,
Or Guadaleté old.
From the rich plains of western lands,
And purple-gushing grapes from vines
Born of the amorous sun that shines
Where Tagus rolls its golden sands,
Or Guadaleté old.
And citrons from Firenze's fields,
And golden apples from the isles
That gladden the bright southern seas,
True home of the Hesperides:
Which now no dragon guards, but smiles,
The bounteous mother, as she yields.
And golden apples from the isles
That gladden the bright southern seas,
True home of the Hesperides:
Which now no dragon guards, but smiles,
The bounteous mother, as she yields.
And then the king grew old like Lear—
His blood waxed chill, his beard grew gray;
He changed his sceptre for a staff:
And as the thoughtless children laugh
To see him totter on his way,
He knew his destined hour was near.
His blood waxed chill, his beard grew gray;
He changed his sceptre for a staff:
And as the thoughtless children laugh
To see him totter on his way,
He knew his destined hour was near.
And soon it came; and here he strives,
Outstretched upon his snow-white bier,
To reconcile the dread account—
How stands the balance, what the amount
As we shall do with trembling fear
When our last hour arrives.
Outstretched upon his snow-white bier,
To reconcile the dread account—
How stands the balance, what the amount
As we shall do with trembling fear
When our last hour arrives.
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Come, let us kneel around his bed,
And pray unto his God and ours
For mercy on his servant here:
Oh, God be with the dying year!
And God be with the happy hours
That died before their sire lay dead!
And pray unto his God and ours
For mercy on his servant here:
Oh, God be with the dying year!
And God be with the happy hours
That died before their sire lay dead!
And as the bells commingling ring
The New Year in, the Old Year out,
Muffled and sad, and now in peals
With which the quivering belfry reels,
Grateful and hopeful be the shout,
The King is dead!—Long live the King!
The New Year in, the Old Year out,
Muffled and sad, and now in peals
With which the quivering belfry reels,
Grateful and hopeful be the shout,
The King is dead!—Long live the King!
THE AWAKING.
A lady came to a snow-white bier,
Where a youth lay pale and dead:
She took the veil from her widowed head,
And, bending low, in his ear she said:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
Where a youth lay pale and dead:
She took the veil from her widowed head,
And, bending low, in his ear she said:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
She pass'd with a smile to a wild wood near,
Where the boughs were barren and bare;
She tapp'd on the bark with her fingers fair,
And call'd to the leaves that were buried there.
“Awaken! for I am here.”
Where the boughs were barren and bare;
She tapp'd on the bark with her fingers fair,
And call'd to the leaves that were buried there.
“Awaken! for I am here.”
The birds beheld her without a fear
As she walk'd through the dank-moss'd dells;
She breathed on their downy citadels,
And whisper'd the young in their ivory shells:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
As she walk'd through the dank-moss'd dells;
She breathed on their downy citadels,
And whisper'd the young in their ivory shells:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
On the graves of the flowers she dropp'd a tear,
But with hope and with joy, like us;
And even as the Lord to Lazarus,
She call'd to the slumbering sweet flowers thus:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
But with hope and with joy, like us;
And even as the Lord to Lazarus,
She call'd to the slumbering sweet flowers thus:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
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To the lilies that lay in the silver mere,
To the reeds by the golden pond;
To the moss by the rounded marge beyond,
She spoke with her voice so soft and fond:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
To the reeds by the golden pond;
To the moss by the rounded marge beyond,
She spoke with her voice so soft and fond:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
The violet peep'd, with its blue eye clear,
From under its own gravestone;
For the blessed tidings around had flown,
And before she spoke the impulse was known
“Awaken! for I am here.”
From under its own gravestone;
For the blessed tidings around had flown,
And before she spoke the impulse was known
“Awaken! for I am here.”
The pale grass lay with its long looks sere
On the breast of the open plain;
She loosened the matted hair of the slain,
And cried, as she filled each juicy vein:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
On the breast of the open plain;
She loosened the matted hair of the slain,
And cried, as she filled each juicy vein:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
The rush rose up with its pointed spear
The flag, with its falchion broad;
The dock uplifted its shield unawed,
As her voice rung over the quickening sod:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
The flag, with its falchion broad;
The dock uplifted its shield unawed,
As her voice rung over the quickening sod:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
The red blood ran through the clover near,
And the heath on the hills o'erhead;
The daisy's fingers were tipp'd with red,
As she started to life, when the lady said:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
And the heath on the hills o'erhead;
The daisy's fingers were tipp'd with red,
As she started to life, when the lady said:
“Awaken! for I am here.”
And the young Year rose from his snow-white bier,
And the flowers from their green retreat;
And they came and knelt at the lady's feet,
Saying all, with their mingled voices sweet:
“O lady! behold us here.”
And the flowers from their green retreat;
And they came and knelt at the lady's feet,
Saying all, with their mingled voices sweet:
“O lady! behold us here.”
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THE RESURRECTION.
The day of wintry wrath is o'er,
The whirlwind and the storm have pass'd,
The whiten'd ashes of the snow
Enwrap the ruined world no more;
Nor keenly from the orient blow
The venom'd hissings of the blast.
The whirlwind and the storm have pass'd,
The whiten'd ashes of the snow
Enwrap the ruined world no more;
Nor keenly from the orient blow
The venom'd hissings of the blast.
The frozen tear-drops of despair
Have melted from the trembling thorn;
Hope plumes unseen her radiant wing,
And lo! amid the expectant air,
The trumpet of the angel Spring
Proclaims the resurrection morn.
Have melted from the trembling thorn;
Hope plumes unseen her radiant wing,
And lo! amid the expectant air,
The trumpet of the angel Spring
Proclaims the resurrection morn.
Oh! what a wave of gladsome sound
Runs rippling round the shores of space,
As the requicken'd earth upheaves
The swelling bosom of the ground,
And Death's cold pallor, startled, leaves
The deepening roses of her face.
Runs rippling round the shores of space,
As the requicken'd earth upheaves
The swelling bosom of the ground,
And Death's cold pallor, startled, leaves
The deepening roses of her face.
Up from their graves the dead arise—
The dead and buried flowers of spring;—
Up from their graves in glad amaze,
Once more to view the long-lost skies,
Resplendent with the dazzling rays
Of their great coming Lord and King.
The dead and buried flowers of spring;—
Up from their graves in glad amaze,
Once more to view the long-lost skies,
Resplendent with the dazzling rays
Of their great coming Lord and King.
And lo! even like that mightiest one,
In the world's last and awful hour,
Surrounded by the starry seven,
So comes God's greatest work, the sun
Upborne upon the clouds of heaven,
In pomp, and majesty, and power.
In the world's last and awful hour,
Surrounded by the starry seven,
So comes God's greatest work, the sun
Upborne upon the clouds of heaven,
In pomp, and majesty, and power.
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The virgin snowdrop bends its head
Above its grave in grateful prayer;
The daisy lifts its radiant brow,
With a saint's glory round it shed;
The violet's worth, unhidden now,
Is wafted wide by every air.
Above its grave in grateful prayer;
The daisy lifts its radiant brow,
With a saint's glory round it shed;
The violet's worth, unhidden now,
Is wafted wide by every air.
The parent stem reclasps once more
Its long-lost severed buds and leaves;
Once more the tender tendrils twine
Around the forms they clasped of yore
The very rain is now a sign
Great Nature's heart no longer grieves.
Its long-lost severed buds and leaves;
Once more the tender tendrils twine
Around the forms they clasped of yore
The very rain is now a sign
Great Nature's heart no longer grieves.
And now the judgment-hour arrives,
And now their final doom they know;
No dreadful doom is theirs whose birth
Was not more stainless than their lives;
'Tis Goodness calls them from the earth,
And Mercy tells them where to go.
And now their final doom they know;
No dreadful doom is theirs whose birth
Was not more stainless than their lives;
'Tis Goodness calls them from the earth,
And Mercy tells them where to go.
Some of them fly with glad accord,
Obedient to the high behest,
To worship with their fragrant breath
Around the altars of the Lord;
And some, from nothingness and death,
Pass to the heaven of beauty's breast.
Obedient to the high behest,
To worship with their fragrant breath
Around the altars of the Lord;
And some, from nothingness and death,
Pass to the heaven of beauty's breast.
Oh, let the simple fancy be
Prophetic of our final doom;
Grant us, O Lord, when from the sod
Thou deign'st to call us too, that we
Pass to the bosom of our God
From the dark nothing of the tomb!
Prophetic of our final doom;
Grant us, O Lord, when from the sod
Thou deign'st to call us too, that we
Pass to the bosom of our God
From the dark nothing of the tomb!
THE FIRST OF THE ANGELS.
Hush! hush! through the azure expanse of the sky
Comes a low, gentle sound, 'twixt a laugh and a sigh;
And I rise from my writing, and look up on high,
And I kneel, for the first of God's angels is nigh!
Comes a low, gentle sound, 'twixt a laugh and a sigh;
And I rise from my writing, and look up on high,
And I kneel, for the first of God's angels is nigh!
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Oh, how to describe what my rapt eyes descry!
For the blue of the sky is the blue of his eye;
And the white clouds, whose whiteness the snowflakes outvie,
Are the luminous pinions on which he doth fly!
For the blue of the sky is the blue of his eye;
And the white clouds, whose whiteness the snowflakes outvie,
Are the luminous pinions on which he doth fly!
And his garments of gold gleam at times like the pyre
Of the west, when the sun in a blaze doth expire;
Now tinged like the orange, now flaming with fire!
Half the crimson of roses and purple of Tyre.
Of the west, when the sun in a blaze doth expire;
Now tinged like the orange, now flaming with fire!
Half the crimson of roses and purple of Tyre.
And his voice, on whose accents the angels have hung,
He himself a bright angel, immortal and young,
Scatters melody sweeter the green buds among
Than the poet e'er wrote, or the nightingale sung.
He himself a bright angel, immortal and young,
Scatters melody sweeter the green buds among
Than the poet e'er wrote, or the nightingale sung.
It comes on the balm-bearing breath of the breeze,
And the odours that later will gladden the bees,
With a life and a freshness united to these,
From the rippling of waters and rustling of trees.
And the odours that later will gladden the bees,
With a life and a freshness united to these,
From the rippling of waters and rustling of trees.
Like a swan to its young o'er the glass of a pond,
So to earth comes the angel, as graceful and fond;
While a bright beam of sunshine—his magical wand,
Strikesthe fields at my feet, and the mountains beyond.
So to earth comes the angel, as graceful and fond;
While a bright beam of sunshine—his magical wand,
Strikesthe fields at my feet, and the mountains beyond.
They waken—they start into life at a bound—
Flowers climb the tall hillocks, and cover the ground
With a nimbus of glory the mountains are crown'd,
As the rivulets rush to the ocean profound.
Flowers climb the tall hillocks, and cover the ground
With a nimbus of glory the mountains are crown'd,
As the rivulets rush to the ocean profound.
There is life on the earth, there is calm on the sea,
And the rough waves are smoothed, and the frozen are free;
And they gambol and ramble like boys, in their glee,
Round the shell-shining strand or the grass-bearing; lea.
And the rough waves are smoothed, and the frozen are free;
And they gambol and ramble like boys, in their glee,
Round the shell-shining strand or the grass-bearing; lea.
216
There is love for the young, there is life for the old,
And wealth for the needy, and heat for the cold;
For the dew scatters, nightly, its diamonds untold,
And the snowdrop its silver, the crocus its gold!
And wealth for the needy, and heat for the cold;
For the dew scatters, nightly, its diamonds untold,
And the snowdrop its silver, the crocus its gold!
God!—whose goodness and greatness we bless and adore—
Be Thou praised for this angel—the first of the four—
To whose charge Thou has given the world's uttermost shore,
To guide it, and guard it, till time is no more!
Be Thou praised for this angel—the first of the four—
To whose charge Thou has given the world's uttermost shore,
To guide it, and guard it, till time is no more!
SPIRIT VOICES
There are voices, spirit voices,
Sweetly sounding everywhere,
At whose coming earth rejoices,
And the echoing realms of air,
And their joy and jubilation
Pierce the near and reach the far,
From the rapid world's gyration
To the twinkling of the star.
Sweetly sounding everywhere,
At whose coming earth rejoices,
And the echoing realms of air,
And their joy and jubilation
Pierce the near and reach the far,
From the rapid world's gyration
To the twinkling of the star.
One, a potent voice uplifting,
Stops the white cloud on its way,
As it drives with driftless drifting
O'er the vacant vault of day,
And in sounds of soft upbraiding
Calls it down the void inane
To the gilding and the shading
Of the mountain and the plain.
Stops the white cloud on its way,
As it drives with driftless drifting
O'er the vacant vault of day,
And in sounds of soft upbraiding
Calls it down the void inane
To the gilding and the shading
Of the mountain and the plain.
Airy offspring of the fountains,
To thy destined duty sail,
Seek it on the proudest mountains,
Seek it in the humblest vale;
Howsoever high thou fliest,
How so deep it bids thee go,
Be a beacon to the highest
And a blessing to the low.
To thy destined duty sail,
Seek it on the proudest mountains,
Seek it in the humblest vale;
Howsoever high thou fliest,
How so deep it bids thee go,
Be a beacon to the highest
And a blessing to the low.
217
When the sad earth, broken-hearted,
Hath not even a tear to shed,
And her very soul seems parted
For her children lying dead,
Send the streams with warmer pulses
Through that frozen fount of fears,
And the sorrow that convulses,
Soothe and soften down to tears.
Hath not even a tear to shed,
And her very soul seems parted
For her children lying dead,
Send the streams with warmer pulses
Through that frozen fount of fears,
And the sorrow that convulses,
Soothe and soften down to tears.
Bear the sunshine and the shadow,
Bear the rain-drop and the snow,
Bear the night-dew to the meadow,
And to hope the promised bow,
Bear the moon, a moving mirror
For her angel face and form,
Bear to guilt the flashing terror
Of the lightning and the storm.
Bear the rain-drop and the snow,
Bear the night-dew to the meadow,
And to hope the promised bow,
Bear the moon, a moving mirror
For her angel face and form,
Bear to guilt the flashing terror
Of the lightning and the storm.
When thou thus hast done thy duty
On the earth and o'er the sea,
Bearing many a beam of beauty,
Ever bettering what must be,
Thus reflecting heaven's pure splendour
And concealing ruined clay,
Up to God thy spirit render,
And dissolving pass away.
On the earth and o'er the sea,
Bearing many a beam of beauty,
Ever bettering what must be,
Thus reflecting heaven's pure splendour
And concealing ruined clay,
Up to God thy spirit render,
And dissolving pass away.
And with fond solicitation,
Speaks another to the streams—
Leave your airy isolation,
Quit the cloudy land of dreams,
Break the lonely peak's attraction,
Burst the solemn, silent glen,
Seek the living world of action
And the busy haunts of men.
Speaks another to the streams—
Leave your airy isolation,
Quit the cloudy land of dreams,
Break the lonely peak's attraction,
Burst the solemn, silent glen,
Seek the living world of action
And the busy haunts of men.
Turn the mill-wheel with thy fingers,
Turn the steam-wheel with thy breath,
With thy tide that never lingers
Save the dying fields from death;
Let the swiftness of thy currents
Bear to man the freight-fill'd ship,
And the crystal of thy torrents
Bring refreshment to his lip.
Turn the steam-wheel with thy breath,
With thy tide that never lingers
Save the dying fields from death;
218
Bear to man the freight-fill'd ship,
And the crystal of thy torrents
Bring refreshment to his lip.
And when thou, O rapid river,
Thy eternal home dost seek,
When no more the willows quiver
But to touch thy passing cheek,
When the groves no longer greet thee
And the shore no longer kiss,
Let infinitude come meet thee
On the verge of the abyss.
Thy eternal home dost seek,
When no more the willows quiver
But to touch thy passing cheek,
When the groves no longer greet thee
And the shore no longer kiss,
Let infinitude come meet thee
On the verge of the abyss.
Other voices seek to win us—
Low, suggestive, like the rest—
But the sweetest is within us
In the stillness of the breast;
Be it ours, with fond desiring,
The same harvest to prodnce,
As the cloud in its aspiring
And the river in its use.
Low, suggestive, like the rest—
But the sweetest is within us
In the stillness of the breast;
Be it ours, with fond desiring,
The same harvest to prodnce,
As the cloud in its aspiring
And the river in its use.
| Poems | |