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Title: Poems
Author: Clarence Cook
Release date: September 17, 2016 [eBook #53072]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ***
POEMS
OF
CLARENCE COOK
CLARENCE C. COOK
AT THE AGE OF 36
FROM A PEN-AND-INK DRAWING MADE IN 1864
BY THOMAS C. FARRAR, PUPIL OF JOHN RUSKIN
POEMS
BY
CLARENCE COOK
NEW YORK
1902
COPYRIGHT, 1902
BY LOUISA W. COOK
PRIVATELY PRINTED
AT THE GILLISS PRESS, NEW YORK
FOR LOUISA W. COOK
AND HER FRIENDS
1902
THIS LITTLE VOLUME
OF PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED VERSES
BY THE LATE
CLARENCE COOK
IS DEDICATED TO HIS MANY FRIENDS AND LOVERS
BY HIS WIFE
LOUISA W. COOK
CHRONOLOGY
1828
September 8th, Clarence Chatham Cook born at Dorchester, Massachusetts.
1849
Graduated at Harvard College.
Studied architecture for a season. Then became a tutor. Lectured on Art and gave readings from Shakespeare’s plays.
1852
Married Tuesday, October 26th, to Louisa De Wint Whittemore, widow of Samuel Whittemore of New York City.
1863
Began a series of articles published in the New York Tribune, on “American Art and Artists.”
1864
Editor of The New Path, a pre-Raphaelite journal published in New York.
1868
Published “The Central Park.”
1869
Paris correspondent of The New York Tribune. Went to Italy at the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war.
1870
Returned to the United States and renewed his connection with The New York Tribune.
1874
Wrote the text of a heliotype reproduction of Dürer’s “Life of the Virgin.”
1878
Completed “The House Beautiful” and edited, with notes, the translation of Lübke’s “History of Art.”
1884
Editor and proprietor of The Studio, a monthly magazine of art published in New York.
1886
Published an illustrated work in three large volumes entitled “Art and Artists of Our Time.”
1900
Clarence Chatham Cook died at Fishkill-on-the-Hudson May 31, aged 72 years.
CONTENTS
POEMS
BY
CLARENCE COOK
THE MAPLE TREE
AN April sun with April showers
Had burst the buds of lagging flowers;
From their fresh leaves the violets’ eyes
Mirrored the deep blue of the skies;
The daffodils, in clustering ranks,
Fringed with their spears the garden banks,
And with the blooms I love so well
Their paper buds began to swell,
While every bush and every tree
Burgeoned with flowers of melody;
From the quick robin with his range
Of silver notes, a warbling change,
Which he from sad to merry drew
A sparkling shower of tuneful dew,
To the brown sparrow in the wheat
A plaintive whistle clear and sweet.
Over my head the royal sky
Spread clear from cloud his canopy,
The idle noon slept far and wide
On misty hill and river side,
And far below me glittering lay
The mirror of the azure bay.
Had burst the buds of lagging flowers;
From their fresh leaves the violets’ eyes
Mirrored the deep blue of the skies;
The daffodils, in clustering ranks,
Fringed with their spears the garden banks,
And with the blooms I love so well
Their paper buds began to swell,
While every bush and every tree
Burgeoned with flowers of melody;
From the quick robin with his range
Of silver notes, a warbling change,
Which he from sad to merry drew
A sparkling shower of tuneful dew,
To the brown sparrow in the wheat
A plaintive whistle clear and sweet.
Over my head the royal sky
Spread clear from cloud his canopy,
The idle noon slept far and wide
On misty hill and river side,
And far below me glittering lay
The mirror of the azure bay.
I stood beneath the maple tree;
Its crimson blooms enchanted me,
Its honey perfume haunted me,
And drew me thither unaware,
A nameless influence in the air.
Its boughs were hung with murmuring bees
Who robbed it of its sweetnesses—
Their cheerful humming, loud and strong,
Drowned with its bass the robin’s song,
And filled the April noontide air
With Labor’s universal prayer.
I paused to listen—soon I heard
A sound of neither bee nor bird,
A sullen murmur mixed with cheer
That rose and fell upon the ear
As the wind might—yet far away
Unstirred the sleeping river lay,
And even across the hillside wheat
No silvery ripples wandered fleet.
It was the murmur of the town,
No song of bird or bee could drown—
The rattling wheels along the street,
The pushing crowd with hasty feet,
The schoolboy’s call, the gossip’s story,
The lawyer’s purchased oratory,
The glib-tongued shopman with his wares,
The chattering schoolgirl with her airs,
The moaning sick man on his bed,
The coffin nailing for the dead,
The new-born infant’s lusty wail,
The bells that bade the bridal hail,
The factory’s wheels that round and round
Forever turn, and with their sound
Make the young children deaf to all
God’s voices that about them call,
Sweet sounds of bird and wind and wave;
And Life no gladder than a grave.
Its crimson blooms enchanted me,
Its honey perfume haunted me,
And drew me thither unaware,
A nameless influence in the air.
Its boughs were hung with murmuring bees
Who robbed it of its sweetnesses—
Their cheerful humming, loud and strong,
Drowned with its bass the robin’s song,
And filled the April noontide air
With Labor’s universal prayer.
I paused to listen—soon I heard
A sound of neither bee nor bird,
A sullen murmur mixed with cheer
That rose and fell upon the ear
As the wind might—yet far away
Unstirred the sleeping river lay,
And even across the hillside wheat
No silvery ripples wandered fleet.
It was the murmur of the town,
No song of bird or bee could drown—
The rattling wheels along the street,
The pushing crowd with hasty feet,
The schoolboy’s call, the gossip’s story,
The lawyer’s purchased oratory,
The glib-tongued shopman with his wares,
The chattering schoolgirl with her airs,
The moaning sick man on his bed,
The coffin nailing for the dead,
The new-born infant’s lusty wail,
The bells that bade the bridal hail,
The factory’s wheels that round and round
Forever turn, and with their sound
Make the young children deaf to all
God’s voices that about them call,
Sweet sounds of bird and wind and wave;
And Life no gladder than a grave.
These myriad, mingled human voices,
These intertwined and various noises
Made up the murmur that I heard
Through the sweet hymn of bee and bird.
I said—“If all these sounds of life
With which the noontide air is rife,
These busy murmurings of the bee
Robbing the honied maple tree,
These warblings of the song-birds’ voices,
With which the blooming hedge rejoices,
These harsher mortal chords that rise
To mar Earth’s anthem to the skies,
If all these sounds fall on my ear
So little varying—yet so near—
How can I tell if God can know
A cry of human joy or woe
From the loud humming of the bee,
Or the blithe robin’s melody?”
These intertwined and various noises
Made up the murmur that I heard
Through the sweet hymn of bee and bird.
I said—“If all these sounds of life
With which the noontide air is rife,
These busy murmurings of the bee
Robbing the honied maple tree,
These warblings of the song-birds’ voices,
With which the blooming hedge rejoices,
These harsher mortal chords that rise
To mar Earth’s anthem to the skies,
If all these sounds fall on my ear
So little varying—yet so near—
How can I tell if God can know
A cry of human joy or woe
From the loud humming of the bee,
Or the blithe robin’s melody?”
God sitteth somewhere in his heaven—
About him sing the planets seven;
With every thought a world is made,
To grow in sun or droop in shade;
He holds Creation like a flower
In his right hand—an æon’s hour—
It fades, it dies,—another’s bloom
Makes the air sweet with fresh perfume.
Or, did he listen on that day
To what the rolling Earth might say?
Or, did he mark, as, one by one,
The gliding hours in light were spun?
And if he heard the choral hymn
The Earth sent up to honor him,
Which note rose sweetest to his ear?
Which murmur did he gladliest hear?
About him sing the planets seven;
With every thought a world is made,
To grow in sun or droop in shade;
He holds Creation like a flower
In his right hand—an æon’s hour—
It fades, it dies,—another’s bloom
Makes the air sweet with fresh perfume.
Or, did he listen on that day
To what the rolling Earth might say?
Or, did he mark, as, one by one,
The gliding hours in light were spun?
And if he heard the choral hymn
The Earth sent up to honor him,
Which note rose sweetest to his ear?
Which murmur did he gladliest hear?
ABRAM AND ZIMRI
Poem founded on a Rabinnical Legend
ABRAM and Zimri owned a field together,
A level field, hid in a happy vale;
They ploughed it with one plough, and in the spring
Sowed, walking side by side, the fruitful grain;
Each carried to his home one-half the sheaves,
And stored them, with much labor, in his barns.
Now Abram had a wife and seven sons,
But Zimri dwelt alone within his house.
One night, before the sheaves were gathered in,
As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed,
And counted in his mind his little gains,
He thought upon his brother Abram’s lot,
And said, “I dwell alone within my house,
But Abram hath a wife and seven sons;
And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike:
He surely needeth more for life than I:
I will arise and gird myself, and go
Down to the field, and add to his from mine.”
So he arose and girded up his loins,
And went out softly to the level field.
The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds,
The trees stood black against the cold blue sky,
The branches waved and whispered in the wind.
So Zimri, guided by the shifting light,
Went down the mountain path, and found the field;
Took from his store of sheave a generous third,
And bore them gladly to his brother’s heap,
And then went back to sleep and happy dreams.
A level field, hid in a happy vale;
They ploughed it with one plough, and in the spring
Sowed, walking side by side, the fruitful grain;
Each carried to his home one-half the sheaves,
And stored them, with much labor, in his barns.
Now Abram had a wife and seven sons,
But Zimri dwelt alone within his house.
One night, before the sheaves were gathered in,
As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed,
And counted in his mind his little gains,
He thought upon his brother Abram’s lot,
And said, “I dwell alone within my house,
But Abram hath a wife and seven sons;
And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike:
He surely needeth more for life than I:
I will arise and gird myself, and go
Down to the field, and add to his from mine.”
So he arose and girded up his loins,
And went out softly to the level field.
The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds,
The trees stood black against the cold blue sky,
The branches waved and whispered in the wind.
So Zimri, guided by the shifting light,
Went down the mountain path, and found the field;
Took from his store of sheave a generous third,
And bore them gladly to his brother’s heap,
And then went back to sleep and happy dreams.
Now that same night, as Abram lay in bed,
Thinking upon his blissful state in life,
He thought upon his brother Zimri’s lot,
And said, “He dwells within his house alone,
He goeth forth to toil with few to help,
He goeth home at night to a cold house,
And hath few other friends but me and mine
(For these two tilled the happy vale alone),
While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed,
Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons,
Who aid me in my toil, and make it light;
And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike;
This, surely, is not pleasing unto God.
I will arise and gird myself, and go
Out to the field, and borrow from my store,
And add unto my brother Zimri’s pile.”
Thinking upon his blissful state in life,
He thought upon his brother Zimri’s lot,
And said, “He dwells within his house alone,
He goeth forth to toil with few to help,
He goeth home at night to a cold house,
And hath few other friends but me and mine
(For these two tilled the happy vale alone),
While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed,
Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons,
Who aid me in my toil, and make it light;
And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike;
This, surely, is not pleasing unto God.
I will arise and gird myself, and go
Out to the field, and borrow from my store,
And add unto my brother Zimri’s pile.”
So he arose and girded up his loins,
And went down softly to the level field.
The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds,
The trees stood black against the starry sky,
The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze;
So Abram, guided by the doubtful light,
Passed down the mountain path, and found the field,
Took from his store of sheaves a generous third,
And added them unto his brother’s heap;
Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams.
And went down softly to the level field.
The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds,
The trees stood black against the starry sky,
The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze;
So Abram, guided by the doubtful light,
Passed down the mountain path, and found the field,
Took from his store of sheaves a generous third,
And added them unto his brother’s heap;
Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams.
So the next morning, with the early sun,
The brothers rose and went out to their toil;
And when they came to see the heavy sheaves,
Each wondered in his heart to find his heap,
Though he had given a third, was still the same.
The brothers rose and went out to their toil;
And when they came to see the heavy sheaves,
Each wondered in his heart to find his heap,
Though he had given a third, was still the same.
Now the next night went Zimri to the field,
Took from his store of sheaves a generous share
And placed them on his brother Abram’s heap;
And then lay down behind his pile to watch.
The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud,
The cedars stood up black against the sky,
The olive branches whispered in the wind.
Then Abram came down softly from his home,
And, looking to the left and right, went on,
Took from his ample store a generous third,
And laid it on his brother Zimri’s pile.
Then Zimri rose and caught him in his arms,
And wept upon his neck and kissed his cheek,
And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak,
Neither could Zimri, for their hearts were full.
Took from his store of sheaves a generous share
And placed them on his brother Abram’s heap;
And then lay down behind his pile to watch.
The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud,
The cedars stood up black against the sky,
The olive branches whispered in the wind.
Then Abram came down softly from his home,
And, looking to the left and right, went on,
Took from his ample store a generous third,
And laid it on his brother Zimri’s pile.
Then Zimri rose and caught him in his arms,
And wept upon his neck and kissed his cheek,
And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak,
Neither could Zimri, for their hearts were full.
AN APRIL VIOLET
PALE flower, that by this stone
Sweetenest the air alone,
While round thee falls the snow
And the rude wind doth blow.
What thought doth make thee pine
Pale Flower, can I divine?
Sweetenest the air alone,
While round thee falls the snow
And the rude wind doth blow.
What thought doth make thee pine
Pale Flower, can I divine?
Say, does this trouble thee
That all things fickle be?
The wind that buffets so
Was kind an hour ago.
The sun, a cloud doth hide,
Cheered thee at morning tide.
That all things fickle be?
The wind that buffets so
Was kind an hour ago.
The sun, a cloud doth hide,
Cheered thee at morning tide.
The busy pleasuring bee
Sought thee for company.
The little sparrows near
Sang thee their ballads clear.
The maples on thy head
Their spicy blossoms shed.
Sought thee for company.
The little sparrows near
Sang thee their ballads clear.
The maples on thy head
Their spicy blossoms shed.
Because the storm made dumb
The wild bees booming hum;
Because for shivering
The sparrows cannot sing;
Is this the reason why
Thou look’st so woefully?
The wild bees booming hum;
Because for shivering
The sparrows cannot sing;
Is this the reason why
Thou look’st so woefully?
To-morrow’s laughing sun
Will cheer thee, pallid one;
To-morrow will bring back
The gay bee on his track,
Bursting thy cloister dim
With his wild roistering.
Will cheer thee, pallid one;
To-morrow will bring back
The gay bee on his track,
Bursting thy cloister dim
With his wild roistering.
Canst thou not wait the morrow,
That rids thee of thy sorrow?
Art thou too desolate
To smile at any fate?
Then there is naught for thee
But Death’s delivery.
That rids thee of thy sorrow?
Art thou too desolate
To smile at any fate?
Then there is naught for thee
But Death’s delivery.
REGRET
LOOK out, sad heart, through wintry eyes
To see thy summer go:
How pallid are thy bluest skies
Behind this veiling snow.
To see thy summer go:
How pallid are thy bluest skies
Behind this veiling snow.
Look out upon thy purple hills,
That all the summer long,
Laughed with an hundred laughing rills,
And sang their summer song.
That all the summer long,
Laughed with an hundred laughing rills,
And sang their summer song.
You only see the sheeted snow
That covers grass and tree;
The frozen streamlets cannot flow,
No bird dares sing to thee.
That covers grass and tree;
The frozen streamlets cannot flow,
No bird dares sing to thee.
Look out upon Life’s summer days
That fade like summer flowers;
What golden fruitage for thy praise,
From all those bounteous hours?
That fade like summer flowers;
What golden fruitage for thy praise,
From all those bounteous hours?
Sings any bird, or any wind
Amid thy falling leaves?
Why is it, if thou look’st behind,
Thy heart forever grieves?
Amid thy falling leaves?
Why is it, if thou look’st behind,
Thy heart forever grieves?
L’ENNUI
OH April grass, so truly
My wish for spring divining,
Oh April sun, so gaily
In at my window shining,
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
My wish for spring divining,
Oh April sun, so gaily
In at my window shining,
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
Oh thoughts of Summer days
Born of the violet’s blue.
Oh wooing western wind,
That maketh all things new—
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
Born of the violet’s blue.
Oh wooing western wind,
That maketh all things new—
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
Oh mountains brown and sere,
Mantled in morning light,
Oh golden sunset sea
Wrecked on the shores of night,
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
Mantled in morning light,
Oh golden sunset sea
Wrecked on the shores of night,
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
Oh longings evermore
For some ungiven good,
Oh yearnings to make clear
The dimly understood,
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
For some ungiven good,
Oh yearnings to make clear
The dimly understood,
What cheer can ye impart
Unto a faded heart?
Cover thy weary eyes
With hands too weak for prayer,
Think on the happy past,
From other thoughts forbear
Which can no cheer impart
Unto a hopeless heart.
With hands too weak for prayer,
Think on the happy past,
From other thoughts forbear
Which can no cheer impart
Unto a hopeless heart.
ASPIRATION
THOU sea, whose tireless waves
Forever seek the shore,
Striving to clamber higher,
Yet failing evermore;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Forever seek the shore,
Striving to clamber higher,
Yet failing evermore;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Thou sun, whose constant feet
Mount ever to thy noon,
Thou canst not there remain,
Night quenches thee so soon;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Mount ever to thy noon,
Thou canst not there remain,
Night quenches thee so soon;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Rose, in my garden growing,
Unharmed by winter’s snows,
Another winter cometh
Ere all thy buds unclose;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Unharmed by winter’s snows,
Another winter cometh
Ere all thy buds unclose;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Mortal, with feeble hands
Striving some work to do,
Fate, with her cruel shears,
Doth all thy steps pursue;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
Striving some work to do,
Fate, with her cruel shears,
Doth all thy steps pursue;
Why wilt thou still aspire
Though losing thy desire?
The Roses, Newburgh,
April 21, 1853.
THE SOUL’S QUESTION
Inscribed to Rev. A. Dwight Mayo
DEAR friend, in whom my soul abides,
Who rulest all its wayward tides,
Accept the feeble song I sing,
And read aright my stammering.
Who rulest all its wayward tides,
Accept the feeble song I sing,
And read aright my stammering.
I
As on my bed at night I lay,
My soul, who all the weary day
Had fought with thoughts of death and life,
Began again the bitter strife.
My soul, who all the weary day
Had fought with thoughts of death and life,
Began again the bitter strife.
II
This question would she ask, until
My tired eyes with tears would fill,
And overrun and fill again;
So that I cried out in my pain—
My tired eyes with tears would fill,
And overrun and fill again;
So that I cried out in my pain—
III
“When thou art made a heap of earth,
And all thy gain is nothing worth,
Where shall I go? Shall I too die
And fade in utter entity?
And all thy gain is nothing worth,
Where shall I go? Shall I too die
And fade in utter entity?
IV
“Shall my fine essence be the sport
Of idle chance and fade to nought;
The morning dew upon the flower
Dried by the sunlight in an hour?
Of idle chance and fade to nought;
The morning dew upon the flower
Dried by the sunlight in an hour?
V
“Doth God with careless eyes look down
On peopled slope and crowded town,
And, though he mark the sparrow’s death,
Think nothing more of human breath?
On peopled slope and crowded town,
And, though he mark the sparrow’s death,
Think nothing more of human breath?
VI
“Or if I shall not die, but live—
What other dwelling will he give
In which to lead another life
And wage anew the ended strife?
What other dwelling will he give
In which to lead another life
And wage anew the ended strife?
VII
“Turn up to heaven thy streaming face,
And glance athwart the starry space;
What planet, burning in the blue,
Shall hold thy life begun anew?”
And glance athwart the starry space;
What planet, burning in the blue,
Shall hold thy life begun anew?”
VIII
I looked out on the still midnight,
A thousand stars were flashing bright;
Unclouded shone the sailing moon
And filled with pallor all the room.
A thousand stars were flashing bright;
Unclouded shone the sailing moon
And filled with pallor all the room.
IX
The earth was hid with silver snow,
I heard the river’s steady flow,
I saw the moonlight softly fall
On running stream and mountain wall.
I heard the river’s steady flow,
I saw the moonlight softly fall
On running stream and mountain wall.
X
I found no peace in gazing here;
The earth seemed cold and very drear;
River and mountain bathed in light,
Were grim and ghastly in my sight.
The earth seemed cold and very drear;
River and mountain bathed in light,
Were grim and ghastly in my sight.
XI
The mountain wall—a hand divine
Drew on the sky its perfect line—
Said to my soul, “Of this be sure,
Thy race shall die, but I endure.
Drew on the sky its perfect line—
Said to my soul, “Of this be sure,
Thy race shall die, but I endure.
XII
“And while I take the morning’s kiss
On my brows bathed in crimson bliss
Or listen to the eternal song
The seven great spheres in heaven prolong.
On my brows bathed in crimson bliss
Or listen to the eternal song
The seven great spheres in heaven prolong.
XIII
“While on my sides the cedar grows
Through summer’s suns and winter’s snows,
Or while I rock my piny crown,
Whose high tops draw the lightning down,
Through summer’s suns and winter’s snows,
Or while I rock my piny crown,
Whose high tops draw the lightning down,
XIV
“So long as I in might endure
I watch man fading, swift and sure;
I smile, and whisper to my flowers,
Man dieth and the earth is ours—”
I watch man fading, swift and sure;
I smile, and whisper to my flowers,
Man dieth and the earth is ours—”
XV
A scalding tear rolled down my cheek,
Through thickening sobs I strove to speak;
“Are those the hills I saw to-night
Mantled in pomp of purple light?”
Through thickening sobs I strove to speak;
“Are those the hills I saw to-night
Mantled in pomp of purple light?”
XVI
All day the earth on every side
Lay robed in vesture of a bride,
While lit on snow-wreathed bush and tree
The winter birds sang joyfully.
Lay robed in vesture of a bride,
While lit on snow-wreathed bush and tree
The winter birds sang joyfully.
XVII
The river sparkled cold and keen
With burnished tracts of wintry gleam;
Above, the sky’s unclouded blue
The smile of God on all things threw.
With burnished tracts of wintry gleam;
Above, the sky’s unclouded blue
The smile of God on all things threw.
XVIII
O’er hill and field elate I walked,
With all things fair by turns I talked;
I felt the God within me move
And nothing seemed too mean for Love.
With all things fair by turns I talked;
I felt the God within me move
And nothing seemed too mean for Love.
XIX
The flower of day that bloomed so fair
Closed on the perfumed evening air;
A holy calm o’er Nature stole
And bathed in prayer my happy soul.
Closed on the perfumed evening air;
A holy calm o’er Nature stole
And bathed in prayer my happy soul.
XX
A golden glory caught the world;—
High up the crimson clouds were curled,
A purple splendor hid the sun
A moment—and the day was done.
High up the crimson clouds were curled,
A purple splendor hid the sun
A moment—and the day was done.
XI
I gazed at will; my thankful eyes
Were bathed in dews of Paradise;
My heart ran out my God to meet,
And clasped his knees and kissed his feet.
Were bathed in dews of Paradise;
My heart ran out my God to meet,
And clasped his knees and kissed his feet.
XII
He led me like a little child
Whereso he would; the darkness smiled
Whereso we walked; such glory of light
Enshrined him, making very bright
Whereso he would; the darkness smiled
Whereso we walked; such glory of light
Enshrined him, making very bright
XIII
Whatever darkness veiled my mind;
I looked on all the grief behind
As on a fevered dream. To-night
The peace is gone and gone the light
I looked on all the grief behind
As on a fevered dream. To-night
The peace is gone and gone the light
XIV
I prayed for sleep, an earnest prayer
I thought that God would surely hear;
Yet, though my tears fell fast and free,
He kept his boon of sleep from me.
I thought that God would surely hear;
Yet, though my tears fell fast and free,
He kept his boon of sleep from me.
XXV
Again my soul her quest began—
“Must I too fall beneath the ban?
And, if I die not in thy death,
Where shall I live who am but breath?
“Must I too fall beneath the ban?
And, if I die not in thy death,
Where shall I live who am but breath?
XXVI
“When the frame stiffens into stone,
And death and it are left alone,
And round about it in the grave
The rat shall gnaw and winds shall rave,
And death and it are left alone,
And round about it in the grave
The rat shall gnaw and winds shall rave,
XXVII
“Shall I within the dwelling stay
To watch above the heap of clay,
And while the dreary ages roll
Lie housed in earth, a prisoned soul?”
To watch above the heap of clay,
And while the dreary ages roll
Lie housed in earth, a prisoned soul?”
XXVIII
If this be Hell, to sit and hear
The hum of life from year to year,
Yet have no part nor lot in all
That men do on this earthly ball,
The hum of life from year to year,
Yet have no part nor lot in all
That men do on this earthly ball,
XXIX
But sit and watch from hour to hour
The slow decay of beauty and power,
And when the last faint trace is gone
To sit there still and still watch on,
The slow decay of beauty and power,
And when the last faint trace is gone
To sit there still and still watch on,
XXX
While other men shall share my doom
And other souls within the tomb
Shall sit beside me dumb and pale
Forever in that fearful vale—
And other souls within the tomb
Shall sit beside me dumb and pale
Forever in that fearful vale—