With that, cold sweat ran down my face
I rose up straightway in my place
I lit my lamp, my Bible took
And sat to read the blessed Book.
I rose up straightway in my place
I lit my lamp, my Bible took
And sat to read the blessed Book.
XXXII
I turned the pages to and fro
Not knowing where to read, and so
Sat very still with tightened breath
Till I could catch that one word—“death”
Not knowing where to read, and so
Sat very still with tightened breath
Till I could catch that one word—“death”
XXXIII
“Cain”—the page blackened as I read
The awful name of him who led
God’s curse like lightning down to earth,
Blasting and scarring home and hearth.
The awful name of him who led
God’s curse like lightning down to earth,
Blasting and scarring home and hearth.
XXXIV
I turned the page; I read the line
Of those old men, the half divine,
Of whom no record is supplied
But, “thus he lived, and then, he died—”
Of those old men, the half divine,
Of whom no record is supplied
But, “thus he lived, and then, he died—”
XXXV
Not any comfort could I find,
A sudden sickness seized my mind,
I felt my heart beat slow and weak
I tried to pray, I could not speak.
A sudden sickness seized my mind,
I felt my heart beat slow and weak
I tried to pray, I could not speak.
XXXVI
Oh! bitterness beyond compare.
When our last refuge fades to air;
Where shall the hopeless soul repose,
For who is there that surely knows?
When our last refuge fades to air;
Where shall the hopeless soul repose,
For who is there that surely knows?
XXXVII
I read how Saul in wild En-dor
Questioned the witch, and what he saw.
How Samuel’s ghost rose pale and grim
Out of the grave and answered him.
Questioned the witch, and what he saw.
How Samuel’s ghost rose pale and grim
Out of the grave and answered him.
XXXVIII
I read the awful words he said—
“Why am I thus disquieted?”
“Disquieted”—what dreamless sleep
Weighed on his eyelids calm and deep?
“Why am I thus disquieted?”
“Disquieted”—what dreamless sleep
Weighed on his eyelids calm and deep?
XXXIX
Thereat I shook from head to foot—
I made no cry, my heart was mute;
I could not call on God, nor pray,
For all my faith had fled away.
I made no cry, my heart was mute;
I could not call on God, nor pray,
For all my faith had fled away.
XL
As when a man, who in a dream
To slide down some blank wall shall seem,
Clutches at air, strikes out in vain
His helpless hands and shrieks with pain,
To slide down some blank wall shall seem,
Clutches at air, strikes out in vain
His helpless hands and shrieks with pain,
XLI
While all the air with mocking eyes
Is full, foul shapes and soundless cries
That laugh to scorn his deadly fear
With laughter that he swoons to hear,
Is full, foul shapes and soundless cries
That laugh to scorn his deadly fear
With laughter that he swoons to hear,
XLII
And swooning wakes: my helpless soul
Felt the dim waves above her roll,
The firm earth slide beneath her feet,
And all her agony complete.
Felt the dim waves above her roll,
The firm earth slide beneath her feet,
And all her agony complete.
XLIII
I read that Christ had conquered Death
By giving up his holy breath;
And calling Lazarus by his name
Had brought him back to life again.
By giving up his holy breath;
And calling Lazarus by his name
Had brought him back to life again.
XLIV
What these things mean I cannot say;
They do not drive my fear away,
For where was Lazarus when he heard
The voice of Christ pronounce that word?
They do not drive my fear away,
For where was Lazarus when he heard
The voice of Christ pronounce that word?
XLV
Was he within the voiceless tomb
Beside his sometime earthly home,
Watching the slowly changing form
Yield to the touch of mole and worm?
Beside his sometime earthly home,
Watching the slowly changing form
Yield to the touch of mole and worm?
XLVI
Or was he in some blessed place
A saint, with glory in his face;
And did he drop, a gliding star
Down to the earth where mortals are?
A saint, with glory in his face;
And did he drop, a gliding star
Down to the earth where mortals are?
XLVII
And clothe himself in dust again
To share the bitter life of men,
To live a few dark years below
And back again to glory go?
To share the bitter life of men,
To live a few dark years below
And back again to glory go?
XLVIII
This thought raised up my fainting heart
And somewhat eased the deadly smart,
My lips began to move in prayer—
My soul to breathe a freer air.
And somewhat eased the deadly smart,
My lips began to move in prayer—
My soul to breathe a freer air.
XLIX
I prayed for peace, I prayed for trust;
I prayed to feel that God is just;
I prayed that let what would befall
I still might trust Him over all.
I prayed to feel that God is just;
I prayed that let what would befall
I still might trust Him over all.
L
And whether sunk in deadly gloom
The soul must rest within the tomb;
Or sit within God’s awful light
To which the sun’s blaze is as night?
The soul must rest within the tomb;
Or sit within God’s awful light
To which the sun’s blaze is as night?
LI
Or shape its course from life to life
And waxing strong in endless strife,
Through everlasting years pursue
The work that God shall give to do?
And waxing strong in endless strife,
Through everlasting years pursue
The work that God shall give to do?
LII
I might, without a fear, lay down
When he shall call, my earthly crown,
Trusting that he who gave me breath
Will keep me in the day of death.
When he shall call, my earthly crown,
Trusting that he who gave me breath
Will keep me in the day of death.
LIII
I looked again upon the earth.
The day rejoicèd in its birth;
And on the sullen rack afar
Trembled the fading morning star!
The day rejoicèd in its birth;
And on the sullen rack afar
Trembled the fading morning star!
ASSERTION
TOO late, I drew from scanty springs
The barren cheer that in them lies.
Too late, I fettered eager wings
That longed to bathe in bluer skies.
The barren cheer that in them lies.
Too late, I fettered eager wings
That longed to bathe in bluer skies.
Too late, I squandered golden hours
God gave me for his praise to spend.
Too late, I gathered idle flowers
Forgetful of my journey’s end.
God gave me for his praise to spend.
Too late, I gathered idle flowers
Forgetful of my journey’s end.
God needs my deed; however small
The help I lend, to work his will,
Not without grief he sees me fall.
Or fail his purpose to fulfil.
The help I lend, to work his will,
Not without grief he sees me fall.
Or fail his purpose to fulfil.
THE APPLE
I PICKED an apple from the ground,
A perfect apple, red and round.
Its spicy perfume shy and sweet,
Stole from the ground beneath my feet,
Borne on a wind that lightly flew,
Through the deep dome of cloudless blue.
A swarm of ants had found the prize,
Before it met my wandering eyes,
And careless in their busy pleasure,
Ran o’er and o’er the fragrant treasure.
I blew them off, nor cared to know
Whither the luckless things might go.
So He who holdeth in his hand
This perfect world on which we stand,
Blows us, ah, whither? with His breath,
Our friends who miss us call it “Death!”
A perfect apple, red and round.
Its spicy perfume shy and sweet,
Stole from the ground beneath my feet,
Borne on a wind that lightly flew,
Through the deep dome of cloudless blue.
A swarm of ants had found the prize,
Before it met my wandering eyes,
And careless in their busy pleasure,
Ran o’er and o’er the fragrant treasure.
I blew them off, nor cared to know
Whither the luckless things might go.
So He who holdeth in his hand
This perfect world on which we stand,
Blows us, ah, whither? with His breath,
Our friends who miss us call it “Death!”
FOR EASTER DAY
I
THIS is the Easter!
Day of rejoicing!
Day of renewing!
See how the roseate,
Delicate, virginal
Feet of the Morning
Haste o’er the mountains
Joyful to meet her!
Day of rejoicing!
Day of renewing!
See how the roseate,
Delicate, virginal
Feet of the Morning
Haste o’er the mountains
Joyful to meet her!
II
Welcome the Easter!
Day of renewing!
Day of rejoicing!
The snow has departed,
The rain is assuaged,
The winter is gone!
Lo! on Earth’s bosom
The rainbow of promise,
The rainbow of springtime,
The rainbow of flowers!
Day of renewing!
Day of rejoicing!
The snow has departed,
The rain is assuaged,
The winter is gone!
Lo! on Earth’s bosom
The rainbow of promise,
The rainbow of springtime,
The rainbow of flowers!
III
This is the Easter!
Day of uprising!
Day of renewing!
Heart, take new courage!
Look no more downward!
See, the sun rising!
Hark, the bird singing!
See, the grass springing!
The brook floweth free!
Hand to the plough, man!
Cut deep the furrow,
Cast thy seed strongly!
Day of uprising!
Day of renewing!
Heart, take new courage!
Look no more downward!
See, the sun rising!
Hark, the bird singing!
See, the grass springing!
The brook floweth free!
Hand to the plough, man!
Cut deep the furrow,
Cast thy seed strongly!
Think not of sorrow!
Of death or of sin!
To-day, let thy future
Burst from its cerements,—
Roll back the Grave stone!
To-day, Life immortal!
Oh, mortal! begin!
Of death or of sin!
To-day, let thy future
Burst from its cerements,—
Roll back the Grave stone!
To-day, Life immortal!
Oh, mortal! begin!
ON ONE WHO DIED IN MAY
John H. Ellis, May 3, 1870
WHY Death, what dost thou, here,
This time o’ year?
Peach-blow, and apple-blossom;
Clouds, white as my love’s bosom;
Warm wind o’ the West
Cradling the robin’s nest;
Young meadows, hasting their green laps to fill
With golden dandelion and daffodil;—
These are fit sights for spring;
But, oh, thou hateful thing,
What dost thou here?
This time o’ year?
Peach-blow, and apple-blossom;
Clouds, white as my love’s bosom;
Warm wind o’ the West
Cradling the robin’s nest;
Young meadows, hasting their green laps to fill
With golden dandelion and daffodil;—
These are fit sights for spring;
But, oh, thou hateful thing,
What dost thou here?
Why, Death, what dost thou here
This time o’ year?
Fair, at the old oak’s knee,
The young anemone;
Fair, the plash places set
With dog-tooth violet;
The first sloop-sail,
The shad-flower pale;
Sweet are all sights,
Sweet are all sounds of Spring;
But thou, thou ugly thing,
What dost thou, here?
This time o’ year?
Fair, at the old oak’s knee,
The young anemone;
Fair, the plash places set
With dog-tooth violet;
The first sloop-sail,
The shad-flower pale;
Sweet are all sights,
Sweet are all sounds of Spring;
But thou, thou ugly thing,
What dost thou, here?
Dark Death let fall a tear.
Why am I here?
Oh, heart ungrateful! Will man never know
I am his friend, nor ever was his foe?
Whose the sweet season, then, if it be not mine?
Mine, not the bobolink’s, that song divine
Chasing the shadows o’er the flying wheat!
’Tis a dead voice, not his, that sounds so sweet.
Whose passionate heart burns in this flaming rose
But his, whose passionate heart long since lay still?
Whose wan hope pales this nun-like lily tall,
Beside the garden wall,
But hers, whose radiant eyes and lily grace,
Sleep in the grave that crowns yon tufted hill!
All Hope, all Memory
Have their deep springs in me,
And Love, that else might fade,
By me immortal made,
Spurns at the grave, leaps to the welcoming skies,
And burns a steadfast star to steadfast eyes.
Why am I here?
Oh, heart ungrateful! Will man never know
I am his friend, nor ever was his foe?
Whose the sweet season, then, if it be not mine?
Mine, not the bobolink’s, that song divine
Chasing the shadows o’er the flying wheat!
’Tis a dead voice, not his, that sounds so sweet.
Whose passionate heart burns in this flaming rose
But his, whose passionate heart long since lay still?
Whose wan hope pales this nun-like lily tall,
Beside the garden wall,
But hers, whose radiant eyes and lily grace,
Sleep in the grave that crowns yon tufted hill!
All Hope, all Memory
Have their deep springs in me,
And Love, that else might fade,
By me immortal made,
Spurns at the grave, leaps to the welcoming skies,
And burns a steadfast star to steadfast eyes.
THE YEW TREE
TAKE this small slip of sombre yew
And lay it on thy breast;
There, underneath thy downcast eyes,
Let the sad emblem rest—
Thy tears may fall upon it.
And lay it on thy breast;
There, underneath thy downcast eyes,
Let the sad emblem rest—
Thy tears may fall upon it.
I pulled it from a little tree
That just begins to grow—
Once only has it seen the sun
And only once the snow—
Thy tears may rain upon it.
That just begins to grow—
Once only has it seen the sun
And only once the snow—
Thy tears may rain upon it.
The garden where it grew is sad
Before all other places,
Death’s shadow up and down its walks
Forever darkly paces—
Thy tears have fallen in it.
Before all other places,
Death’s shadow up and down its walks
Forever darkly paces—
Thy tears have fallen in it.
These yew trees stand, a pallid ring
Upon the sunlit lawn—
He planted them the very year
That we were left to mourn—
Our tears fell freely for it.
Upon the sunlit lawn—
He planted them the very year
That we were left to mourn—
Our tears fell freely for it.
They stood like mourners round a grave
Who look within, to see
Where lie the ashes, while the fire
Spires upward, clear and free.
Who look within, to see
Where lie the ashes, while the fire
Spires upward, clear and free.
THE IMMORTAL
SOMEWHERE in silent starry lands,
Forlorn with cold or faint with heat,
He folds his ever active hands,
And rest his never-resting feet.
Forlorn with cold or faint with heat,
He folds his ever active hands,
And rest his never-resting feet.
A windless light illumes his skies;
A moonless night, a sunless day,
Unheeded by his careless eyes,
Arise, and fade, and pass away.
A moonless night, a sunless day,
Unheeded by his careless eyes,
Arise, and fade, and pass away.
All day his constant thoughts recall
The blissful past, forever fled;
A golden light illumines all
The ghostly memories of the dead.
The blissful past, forever fled;
A golden light illumines all
The ghostly memories of the dead.
Once more adown his garden walks
He moves serene from flower to flower:
His wife beside him gaily talks,
He listens gladly hour by hour.
He moves serene from flower to flower:
His wife beside him gaily talks,
He listens gladly hour by hour.
But when he turns to kiss the lips,
Or when he thinks the form to press
Of her he loves—his hope’s eclipse
Renews the former bitterness.
Or when he thinks the form to press
Of her he loves—his hope’s eclipse
Renews the former bitterness.
In nightly dreams his tireless wings
Convey him far to where she lies
Folded in slumber, while he sings
Low in her ear his lullabies.
Convey him far to where she lies
Folded in slumber, while he sings
Low in her ear his lullabies.
He wakes—the happy dream is o’er,
The slow, dull heart-ache gnaws again,
Within his soul forevermore
A long-enduring death of pain.
The slow, dull heart-ache gnaws again,
Within his soul forevermore
A long-enduring death of pain.
With her the suns arise and set,
The singing stars renew their light,
Deep in her heart one wild regret
Moans for his presence day and night.
The singing stars renew their light,
Deep in her heart one wild regret
Moans for his presence day and night.
I well believe God loves thee still,
To whatsoever planet borne;
Breathing the bright auroral airs
That haunt some glad eternal morn.
To whatsoever planet borne;
Breathing the bright auroral airs
That haunt some glad eternal morn.
Walking with fair, unclouded eyes
Beside the slow unfailing streams,
Lulled in the memories of the Past,
An ever gliding dance of dreams.
Beside the slow unfailing streams,
Lulled in the memories of the Past,
An ever gliding dance of dreams.
The ills that fret our feeble hearts,
The toils in which thy life had share,
The slender joys that make us glad
In quiet moments snatched from care.
The toils in which thy life had share,
The slender joys that make us glad
In quiet moments snatched from care.
These memories of a vanished life,
Pass dim before thine altered mind,
As visions of the earth and sky
Come to a man whose eyes are blind.
Pass dim before thine altered mind,
As visions of the earth and sky
Come to a man whose eyes are blind.
To whom the sun in cloudless light
Forever shines; forever grow
The flowers; the woods in beauty wave
Unchanged; the constant planets glow.
Forever shines; forever grow
The flowers; the woods in beauty wave
Unchanged; the constant planets glow.
All night above thy peaceful head,
The sky is bright with burning stars;
To thee the opening morning brings
No news of peace, nor sound of wars;
Sole tenant of thy starry home;
Uncheered by friend, unvexed by foe;
Down the slow tide of lapsing time
Thy tranquil days in silence go.
The sky is bright with burning stars;
To thee the opening morning brings
No news of peace, nor sound of wars;
Sole tenant of thy starry home;
Uncheered by friend, unvexed by foe;
Down the slow tide of lapsing time
Thy tranquil days in silence go.
Waiting with calm, expectant eyes
The hour that makes her wholly thine
Secure from all the blows of Fate
And all the mischiefs wrought by Time.
The hour that makes her wholly thine
Secure from all the blows of Fate
And all the mischiefs wrought by Time.
TWO MAYS
HERE is the stile on which I leaned;—
This golden willow bending over;—
Yonder’s the same blue sky that gleamed
The day that I murmured, “I am thy lover.”
This golden willow bending over;—
Yonder’s the same blue sky that gleamed
The day that I murmured, “I am thy lover.”
This is the stone on which she sat;
See here the bright moss freshly springing,
And look! overhead the same bluebirds
Back and forth from the old nest winging.
See here the bright moss freshly springing,
And look! overhead the same bluebirds
Back and forth from the old nest winging.
Here is the briar whose flowers she pulled
Leaf by leaf as she heard my pleading.
Swayed by the same idle April wind
That laughed as it flew, Love’s pang unheeding.
Leaf by leaf as she heard my pleading.
Swayed by the same idle April wind
That laughed as it flew, Love’s pang unheeding.
Sky, trees, flowers—the same; but I?—
Am I the same boy whose wild heart burning
Leapt to one heart in the sweet wild world!
Stilled on one bosom its passionate yearning?
Am I the same boy whose wild heart burning
Leapt to one heart in the sweet wild world!
Stilled on one bosom its passionate yearning?
Silk-soft hair and hazel eyes,
Limbs that lightly moved or stood
And a heart that beat with a loyal love
For all things beautiful, true and good.
Limbs that lightly moved or stood
And a heart that beat with a loyal love
For all things beautiful, true and good.
Follies that flecked this fairest fruit,
Sins that spotted this whitest page,
Changed without, but the same within,
Life’s rose untouched by the frost of age.
Sins that spotted this whitest page,
Changed without, but the same within,
Life’s rose untouched by the frost of age.
Thou, too, beloved, art still the same,
Deep heart, passionate, tender and true,
The same clear spirit and glancing wit
Piercing the armor of folly through.
Deep heart, passionate, tender and true,
The same clear spirit and glancing wit
Piercing the armor of folly through.
Sad, olivaster, Spanish face,
Sweet low brow under shadowy hair,
Dark eyes mingled of tears and fire,
Voice like a song-bird’s heard through a prayer.
Sweet low brow under shadowy hair,
Dark eyes mingled of tears and fire,
Voice like a song-bird’s heard through a prayer.
Time! if thou steal her girlish beauty,
Leave her spirit undimmed and free.
Touch the rose with thy frosty fingers,
But the rose’s perfume stays with me.
Leave her spirit undimmed and free.
Touch the rose with thy frosty fingers,
But the rose’s perfume stays with me.
WIND HARPINGS
FAINT smell of box
In the evening air,
Faint bleat of flocks
From fields afar;
On the gray rocks,
The lap and lapse
Of the wan water.
In the evening air,
Faint bleat of flocks
From fields afar;
On the gray rocks,
The lap and lapse
Of the wan water.
The sunset fields
Stretch fair and far.
Mid the winrowed clouds
The sickle moon
Has clipt a star!
Pale golden bloom!
First flower of the night!
It trembles down
To the sunset streak,
Light lost in light!
Stretch fair and far.
Mid the winrowed clouds
The sickle moon
Has clipt a star!
Pale golden bloom!
First flower of the night!
It trembles down
To the sunset streak,
Light lost in light!
In the pleached bower,
In the garden old,
Hand closed in hand,
We sit together.
We do not speak.
A wind from the pine
With fingers fine,
Lays her warm hair
Against my cheek.
In the garden old,
Hand closed in hand,
We sit together.
We do not speak.
A wind from the pine
With fingers fine,
Lays her warm hair
Against my cheek.
Sweet silent hour!
As flower to flower
Heart speaks to heart
As star to star!
Oh, hawthorn bower
Oh, garden old
How dear, how sad
Your memories are!
As flower to flower
Heart speaks to heart
As star to star!
Oh, hawthorn bower
Oh, garden old
How dear, how sad
Your memories are!
A VALENTINE
BRING me my lute, the sunlight fades;
The evening breezes, soft and low,
From the far South begin to blow.
The evening breezes, soft and low,
From the far South begin to blow.
Here will I watch the dying day:
Here will I watch the pallid skies
Flush with a myriad changing dyes.
Here will I watch the pallid skies
Flush with a myriad changing dyes.
What joy to see the fairy moon
Cradled in folds of rosy light,
The baby sovereign of the night.
Cradled in folds of rosy light,
The baby sovereign of the night.
What joy to hear, from far away,
The rolling mill-stream roaring go
Between his banks of ice and snow;
The rolling mill-stream roaring go
Between his banks of ice and snow;
Or from the distant mountain’s side,
To hear the murmuring wind, that brings
Promise of Spring between its wings.
To hear the murmuring wind, that brings
Promise of Spring between its wings.
Here at my window will I sit;
Here, will I let the peaceful hour
Try on my heart her aëry power.
Here, will I let the peaceful hour
Try on my heart her aëry power.
This happy season sings of Thee,
Where’er I turn my careless eyes
Thine image will before them rise;
Where’er I turn my careless eyes
Thine image will before them rise;
Not as thou art in human form;
I cannot shape thy phantom so,
The fleeting shadows come and go.
I cannot shape thy phantom so,
The fleeting shadows come and go.
Thy face is fair with roseate bloom—
I lift my eyes and lo! the sun
Reddens the cloud he looks upon—
I lift my eyes and lo! the sun
Reddens the cloud he looks upon—
Thine eyes with deepening azure smile—
Beyond the hills a line of blue
Recalls the sunlit morning’s dew.
Beyond the hills a line of blue
Recalls the sunlit morning’s dew.
On either side thy thoughtful brow
Thy golden hair is floating free—
Yon golden cloud is fair to see—
Thy golden hair is floating free—
Yon golden cloud is fair to see—
As floating from the purple West,
Its glory slowly gathers dun
And fadeth with the fading sun.
Its glory slowly gathers dun
And fadeth with the fading sun.
Ah! was it all an idle dream?
A fleeting sunset fed my thought,
And all this cloudy vision wrought?
A fleeting sunset fed my thought,
And all this cloudy vision wrought?
Or does the maiden somewhere bloom
Whom Nature cannot paint aright
Her beauty is so passing bright?
Whom Nature cannot paint aright
Her beauty is so passing bright?
COMING—COME
HOW dreary are the crowded streets
With not a soul abroad!
How sunless is the sunny sky!
No fire on hearth, no mirth at board!
How long the nights, how slow the day!
My love’s away! My love’s away!
With not a soul abroad!
How sunless is the sunny sky!
No fire on hearth, no mirth at board!
How long the nights, how slow the day!
My love’s away! My love’s away!
How gay the crowded city streets!
How cheerily shines the sun!
Dances the fire, and round the board
From lip to lip the greetings run!
No longer in the dumps I roam—
My love’s come home! My love’s come home!
How cheerily shines the sun!
Dances the fire, and round the board
From lip to lip the greetings run!
No longer in the dumps I roam—
My love’s come home! My love’s come home!
ULYSSES AND THE SIRENS
OH ye maids, with deep and rosy bosoms!
Oh ye maids, with darkly flowing locks!
Wherefore is it that with songs ye woo me
Sitting in the shadows of the rocks?
Oh ye maids, with darkly flowing locks!
Wherefore is it that with songs ye woo me
Sitting in the shadows of the rocks?
Well hath she, the enchantress Circe told me,
All the evil that shall on me fall;
If I follow where your white feet lead me
Or give answer when your voices call.
All the evil that shall on me fall;
If I follow where your white feet lead me
Or give answer when your voices call.
Oh my comrades, bind me to the mainmast,
Stop my ears with wax and bind my hands,
Close my eyes that so no sight nor murmur
Of the singer or the song steal to me from the sands.
Stop my ears with wax and bind my hands,
Close my eyes that so no sight nor murmur
Of the singer or the song steal to me from the sands.
In the west the blood-red sun is sinking.
And the angry billows redly glow,
With the dying breeze the song is dying.
Ply the oars, my comrades, let us go!
And the angry billows redly glow,
With the dying breeze the song is dying.
Ply the oars, my comrades, let us go!
OTTILIA
Miss Mary Hamilton, afterwards Mrs. George Schuyler
A LOW, sad brow with folded hair;
From whose deep night one pallid rose
White moonlight through the darkness throws.
From whose deep night one pallid rose
White moonlight through the darkness throws.
A head, whose lordly, only crown
Of Pride, Olympian Juno might
Have worn for the great God’s delight.
Of Pride, Olympian Juno might
Have worn for the great God’s delight.
Deep eyes immixed of Night and Fire,
In whose large motion you might see
Her royal soul lived royally.
In whose large motion you might see
Her royal soul lived royally.
Unstained by any earthly soil,
And only caring to walk straight
The road ordained to her by Fate.
And only caring to walk straight
The road ordained to her by Fate.
Her jewelled hands across the keys
Flashed through the twilight of the room,
A double light of gem and tune.
Flashed through the twilight of the room,
A double light of gem and tune.
Still while she played you saw that hand
Glide ghostly white, and fearless wave
Dead faces up from Memory’s grave.
Glide ghostly white, and fearless wave
Dead faces up from Memory’s grave.
The firelight flickered on the wall;
Sweet tears came to the heart’s relief;
She sat and sang us into grief.
Sweet tears came to the heart’s relief;
She sat and sang us into grief.
Yet now, she played some liquid song,
A happy lover would have sung,
If once he could have found a tongue—
A happy lover would have sung,
If once he could have found a tongue—
And now the sparkling octaves ran
Through the quick dance, where tangled braid
Now caught the sunlight, now the shade.
Through the quick dance, where tangled braid
Now caught the sunlight, now the shade.
And now the boatman’s evening song,
As, rowing homeward down the stream,
He sees his maiden’s garments gleam
As, rowing homeward down the stream,
He sees his maiden’s garments gleam
Beside the trees, the trysting-place;
While the sad singer whippoorwill,
Cries from the willow by the mill.
While the sad singer whippoorwill,
Cries from the willow by the mill.
Yet, howsoe’er her music ran,
A sigh was in it, and a sense
Of some dead voice that called us hence;
A sigh was in it, and a sense
Of some dead voice that called us hence;
A voice that even now I hear,
Although the hand that touched those keys
Rests on her heart, that sleeps in peace.
Although the hand that touched those keys
Rests on her heart, that sleeps in peace.
A PORTRAIT
Mrs. Carroll Dunham, September, 1877.
I KNOW not wherein lay the charm
She had in those remembered days.
The Olympian gait, the welcoming hand,
The frank soul looking from her face,
She had in those remembered days.
The Olympian gait, the welcoming hand,
The frank soul looking from her face,
The manly manners all her own—
Nor yet coquette, nor cold, nor free:
She puzzled, being each in turn;
Or dazzled, mingling all the three.
Nor yet coquette, nor cold, nor free:
She puzzled, being each in turn;
Or dazzled, mingling all the three.
Out of those gowns, so quaintly rich—
They grew, unshaped by Milan’s shears!—
Rose, like a tower, the ivory throat
Ringed with the rings the Clytie wears.
They grew, unshaped by Milan’s shears!—
Rose, like a tower, the ivory throat
Ringed with the rings the Clytie wears.
But, when you sought the Roman face
That on such columns grew—and grows!
You found this wonder in its stead—
The sea-shell’s curves, the sea-shell’s rose!
That on such columns grew—and grows!
You found this wonder in its stead—
The sea-shell’s curves, the sea-shell’s rose!
Her eyes, the succory’s way-side blue;
Her lips, the wilding way-side rose:
But, Beauty dreamed a prouder dream,
Throned on her forehead’s moonlit snows.
Her lips, the wilding way-side rose:
But, Beauty dreamed a prouder dream,
Throned on her forehead’s moonlit snows.
And, over all, the wreathéd hair
That caught the sunset’s streaming gold,
Where, now, a crocus bud was set,
Or violet, hid in the braided fold!
That caught the sunset’s streaming gold,
Where, now, a crocus bud was set,
Or violet, hid in the braided fold!
But, she, so deep her conscious pride,
So sure her knowledge she was fair—
What gowns she wore, or silk, or serge,
She seemed to neither know, nor care.
So sure her knowledge she was fair—
What gowns she wore, or silk, or serge,
She seemed to neither know, nor care.
She smiled on cat, or frowned on friend,
Or gave her horse the hand denied.
To-day, bewitched you with her wit,
To-morrow, snubbed you from her side.
Or gave her horse the hand denied.
To-day, bewitched you with her wit,
To-morrow, snubbed you from her side.
Loyal to truth, yet wed to whim,
She held in fee her constant mind.
Whatever tempests drove her bark,
You felt her soul’s deep anchor bind.
She held in fee her constant mind.
Whatever tempests drove her bark,
You felt her soul’s deep anchor bind.
In that dark day when, fever-driven,
Her wits went wandering up and down,
And seeming-cruel, friendly shears
Closed on her girl-head’s glorious crown,
Her wits went wandering up and down,
And seeming-cruel, friendly shears
Closed on her girl-head’s glorious crown,
Another woman might have wept
To see such gold so idly spilled.
She only smiled, as curl and coil
Fell, till the shearer’s lap was filled;
To see such gold so idly spilled.
She only smiled, as curl and coil
Fell, till the shearer’s lap was filled;
Then softly said: “Hair-sunsets fade
As when night clips day’s locks of gold!
Dear Death, thy priestly hands I bless,
And, nun-like, seek thy convent-fold!”
As when night clips day’s locks of gold!
Dear Death, thy priestly hands I bless,
And, nun-like, seek thy convent-fold!”
Then slept, nor woke. O miser Death,
What gold thou hidest in thy dust!
What ripest beauty there decays,
What sharpest wits there go to rust!
What gold thou hidest in thy dust!
What ripest beauty there decays,
What sharpest wits there go to rust!
Hide not this jewel with the rest—
Base gems whose color fled thy breath—
But, worn on thine imperial hand,
Make all the world in love with Death!
Base gems whose color fled thy breath—
But, worn on thine imperial hand,
Make all the world in love with Death!
SONNET
TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN
Dedicated to E. C. H.
OFT had I heard thy beauty praised, dear flower,
And often searched for thee through field and wood,
Yet could I never find the secret bower
Where thou dost lead in maiden solitude
A cloistered life; but on one happy day
Wandering in idle thought, with a dear friend,
Through dying woods, listening the robin’s lay,
I saw thy fairy flowers whose azure gemmed
The fading grass beneath a cedar’s boughs.
Oh never yet so glad a sight has met
These eyes of mine! Depart, before the snows
Of hastening winter thy fringed garments wet.
Thine azure flowers should never fade nor die,
But bloom, exhale, and gain their native sky.
And often searched for thee through field and wood,
Yet could I never find the secret bower
Where thou dost lead in maiden solitude
A cloistered life; but on one happy day
Wandering in idle thought, with a dear friend,
Through dying woods, listening the robin’s lay,
I saw thy fairy flowers whose azure gemmed
The fading grass beneath a cedar’s boughs.
Oh never yet so glad a sight has met
These eyes of mine! Depart, before the snows
Of hastening winter thy fringed garments wet.
Thine azure flowers should never fade nor die,
But bloom, exhale, and gain their native sky.
TO GIULIA, SINGING
SING me the song again, and yet again
Waken the music as it dies away;
Make twilight sadder with it, nor refrain
While yet these sighing winds bemoan the day.
Still let that wavering voice
Make my young heart rejoice,
Even tho’ one truant tear adown my cheek may stray.
Waken the music as it dies away;
Make twilight sadder with it, nor refrain
While yet these sighing winds bemoan the day.
Still let that wavering voice
Make my young heart rejoice,
Even tho’ one truant tear adown my cheek may stray.
Cease not thy singing, dearest, for mine eyes
Feed on thy beauty, and I hear the song
As one who, looking on the sunset skies,
Hears over flowery meads the south winds blow,
And down the purple hills the flashing waters flow.
Feed on thy beauty, and I hear the song
As one who, looking on the sunset skies,
Hears over flowery meads the south winds blow,
And down the purple hills the flashing waters flow.
An idle song; I cannot tell the meaning,
Yet, sing I o’er and o’er, for in its wings
It bringeth heavenly things:
Dear memories of melodious hours,
When all earth’s weeds were flowers;
Dear memories of the loved ones far away
Whom yet we hope to greet some happy day;
Dear memories of the travellers from Life’s shore,
Whom we shall greet again, ah! nevermore.
Yet, sing I o’er and o’er, for in its wings
It bringeth heavenly things:
Dear memories of melodious hours,
When all earth’s weeds were flowers;
Dear memories of the loved ones far away
Whom yet we hope to greet some happy day;
Dear memories of the travellers from Life’s shore,
Whom we shall greet again, ah! nevermore.
Cease, lady! Sing some song that brings again
The golden past, meet for this sunset hour;
Some breath of melody not fraught with pain,
Some gayly-tinted flower!
Let thy fair hand float o’er the willing keys,
And all my sorrows ease.
The golden past, meet for this sunset hour;
Some breath of melody not fraught with pain,
Some gayly-tinted flower!
Let thy fair hand float o’er the willing keys,
And all my sorrows ease.