3 <^c -z^ ■■^J,.AU a\ j^J D ^ -Vs\i\\iK?iVA :si\}\^ SIEIISQP4 i.wieiiSili. SONGS OF THE HEART THE HEARTH-STONE BY MRS. REBECCA S. NICHOLS. P PHILADELPHIA: THOMAS, C W P E R T H W A I T & CO CINCINNATI : J. F. DESILVER, 122 MAIN STREET. 185 i> Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by J. F. DESILVER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Ohio. E. MORGAN & CO., STEREOTTPERS, PRINTERS AND BINDERS, 111 Main Street. TO NICHOLAS LONGWORTH, ESQ.; THE EARXESr FRIEND OF EITEKATURE, AND GENEROUS PATRON OF THE ARTS, THIS VOLUME IS CORDIALLY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED, BY HIS OBLIGED rRIENT), R. S. K CONTENTS PAOE The Poet's Isle, 11 Stanzas by Moonlight, 15 The Lost Soul, 18 To A Poet, 24 Secret Love, 27 e.ehembrances, 30 The Pledge, 33 Indian Summer, 35 Foot-Prints of Winter, 37 The House of Clat, 41 Fanny, 44 The Lady Moon, 46 Lost and Won, 51 Stanzas, 55 The Separation, 58 Little Nell, 61 The Shadow, 63 Song, 67 To Hiram Powers, 69 The Bonnie Brown Bird in the Mulbeeey Tree, 73 Vi CONTENTS PAOS. TuE Spring Rains, 76 I yVlLh FORGET ThEE, 79 I ■^ILL NOT REPROACH ThEE, 81 The Broken Heart, 83 Morning, 87 A Hymn of Praise, 90 Silver Waves, 93 The Little Flower Seed, 95 Despondency, 100 The Farmer's Song, 103 The Daguerreotype, 106 A Letter, 108 The Little Maid and her Bird, Ill The Dead visit us in Dreams, 113 Beautiful Eyes, 116 The Widow, 118 Faithful Love, 121 I never wronged Thee, 123 Katharine, 125 Loved only, 130 Love's Recollection, 132 Helen, 134 A Vision, 136 To Frederika Bremer, 140 The Philosopher Toad, 143 Monody, 146 The Minstrel's Last Song, 148 To Ion, 151 The Soldier's Bride, 153 The End of Life, 156 My Friend, 159 To Frances, 162 CONTENTS. Vll PAOE. Love's Despair, 163 A Valentine, 166 A Song of Liberty, 169 Spring, 173 The Lady's Grief, 176 The Poet's Burial, 180 Death in the Country, 184 Love at First Sight, 187 What the Child Saw in the Fire, 189 Good Night, 192 Dirge for an Infant, 193 Song, 196 The Stars, 197 Child of the Angel Wing, 201 The Isle of Dreams, 203 A Dirge, 206 The Young Cherokee, 209 Memory, 212 November, 214 OhI Sing to Me softly, my Sister! 217 Little Lu-Lu, 219 Song, 222 Visions of the Eve, 223 To the Alleghanians, 226 He wants a "Wife, 228 The Little Flock, 231 Love's Adjuration, 234 Song, 237 The Jewess, 239 Come and dwell by the River of Gladness, 242 The Haunted Heart, 244 The Stolen Miniature, 247 Vlll CONTENTS. FAOZ. Sitting at tue Windcw^, 248 Wee "Willie, 251 Staxzas, 254 A Dream of Jenny Lind, 257 I've loved Thee too wildly, 260 Florence, 262 CORNIE, 264 Monody (General S. "W. Kearney), 267 The Maiden's Secret, 269 Lament of tue Old Year, 271 The City at Tavilight, 276 Song of the Madman, 279 The Last Blossom, 283 The Deserted Mansion, 287 A Word to Poets, 292 Farewell of the Soul to the Body, 296 Dirge (J. Q.Adams), 299 Death of the IJIameless, 302 On! MIGHT I POUR MY SoUL IN SoNG, 305 Parting, 307 To , Greeting, 310 The Dead Year, 313 Notes, 320 SONGS OF THE HEART THE HEARTH-STONE IMS THE POET'S ISLE. All night long, my soul is haunted By a dream of other days — Of a flowery Isle, enchanted, Hidden from the fierce sun's rays; Lighted by the softened splendor Of a holy, harvest moon, And the saint-like eyes, so tender. Glowing at the midnight noon. In this green and blooming island, Cluster sweets of every clime; All the charms of vale, and highland, Ripening with the breath of Time: 12 THE poet's ISLE. Fruits of mellow gold, the briglitest, Hang on branches drooping low ; Birds of song, with plumes the whitest, Drift like snow-flakes to and fro. "Wind-harps swing in every blossom, And each viewless, wandering air, Cradled on the Ocean's bosom. Hastes to waken music there: Grasses long, transparent, waving — Mosses, thick with buds inlaid. When my soul rejDOse is craving, Woo me to their velvet shade. Eound about, the waves are flowing. Murmuring wonders of the deep — Of the coral forests, growing Where the emerald ivies creep: — Of the lamp-like jewels, shining In the fretted, sea-washed halls. And the rainbow-shells entwining, Garlanding the crystal walls. Many a song like this they 've sung me In the old enchanted hours, Ere Life's serpent-woes had stung me. Couched amid love's purple flowers I THE poet's isle. 13 Many a song, of wondrous sweetness, "Which my heart can ne'er forget, Bearing with their dream-like fleetness, My most passionate regret! Well I know the luster beaming From those soft and cloudless skies; Well the odors, faintly teeming With the breath of Paradise: Well I know the rush of feeling Overwhelming heart and brain. And the subtile rapture stealing — Eapture which resembles pain. When or where my youthful spirit Found this sparkling isle of bliss. Which the angels might inherit (With no stint of happiness), I 've no power to tell in numbers, And slight knowledge where to place That which, haunting all my slumbers, No existence has in space! In the fadeless realms of Fairy, — In Imagination's clime. Where the banners, silken, airy, Float above the walls of time; ^4 THE poet's isle. There this Poet's Isle ma}' wander, Like a planet lost at birth, Till the enamored soul, grown fonder — Meets it midway from the Earth! STANZAS BY MOONLIGHT. Pale Empress of the midnight sky, What mournful recollections throng Around this heart, once swelling high "With tides of love, and hope, and song I No age thy loveliness can dull; Ko time thy lustrous brow may dim; — Of all the orbs most beautiful That through the heavenly azure swim. Long years have come — long years have sped- Since first thy light on Eden shone; And millions of forgotten dead To their eternal sleep have gone: And saints have sufiered and have died; — Great warriors sated with renown, — "With kings and captives, side by side. Have in their crimson guilt gone down! 16 STANZAS BY MOONLIGHT. What peaceful beauty blessed thy sight, AVlien Eve first slumbered in her bowers; And all the stars that watched the night, Enamored hung, above the flowers: When low winds, with their spicy breath. Young odors whispered where she slept. And guiltless yet of sin or death. The Earth its dews of gladness wept! What visions since have met thy gaze! What crimes and madness hast thou seen! What evil nights and murkier days Have onward rolled, no space between! What change has come o'er hill and vale! O'er mountain, crag, and rocky glen! O'er forest, leveled by the gale! — And river, stagnant as a fen! One night in glory thou didst rise Above a green untrodden field, And thousand hearts, and thousand eyes Were lifted toward thy silver shield: — The pure light of each holy beam Descended with the twilight tears. And danced upon the rushing sti'cam, Or flashed among the glittering spears. STANZAS BY MOONLIGHT. 17 The clarion's voice — the drum's deep note Aroused sweet Echo in her cave, Who quickly from her mellow throat Sent back their music o'er the wave: — Next eve, thy x^ale, but radiant face Looked downward on a sea of blood, That filled that fresh and grassy space, And dyed the river's sparkling flood! Thus broken hearts, and bitter woes, And hopeless sorrows, unrevealed. And friends, by hatred changed to foes, Have silently to thee appealed! One tithe the fearful knowledge thine Would sink the soul in deep despair. For even burdens such as mine. Seem more than human strength can bear! Oh ! even as thou 'rt shining now, 1 've seen thee oft, in other years ; Ere lines like these were on my brow. Or on my cheek the trace of tears; And even thus, above my tomb. Though kindred forms may never bend, 1 know thou 'It pierce the rustling gloom, And watch the lone mound like a friend! THE LOST SOUL. My soul went out in darkness, like the moon, When sudden clouds drive o'er the midnight sky: And life was at its zenith, the hot noon Had scorched and withered with its flaming eye, All of my Spring's sweet children that could die; But some there were, though shrunken by the fire, Bright blossoms gro'svTi for immortality — Stood up beneath the fierceness of that ire. As strings, though broke, will cling unto the master's lyre. The year was young — it was the tender May, Whose violet-sandled feet were wet with dew; The roses budded on the nodding spray, And leaves were gi'cen upon the solemn yew That from the bosom of the church -yard grew; THELOSTSOUL. 19 The moss assumed a softer, deeper tone, Where streams tripped lightly o'er their pebbled way, And in its emerald robes, with diamond zone, The Earth lay like a child that sleeps without a moan. The soul that wandered through the halls of night, Where darkness curtained every windowed dome. Was stung to madness ere it fled the light; And as a star unsphered might wildly roam Through seas of space, and airy clouds of foam, Blind to all laws that govern, rule, or guide, Still shooting onward in its dreary flight! Thus did that soul from this warm life divide. And rush where darkness rolls its strons: and swollen tide. The year was young, and to the blushing morn That came all smiling from the arms of night — And to the soft-eyed flowers then newly born — And to the winds that whispered their delight Where wingc'd odors nestled from the sight ! My heart, in passionate entreaty cried, ( Still bleeding inward from a deadly thorn ), "Oh, give me back my soul! the true — the tried — " But Echo's empty voice alone to it replied! 20 THELOSTSOUL. Along new paths, o'er beds of perfumed thyme, Whose soul exhaled beneath my lingering tread; And under roofs, where soft the yellow lime Shone like faint stars amid the leaves o'erhead; And through the valleys, where the way-worn dead Had made firm covenant with Death for rest From all the tortures of this present time — This heart, still throbbing wildly in its breast. My half reluctant feet, yet onward, onward pressed. Through lone, black forests, and through blacker caves, The darkness rustling like a velvet pall, Where roars the sound of unseen, hurrying waves, That dash against the adamantine wall, Or rush all sullen to their dreadful fall! Xo star e'er lighting the perpetual gloom, But where the imprisoned wind more hoarsely raves, Whirling its victims to an awful doom, If guideless they go down the fearful, sunless tomb! On, o'er frail bridges swung from steej) to steep Of cloud defying cliffs, whose dizzy height The fearless chamois scarce would dare to leap! While far below, oh ! wan and dismal sight Lay bleaching bones: — the traveler shrinks in fright. I THELOSTSOUL. 21 As leaning midway o'er tlie deep abyss, His shuddering nerves like adders o'er him creep! While flashing through his brain, are thouglits like this — " How short a step is here to lasting woe or bliss ! " And onward still! through long, bright summer days, "When sunshine rippled o'er a sea of grass ; Down mossy hollows — over briery ways — Through lonely gorge and arched and rocky pass, Whose gloomy grandeur pierced my heart — alas! That not a moment of one perished hour. E'er held a rainbow in its glittering rays, To lure me up to an immortal bower, Where Hope, divinely bright, shines out through cloud and shower ! At length the Autumn, drunken deep with wines Drained from the purple grape, reeled o'er the land; His frosty fingers pinched the rambling vines — His breath came cuttinsi; throuji-h the breezes bland: On fruit and flower was laid a palsying hand ; The long-drawn notes of insect-lyres no more Thrilled the young twilight of the whispering pines; A stillness stole along the wood and shore. And Summer's gentle trance, with all its joys, was o'er. 22 THELOSTSOUL. But ever still was this m}^ heart's shrill cry, (That, like a prisoned eagle, beat its bars). Oh! give me back my soul, thou pure blue sky, Or draw me upward to thy sphered stars. Enthroned like gods upon their flaming cars. Their wheels strike fire as swift they roll through space • Oh ! leave me not alone, my soul, to die ! Give me one print thy flying track to trace, Lest, lifting up my voice, I curse thee and thy race! But the sky heard not, and the moon grew dim, As mists wound upward from the sleeping vale ; Like giant forms, they climbed the Heavens' blue rim, And all the stars grew sudden faint and pale, As through the forests came the hollow wail Of spectral winds, that madly SAvept along, And in the pauses of the Ocean's hymn, Burst into chorus, wild, and deep, and strong. Till all the caves of Night o'erflowed with mournful song ! Then, by the margin of that mighty river That rolls between us and the shores of rest, Whose bitter waves flow on, and on, forever. With hapless shipwrecks on their heaving breast, Drifting, like shadows, toward the climes unblest- THE LOST SOUL. 23 My -wandering feet were stayed — and there I mourned The broken arrows in Life's golden quiver — The ashes dead that on Hope's altar burned ; "While all my vital part for its lost essence yearned. And still I sit amid the rustling reeds, — The plume'd flags that rock upon the breeze; Amid the sands, and shells, and briny weeds, And broken boughs of branching coral trees, The sparkling waifs of dim and distant seas : — My heart, still wailing that which fled before. Counts its last moments, as a nun her beads, "With eager haste, to pass beyond the shore "Where anguished ones may rest, and night returns no more ! TO A POET, As a lark springs at morn from the sweet meadow dew, As it cleaves the bright sun-light and soars through the blue, Thus thy soul, in its youth, sprang aloft from the flowers That freshened and brightened its slumbering hours. Far up! through the blue heavenly pathway of song, With wing swift and tireless! with flight bold and strong; Now, soaring away to an island of light — Now pausing to sing with the seraphim bright, Who hover where Heaven's wide portals unclose. And the soul steals a glimpse of immortal repose! How oft by those gates, on their hinges of gold, Have the harps of the Masters, whose bosoms are cold. Been strung to the sounds that enravished tlieir ear. That filled them with wonder, or thrilled them with fear! T O A P O E T . 25 How oft, ■when the twilight of evening came down, And jewels burned bright in the night's starry crown. Hast thou sat by that portal, with hand on thy lyre, Thy heart filled with Heaven — thy spirit with fire. And breathed the rich strains that recalled a young dream — The first that was glassed upon Life's sunny stream. Ere storm-clouds had rufiled those halcyon days, Or my footsteps had wandered from life's pleasant ways ; Ere my young lip had tasted of bitterness here, Or the Heavens that bound me, were dimmed by a tear: — It returned to my soul like the dove to the ark, Or as back to its nest comes the sky-piercing lark, All weary and drooping it laid down to rest. Like the dove in its safety — the bird in its nest ! Magician of beauty ! how marvels the world When the banners of music, by angels unfurled, EoU out on the breeze, and float over thy brow, Unseen by the crowd as it worships below! Magician of beauty! come listen to me, Far o'er the dark waves of this life's stormy sea. There 's a palm-shaded isle in the River of Song, Unknown to the hearts of the world-lovine; throne, "Where the breeze that e'er loves the sweet lip of the flower Is fresh, as when wandering in Eden's lost bower, 26 T O A P O E T . Where the skies are all cloudless — the waves are all light, Where the groves are all freshness, and where is no night: Thou knowest the realm — thou wilt answer my prayer. At the glow of the eve our free souls shall be there 1 SECRET LOVE, Thou wert another's, wheu I met thee; This I dreamed would shield me well,- Now I sti-ive but to forget thee, Wildly struggling with the spell, — Words I whisper— words of madness, Clothing thoughts I fear to tell! Thou wert another's! did I listen To thy low and manly voice. Brighter would my dim eyes glisten And my faint heart, how rejoice! Could I think it aught but friendship? Wert thou not another's choice? Thou wert another's; she did love thee! But her love was cold to mine; Other's voice might never move me Like the lightest tone of thine — Thoughts of thee were precious jewels Lighting up my spirit's shrine. 28 SECRETLOVE.' Thou wert another's! close beside thee Dreamed I many an hour away, Time, nor distance, can divide thee From this throbbing heart to-day; For its pulses strong are beating With a mighty passion's play! Thou wert another's; — thou didst wonder Seeing me so sad and ill — Smiling, rent my heart asunder. While the pulse of life stood still ; — That I lived to look upon thee Was not by my act or will. Thou art another's ! had I never Risen from that blissful trance, But had sunk to sleep forever Where the sun-beams gaily dance, — Tell me, would thine eye in sorrow On the marble watcher glance ? Thou art another's ; — no emotion Ever may betray me now ; Of my burning, deep devotion, Thou canst never, never know ! Though I still shall wander near theo, Still shall hear thee whisper low. SECRET LOVE. 29 Thou art another's ! thou wouldst scorn it Couldst thou see this breaking heart; And this wretchedness, I've borne it Tliat I might be where thou art, Worshiping, when gazing on thee, Weeping, when I sit apart. Thou art another's ; — Ah ! how weary Is the soul that knows no peace: Wide, wide world, so sad and dreary — Shall this sorrow never cease ? Shall I hurry down life's ocean Craving, finding no release ? KEMEMBRANCES. Sweet eve of June ! beside my lattice lonely, I kneel and gaze upon yon orbs of ligbt; They are as mirrors, from which one face only Looks down upon me through the dreamy night ! Those eyes so deep, and dark, all eyes transcending. With searching glance are bent upon me now. While Eden-dews in gentle showers descending, Rain cool and freshly, on my feverish brow. The starlight revels on the woody mountains, And wanders brightly through the haunted dells. Or lingers by the old and stilly fountains, Beside whose springs, primeval silence dwells ; The thirsty blossoms lift their urns, delighting To catch the drops that fall from Heaven's gates, — The snowy Cereus, day's embraces slighting, In bridal beauty on the evening waits. EEMEMBKANCES. 31 Oh ! once my heart had leaped with very gladness, To see such glory on the face of Earth, But hopeless love has clasped it round with sadness, And locked the rosy gates of laughing mirth. There was a time, when I had loved to listen To all sweet symphonies played by the breeze — To watch the leaves whose silver linings glisten When sun-light arrows pierce the shivering trees. There was a time, when through the dark green rushes I loved to wander in my childish play, When merry as the small, sweet-throated thrushes. My songs rang out through all the summer day : Then from the fragrant, low, and thorny hedges, I culled the wild-rose by the morning's beam, Or, daring flew to pluck the flaunting sedges That grew within the narrow, winding stream. There was a time — pale Memory is stealing Unto the past, her eyes, with tears all wet ; While I, with deep, and wild impassioned feeling Glance back upon tliat time^ when first we met! It was an eve in June, the fairest, brightest. That stole within the arms of fainting day, Each pulse of my young heart was beating lightest, When like a sudden blight he crossed my way. 32 • REMEMBRANCES. I may not blame him, — / was nothing to him : Another claimed his noble heart and hand ; I would not, had I dared, have sought to woo him From her, the fairest, gentlest of the land. But that sweet eve of June, once more returning. Once more, I raise my weeping eyes above, Where in each star in mystic splendor burning, I see the face of him I madly love ! THE PLEDGE. Musing on thy lengthened absence, As I lonely sit to-night, Thus, beloved one, I pledge thee In a goblet, deep and bright: Now I hold the liquid treasure. Up between me and the blaze, Marking with a childish pleasure, Splendors changing in the rays. For the glass is stained a purple, Rich and royal is the hue, And I freely drink its nectar. As a blossom drinks the dew: Oh ! it is a famous vintage, Yet its age I may not tell. And, believe me, love, I would not, Even tho' I knew it well ; 3-4 THE PLEDGE. For the smile that lights thy features Soon ■would leave them very blank, As in doubt thy lips would murmur, " Oldest wine was ever drank !" Yet no grapes were crushed in brewing. And no stain was on the sod Where it first came foaming brightly From the wine-press of our God ! From the bright and gentle river Poet-voices love to praise, Came these sparkling drops that quiver In the warm and ruddy blaze; Singing birds that warbled near it, Left their voices in the stream, "> And the orbs that slione above it Made it all the brighter seem. Thus, beloved, as I raise it To my warm and thirsty lip. Do I wish thy hopes may brighten As the waters that I sip : And my faith again I pledge thee, "With this fervent seal and sign. That my love were worthless, had 1 Drunk to thee, in lees of wine ! INDIAN SUMMER. It is the Indian Summer time, The days of mist, and haze and glorj, And on the leaves in hues sublime, The Autumn paints poor Summer's story; " ' She died in beauty,' " sing the hours, "And left on earth a glorious shadow;" " ' She died in beauty,' like her flowers," Is painted on each wood and meadow : — She perished like bright human hopes, That blaze awhile upon life's altar; And o'er her gi*ecn and sunny slopes. The plaintive winds, her dirges falter. It is the Indian Summer time ! The crimson leaves, like coals are gleaming, The brightest tints of every clime. Are o'er our Western forests streaming; 36 INDIAN SUMMEK. How bright the hours ! yet o'er their close, The moments sigh in mournful duty, And redder light around them glows, Like hectic on the cheek of beauty. Fair maiden, when thy spring is o'er, And all th}^ summer flowers are gathered, May Autumn, with a golden store, Replace the buds so quickly withered ; And bind unto thy heart this truth. That it may live when dead thy roses, "Religion is the light of youth. And gilds life's autumn, as it closes." FOOT-PRINTS OF WINTER. Hakk ! how wild the winds are sighing, Moaning, fretting, shrieking, dying, And the helpless leaves are flying Madly on their way : For a while the Autumn rested, And the death-white frosts he breasted. Till his hoary front was crested — Crested with decay ! Through the long and narrow arches Of the green and graceful larches, Solemnly and slowly marches "Winter and his train ; At his tread the grass grows crisper, And each mother's petted lisper, Shinking from the air, will whisper " That the cold is pain ! " 88 FOOT-PRINTS OF WINTER. Days are into darkness shrinking, Clouds unto the earth are sinking, And the iey fetters, linking, Bind the shallow streams: Spring's sweet hours of sunshine solely. Summer twilights soft and holy, In these days of melancholy Seem like distant dreams. Look we for no fair to-morrow — Spade and plow have left the furrow — And the rabbit from its burrow Steals with noiseless tread : Hushed the brook's melodious prattling, - But the winds and leaves are battling. And the sleeted boughs are rattling O'er the coffined dead ! Yonder, where the rocks are jutting, Though the air is keen and cutting, Little s(piirrels go a-nutting, In the hazel brake: Underneath, a river 's toiling — Itage within its bosom boiling ; You may see it, writhing, coiling. Like a w^ounded snake! FOOT-PRINTS OF WINTER. All the forest's dim recesses, Which the sunshine seldom blesses, Shorn of leaves and viny tresses, Have no secrets now : Quietly the ivy 's creeping Where the blighted flowers are sleeping, And the blast from Northward sweeping Drives the sinless snow. Eound the hearth, when first assembled, Tears npon our eyelids trembled. Though the lips a smile dissembled. As each strove in vain To hide the drops of sorrow stealing. Or the woe of buried feeling. As the past, our loss revealing. Stabbed the heart again! See ! once more she lightly dances, And her sweet and loving glances Fill my lonely twilight fancies With a world of light: Up to Heaven — up to Heaven Her frail bark w^as swiftly driven. But her soul, all white and shriven, Shines upon our night! 40 FOOT- PRINTS OF WINTER. Thus, when tempests rage around me, Thus the darkness oft has found me, And these thoughts have strongly bound me With their wildest spell: Then the Winter seems less dreary, And the fire-light shines more cheer}', For a YoiCE, when I am weary, Whispers — "It is well ! " THE HOUSE OF CLAY. In years to come, this House of Clay, (Whose wondrous tenant dwells within), "Will moulder into drear decay. With all its furniture of sin : — Ere then, its halls shall darkened be ; — Its windows shall no more unclose; Through chambers, fashioned cunningly, Will creep a host of ruthless foes. Too soon the soldiery of Death May this frail citadel surround, One blast of whose triumphant breath Can fell the fabric to the gi-ound ! Of what avail, oh ! tenant-soul, Thy life-lease, when that hour shall come, And down Eternity shall roll Thy summons to a viewless home? 42 THEHOUSEOF OLAY. Of what avail thy gorgeous dreams — Those costly draperies sublime, Whose brilliant dyes, and golden gleams. Grow dim with age, and fade with time : Whose magic warps, and charmed woofs. Alternate wrought with smiles and tears. Shall crumble from the airy roofs That arch the splendid domes of years ! Of what avail thy longings vain — The countless and the unfulfilled : The blooming hopes, long nursed with pain, In garden-spots in secret tilled ? How valueless thy wealth shall prove — Each chosen word — each treasured thought Thy strong resolves, and stronger love. Weighed in the balance' — found as naught. *o' How wilt thou meet that horn* of dread, Which fills the boldest heart with awe ? That bore to all the millions dead The one eternal, changeless law ! How wilt thou leave this House of Clay, That from the barren dust arose. To meet that bright and perfect day Which thy new temple shall disclose ? THE HOUSE OF CLAY. 43 What guest hast thou received within ? What spirit hast thou entertained ? What forms of darkness and of sin Have thus thy very threshold stained ? Thou canst not answer : — in thy halls Have reveled passion, sin, and pride ; Their story "s gi-aven on the walls, Too deeply cut — too darkly dyed! Where slept the sentinels of good When evil crept within thy door? And stirred to mutiny the blood These slumberers should have guarded o'er? Where languished conscience, with her bow, When her white fortress was assailed ? Had she no arrow for the foe Who thus her yerj ramparts scaled ? Oh ! tenant soul ! may gi-ief and tears For woeful, wild temptations passed. Along thy path, through coming years, A sweet and gentle sadness cast; Thy clouded faith — thy purpose weak, The faults, the follies which are thine, — Go lay them all, like Mary, meek. Low at the feet of Love Divine ! FANNY, Oh ! bright as the leaves in the dawn of the year ; As timid and shy as a young forest deer ; As fair as the lilies that float on the wave, And gay as the linnet, though quiet and grave ; — Our star-beam at night, and our sunshine at noon, "Was the sweet little Fanny, who blossomed in June! How blue were the Heavens that smiled on her birth. As she came, with the flowersj to brighten the earth ! And meek as the blossoms that hide in the wood ; As pure as a dew-drop, and gentle as good ; And graceful in form as a fairy or fay, Was the violet-eyed Fanny, all worshiped last May! FANNY. 45 Our deer of the forest was wounded by death, How soon, like the buds, then, exhaled her sweet breath ; Her journey was swift, from the cradle to grave, As the lilies that fade on the breast of the wave, — And breezes and blossoms shall whisper "how soon!" As they sigh o'er the gi*ave of young Fanny, next June! THE LADY MOON. When Earth was in her maidenhood, and all the world was young, And fair creation's morning song by trembling stars was sung, The Lady Moon, a lovely dame, with queenliest form and gi'ace, First in the peerless courts on high, unvailed her pensive face. She walked in maiden loveliness, where Yespee wandered free. And each a dazzling image flung upon a dazzling sea: " Oh ! stay thy brilliant footsteps !" said the lovely Lady Moon, " I have a tale to whisper thee before the midnight noon. THELADYMOON. 47 '' Thou knowest that my lover bold, the gallant Day, one June, Entreated me to visit him the fourth stroke after noon: I thought it not unmaidenly, and wandered out that way, And stood within the palace of the blazing, burning Day ! The boldness of his glances then — his insolence of mien. Aroused my trembling modesty, enraged me as a queen ; And looking in his brightest hall, I saw the dazzling friend He said, would all my wishes learn, to all my wants attend. " I knew my brow had paler grown, but waving an adieu, I said, 'Fair Day, some other dame, perchance may wed with you; But I, yon azure Heaven's queen, could never reign where one Would far outshine my meeker charms, as would yon gi-aceless Sun ;' Then, with an arched and angered brow, I sailed from out his sight. And quickly met hem, face to face, the gi-ave and dark- browed Night. Oh ! Yespek, as I looked on him — his gi-aceful robes of gloom Had more delight and charms for me than Day's most rosy bloom. 48 THELADYMOON. " He looked so proud and terrible, when hovering o'er the sea, That from his shadow on the rocks, I fled half fearfully. His brow was bent above the Earth, his mantle fell around, And all his garments, drenched with dew, were moistening the gi-ound. Then from my silvery-quiver bright, I flung a steady beam. That fell ux^on his shadowy brow, like some soft seraph dream ; He felt its gentle influence, and gazing on my form. The silver beam upon his brow grew faintly flushed and warm ! "I will not tell thee how we met, at each recurring eve. But will give thee some kind missions, love, before thou takest leave: Go swiftly to our brilliant Court, and use thine utmost speed. The stars must know that now we wed a kingly mate, indeed : Go say to stately Jupiter — to Mabs, our warrior bright, It is our will that they should wait upon the royal Night ; Then bid the sister Pleiades, the brightest of our train. To meet us, with the maiden throng, upon the azure plain. THELADYMOON. 49 " Upon the noble, valiant knights, our strict commands we lay, To marshal all the starry hosts along the Milky Way ; "We meet within the Eastern Courts, above where Ocean glides. For yet, my bridegroom knows me but as ' Mistress of the Tides.' " Bright Yesper floated down the sky, and left the Lady Moon To weave her silver bridal vail, and lace her sandal shoon ; For oh ! a fairer pilgrim than the Heaven's haughty queen Was never by the listening Earth, her elder sister, seen. The joyous hours went dancing on, and Earth grew won- drous bright, Broad rivers wound across her breast, like veins of liquid light ; The blossoms, buds, and leafy trees, thrilled like a harp new strung, And fresh young winds, new born above, with plaintive sweetness sung. The Lady Moon, with blushing face, then glided up the sky — The kingly Kight, with purpled robes, met her embrace on high : 4 60 THELADYMOON. The music of the spheres was heard, a deep, delicious strain, "Whose waves of melody upheaved like waves upon the main! Oh ! lovely Moon ! oh ! solemn Night ! when first ye wedded were, The Earth a bridal -chorus rung, and knelt your wor- shiper ; And living poets, often since, have, in their hymns sublime. Your praises sung in nobler strains than swell this simple rhvme. "LOST AND WON." In the days of sad September, "When the sun shone full and clear, And the hours, as I remember, Were most changeful of the year, To the woods, still leafy, solemn, In her grief, a maiden fled, — Paused beside a prostrate column That once wore a crowned head, And seemed to live, so green its mosses. Though its hollow heart was dead. " Monarch ! " said she, speaking sadly, "Monarch, once, of forest shade. Would that I had never madly From thy loving shelter strayed ; 52 LOSTANDWON. Then my hand had stayed the lifting Of the glittering ax to thee, And dead leaves might now be drifting Underneath a living tree — Underneath the broad-leaved branches "Which so often welcomed me. "i^ow, the very sunbeam stealing O'er this moss, which wraps decay, Seems to bear a touch of feeling For the monarch, dead and gray: Dead, to all that once delighted — Dead, to summer dews and showers — Gray with grief, mildewed and blighted ; Only these few pallid flowers Nod in mournful beauty near thee. Through the long autumnal hours." Then her tears fell bright and slowly, And the wood-moss drank them up. Though it seemed but poor and lowly. Each spear bore a jeweled cup, — And her words of sweet complaining Fell like music on the breeze, "While her heart seemed filled to paining "With such woeful strains as these: As her spirit bent in sorrow 'Neath life's darker mysteries. LOSTANDWON. 53 " Lost and won ! " she said, still sighing, As her eyes swam in their tears ; " Lost and won ! — when I am dying, Shall these specters of my years Rise in brighter shapes beside me, (And like stars in midnight set), "With their beauty still deride me. When my soul would fain forget All of darkness, in its Distant, All of sorrow and regret ? " Lost and won ! I heard them praying Once beside an open tomb, "When my childish feet were straying Through the wild and grassy bloom ; As I lightly paused to listen. Said a voice, ' Our friend doth sleep. And though painful tears may glisten Li these eyes, unused to weep, He lost to win! Go, erring brother, Sow the grain which thou wouldst reap.' "But /'v(3 lost, in life's sad venture. That which ne'er returns asfain ; Careless scoff, or friendly censure, Fall alike on heart and brain — 54 LOSTANDWON. Lost, the freshness of youth's feeling! — Lost that eagerness of soul, First to grasp at Hope's revealing! (Though we never reached the goal) First to leave, when sparkling pleasure Came with false and brimming bowl. "Thus I've lost a happy spirit — Thus I've won a troubled breast! — Born to love, I but inherit Love's despair, with its unrest: Thus, like thee, all green with mosses, Stricken tree, I 'm dead within, — Wearied with life's heavy crosses. And its burden, too, of sin, I have lost, and lost forever. More than I dare hope to win ! " STANZAS. When the snowy arms of Death, Like a shroud, encircle thee, And his cold benumbing breath StiUs thy pulse's melody ; Then beside thee, lowly bending, Fondest friends, shall seek to trace In the blow, our bosoms rending. Tokens of Almighty grace. Daily, as we see thee fade Like a blossom on the bough, Chilling in the wintry shade. Frosted dews upon its brow. How we turn aside in anguish. Chiding tears that flow too free. Lest thy loving heart should languish, Witnessing our grief for thee! 56 STANZAS. Thus to see the vital spark Trembling in its wasted frame, Waiting, longing to embark For the haven whence it came — "Who could blame our sad concealings, From thy meek and watchful eyes, Of the dark and troubled feelings That within our bosoms rise? Daily strive our lips to say — "Father! let thy will be done!" Nightly, kneeling, do we pray — "Father spare our gentle one!" Thus, from Death, we seek to shield thee. Hoping, where no hope avails ; Knowing that His hand hath sealed thee — That His arrow never fails! When we fold thee on Earth's breast. Greenest turf we'll gather there; Sweetest dews shall lightly rest On that bosom, once so fair. Yes ! for thee the tears of Heaven, From the concave's deepest blue, Noiselessly shall flow each even In the droppings of the dew. STANZAS. 57 There the tender buds of Spring First shall open to the day, Light their little bells shall ring To the robin's roundelay ; And a breezy voice, while straying Through the narrow, vaulted aisles. Sad shall sigh, like mourners praying God's forgiveness and his smiles. Lo ! across thy path of life Death's white shadow's stealing now; Let me not behold the strife — Let me still in meekness bow, God be with thee, gentle spirit, Now His angel fondly calls — Yielding life, thou wilt inherit Life within our Father's halls. THE SEPARATION. Calm scorn on the lip, and wild love at the heart, — Thus madly we parted, as enemies part; But few words were spoken, yet sharper than death The meaning that stole from those lips with thy breath, One lightning-winged moment o'erwhelmed me with tears By agony drained from the fountain of years The clasp of thy fingers was colder than ice. And still they seem clutching my heart like a vice; Thy blue eyes were tearless — their light, like a coal. In the white heat of anger, burned deep in my soul : Too ready to listen — too quick to believe. Thou 'It learn, when too late, that the fair can deceive; Thy pure mind was poisoned — thy reason enslaved — Far better above thee the vdllow had waved: Far better to weep o'er thy passionless clay. Than thus to remember our parting, that day. THE SEPARATION. 59 Thy heart is of flesh, though thy bosom is steel ; Though iron the cell, still the captive can feel ; And they who were deaf to the prisoner's call, Have shuddered, ere now, at the blood on the wall ! Look well to THY captive, and lull it to rest. Lest, hopeless, it dash 'gainst the steel of thy breast ! I wandered, last night, in my dream, by thy side, "With bosom all torn by my anguish and pride ; Thy voice, like a serpent, slid into my heart. Its sting, the sharp words which have rent us apart. White lilies drooped over thy bosom more fair ; White roses were looped in thy long flowing hair; Yet whiter than lily or rose, in my dream, Were the lips that have robbed me of hope's latest gleam ! Old men wag the head, when they see me thus sad ; I hear the young whisper, "He's mad — he is mad I" The babe, as it lies in a sweet waking trance. Smiles pityingly back to my agonized glance ; And sunlight is warm on my white, clammy brow, But snow on the Alps is not colder than thou ! Thou beautiful scorner — thou mm'd'ress of men, Ne'er hope, in this world, to be happy again ! My pierced love shall lie, like a corse, at thy door, With fond eyes upturned to thy gaze, evermore I 60 THE SEPAKATION. Farewell ! — I have worshiped ! — farewell ! — it is vain — The idol hath maddened my heart and my brain ! No word softly spoken — no treacherous smile — Shall cheat my sad spirit — my sorrow beguile ! I walk in the valley — I wander in shade — The spell of the sorc'ress upon me is laid ; She leads me at will through the blackness of night, — Through dim, frosty regions — through kingdoms of blight: I see but her image above and below, With her white lip of scorn, and her cold hand of snow! LITTLE NELL. Spring, with breezes cool and airy, Opened on a little fairy; Ever restless, making merry, She, with pouting lips of cherry. Lisped the words she could not master. Vexed that she might speak no faster, - Laughing, running, playing, dancing, Mischief, all her joys enhancing; Full of baby-mirth and glee. It was a joyous sight to see Sweet little Nell. Summer came, the green earth's lover, Ripening the tufted clover — Calling do^vTi the glittering showers. Breathing on the buds and flowers ; Bivaling young pleasant May, In a generous holiday ! 62 LITTLENELL. Smallest insects hiimmed a tune, Through the blessed nights of June : And the maiden sang her song, Through the days, so bright and long- Doar little Nell. Autumn came ! the leaves were falling • Death, the little one was calling : Pale and wan she grew, and weakly, Bearing all her pains so meekly, That to us, she seemed still dearer As the trial-hour drew nearer ; But she left us, hopeless, lonely. Watching by her semblance only : And a little grave they made her. In the church-yard cold, they laid her- Laid her softly down to rest, With a white rose on her breast — Poor little Ilell ! THE SHADOW. Twice beside the crumbHng well, Where the lichen clingeth fast — Twice the shadow on them fell, And the breeze went wailing past. " Shines the moon, this eve, as brightly As the harvest-moon may shine; Stands each star, that glimmers nightly. Like a saint, within its shrine ; Whence the shade, then, whence the shadow? Canst thou tell, sweet lady mine?" 64 THESHADOW. But the lady's cheek was pale, And her lips were marble white, As she clasped her silken vail, Floating in the silver light: Like an angel's wing it glistened, Like a sybil seemed the maid ; But in vain the lover listened, Silence on her lips was laid — Though they moved, no sound had broken Through the stillness of the glade. Brighter grew her burning eyes ; Wan and thin the rounded cheek: Was it terror, or surprise. That forbade the lips to speak ? To HIS heart, then, creeping slowly, Came a strange and deadly fear ; Words and sounds profane, unholy, Stole into his shrinking ear. And the moon sank sudden downward, Leaving earth and heaven drear! Slowly from the lady's lips Burst a deep and heavy sigh, As from some long, dark eclipse, Kose the red moon in the sky : THE SHADOW. C5 Saw lie then the lady kneeling, Cold and fainting by the well ; Eyes, once filled with tender meaning, Closed beneath some hidden spell: What was heard he dared not whisper. What he feared were death to tell. The little hand was wondrous fair Which to him so wildly clung ; Eaven was the glossy hair From off the snowy forehead flung ; Much too fair, that hand, for staining With a crime of darkest dye: — But the moon again is waning In the pale and starless sky ; Hark ! what words are slowly falling On the breeze that sweeps them by ? " Touch her not ! " the voice it said, "Wrench thy mantle from her grasp:" Thus the disembodied dead Warns from that polluting clasp; "Touch her not, but still look on her; All an angel seemeth she; Yet, the guilty stains upon her Shame the fiend's dark company ! But, her hideous crime is nameless Under heaven's canopy." QQ T H E S II A D O W . Twice beside the crumbling well, Where the lichen clingeth fast; Twice the shadow on them fell, And the breeze went wailing past : — Twice the voice's hollow warning, Pierced the haunted midnight air; Then the golden light of morning Streamed upon the lady there; They who found her, stark and lonely, Said the corse was very fair. SONG, I ASK not my soul why this bosom should thrill, When I meet the fond glance of thine eyes; I wish for no s^^bil, with magical skill, To read the soft meaning of sighs: — I know there are feelings deex? hid in my breast. Like the lightnings, that slumbering lie. On a warm summer eve, in the heart of the West, Till awakened, they flash o'er the sky. As I gaze on the river that sweeps by thy door, One thought my whole being enslaves, I whisper it not to the white-pebbled shore, Lest it murmur the tale to the waves. I look on the stars, but they vanish so soon As thy footsteps recede from my side; A sea that is shoreless — a night without moon — Are the moments our spirits divide. 68 SONG. Then come to me here, with thy summer-like voice, Which breathes of the brightness to be, And exultant, once more, shall my spirit rejoice, For I live not unless I 'm with thee ! And I '11 ask not my heart why this bosom should thrill When I meet the fond glance of thine eyes. Nor seek for a sybil, with magical skill, To read me the meaning of sighs. TO HIRAM POWERS. Sculptoe! by the Arno's wave, O'er the Ocean's trackless sand, Yearns thy heart for home and grave In thine own dear Father-land ? Exiled from thy native shore. By the high claims of thine Art, Thou art freeman to the core — Thou art "true as steel," at heart! Ever, through thy lofty soul. Where thy great creations teem, Thoughts of friends and Country roll In an overwhelmino- stream! 70 TO niRAM POWERS. Pictures of thy boyhood's home — Memories of each wood and vale, Seem to thee, across the foam, Like a dream-told fairy tale : — Like an elfin legend read On some long, bright summer day. When the hours, now dim and dead. Strewed with flowers thy narrow way. Though thy hands have made a gi'ave Under bright Italian skies ; — By the silvery-shining wave, Though thy bud of promise lies. Still thy thoughts turn steady — true As needle to the northern pole, O'er the Ocean's waste of blue, Unto their dim and distant goal ! What has kindled thus thine eye? What has flushed thy thoughtful brow ? Genius from the templed sky Broods above thy spirit now ! TO HIKAMPOWEKS. 71 Sitting in thy silent room, The clay, within thy skillful hands, — As if risen from the tomb — Soon thy thought, fuU-shapen, stands. Thou hast thrown around its form All of beauty — all of grace, And a soul, divinest charm ! Lights the pure, expressive face! Can it be, thy Country's car Alone is deaf to high renown ? Through what cold, dull, atmosphere, Is she blindly looking down ? Waits she, till the hand is dust ? That has carved a deathless name, Which no age can ever rust — Which adds luster to her fame ! Waits she, till the eye is dim ? And the proud high heart is mute ? Ere she opes her arms to him — Ere she plucks her ripest fruit ? 72 TO II I R A M r O W E R S . She may wakeu, when too late, And her soul within her burn, As she mourns, in regal state, O'er a cold, reproachful urn ! Sculptor! by the Arno's wave, O'er the Ocean's trackless sand, Loving hearts and spirits brave, Woo thee back to Father-land ! THE BONNIE BROWN BIRD IN THE MULBERRY TREE. In a green meadow, laced by a silvery stream, Where the lilies, all day, seemed to float in a dream On the soft -gurgling waves, in their bright -pebbled bed ; — Where the emerald turf sprang up light from the tread. In the days that have vanished, forever, for me There grew in its prime a red Mulbekry Tkee. How stalwart its form — what a wealth of green leaves ! Where the sunlight came sifting, like rain through the eaves, With a right royal canopy stretched overhead. And the ruby -like berries strung on a gold thread. Enticing the birds, and enticing to me. As I swung through the air, 'neath the Mulberry Tree 1 74 THE BONNIE BROWN BIKD 'Twas cunningly fastened, that swing, on a bough, And the rich-freighted branches brushed lightly my brow, As up I rose higher than others might dare, And tasted the joys of the birds in the air ! — "While one little warbler, with throat full of glee. Built its nest every Spring, in the Mulberky Tree! Oh ! sunshine, that mocketh, whose light is so cold. Where, where is the glory, that crowned you of old ? Where hides the soft splendor that brightened the ways. And dazzled the child, in those spell-woven days ? Where sings the sweet bird, that once sang unto me, From its zephyr-rocked nest in the Mulberry Tree ? Away w^ith this thought ! — let me dream like a child ; Let me bound o'er the meadow, with hair streaming wild ! Once more in the swing, I have nothing to fear, The sun shining brightly, the Heav'ns beaming clear. And hark ! 't is the strain of a lost melody From the bonnie brown bird in the Mulberry Tree. Sing on ! — is it true I e'er wandered from this ? That I've drank of each sorrow — have tasted each bliss? That the World, with its lures, with its lies and its art. Has rolled a cold stone o'er the tomb of my heart? Is it true, laughing meadow — oh, verdurous sea! That a child swings no more 'neath the Mulberry Tree ? IN THE MULBEKRY TREE. 75 Sing on ! — how it steals o'er each chord — through each vein, And fills every sense with an exquisite pain ; ISTow whispering with memory, now murmuring of love. Now lifting the soul to the star-realms above : Thus Hope, in my heart, sang once sweetly to me, As the bonnie brown bird in the Mulberry Tree! Sing on, gentle minstrel, as upward I spring Through the element rare, in the rapturous s^\dng! Ah ! yes, those are tones once familiar in years, Ere the bolt was shot back from the gateway of tears ! How long — oh! how long, wilt thou sing thus to me, Thou bonnie brown bird of the Mulberry Tree ! How long? — It has ceased: — The hoarse drum and the throng, Have broken the thread of its Heaven-taught song: The meadow has faded — the lilies have died ; The stream, in its bed, has been shrunken and dried ; And no child ever swings there in innocent glee, Or hears a brown bird in the Mulberry Tree ! THE SPRING RAINS. The sky is sullen and gray, — The clouds bang heavy and dark On the lowering brow of the opening day ; And bushed in the glen is the blithesome lay Of the mellow-throated lark. For more than a weary week All the heavens have been in tears ; And the hoarse winds sob where they whistled bleak Through the old elm tops, by the swollen creek — The haunt of our early years. The streams in the mountains rush With arrowy swiftness down: From the rocks and the hills the waters gush, While the lifeless stalks and the underbrush Are sapless, dripping, and brown. THE SPRING RAINS. 77 The earth is somber and sad, — The faces look gloomy around The heart of the farmer's no longer glad And the seed he sowed he wishes he had, From its coffin under gi'ound. Grass is beginning to peep On the bare and sloping hills, But the trees that fell, last autumn, asleep. Still mournfully nod, and mournfully weep. As the rain comes down in rills. Walls are discolored and damp, — Urchins' hair only in crisp, — The heaven 's unlit night or day by a lamp While travelers follow far off in the swamp, The light of Will-o'-the-Wisp. The school boy 's sullen and grim, For rivers run down the street. And what is a holyday, pray, to him, If he is to stand by the window dim, Forbidden to sail his fleet? The ground is soaking below, — The clouds are soaking above, — The skies yet darker and murkier grow, And spirits are down, and pulses are slow, And no one 's falling in love. 78 THE SPKING KAINS. A pleasant thing is the spring, And a pleasant thing is rain, For the gentle showers bright blossoms bring. But a fortnight's flood is a tedious thing, And ruins the farmer's gi'ain. I WILL FORGET THEE! I WILL forget thee, when the spring is over, I whispered faintly to thy haunting shade, When murmuring bees, from out the sweet-breathed clover, Steal honey -laden down the silent glade; When deep, dark forests, with their penciled shadows. Thick draped with summer foliage uprise; And when, like ocean isles, the upland meadows, Unroll their verdure to the dewy skies. But now, the spring, with magic light and beauty, But bids me fold these memories to my breast; The sterner voice of pride, and woman's duty, Not now may break my sweet, delicious rest. I will forget thee ! Ah ! the summer breezes Come stealing softly through my casement bars, — Still memory, faithful to the by-gone, seizes Upon the past: and here beneath the stars. 80 I WILL FORGET TIIEE. Where summer dews drop downward with a blessing, Where none might dream of earthly sin or ill, Against my very will, and wish, transgi'essing, I kneel and clasp this love-dream closer still ! Oh ! not in summer, when each flower is telling A tale of passion to the dainty air, Bereave me of the bliss my bosom swelling. To plunge me outward into deep despair. I shall forget thee, when the year is dying. When rosy hours no more throng round the day ; And cold and colorless the leaves are lying. That quivered brightly in the solstice ray ; When each thing fair and lovely has been stricken, And Beauty's children level lie in dust; When tempest-bearing clouds more darkly thicken, And birds the sunshine and the air distrust, — Then, shall autumnal spirits, grieving, wander Among the ruins of the seasons past. And this fond heart shall cease to hold and ponder The hopes, so fed and cherished, to the last! I WILL NOT REPROACH THEE I WILL not reproach thee ! my Hps shaU be mute ! Even song and sweet music, once mine, Shall tremble no more from my heart's broken lute — The fond heart, that so ti'usted to thine ! For Hope, who sat down by the well-spring of life. There to watch the bright blossoms that grew. When Passion and Pride swept them down, in their strife. Left the fountain so desolate, too. I will not upbraid thee ! mine eye shall not fall, In its sadness and sorrow, on thee ; But hidden away, from the glances of all, Oh ! this heart, thou hast broken, shall be : The bosom that throbbed with the passion and bliss, With the flutterings of hope and of love, Now pants for the world that is truer than this — For the rest of the Eden above. 82 I WILL NOT KEPEOACH THEE. I will not reproach thee ! although thou hast turned All the fountain of joy into tears ; I will not reproach thee, although I have mourned, O'er the mildew that blighted my years : — The dreams, that like angels, came nightly to me; And encamped round my sorrowless breast, I never again in sweet slumbers may see. Till forgetfulness lulls me to rest. I will not reproach thee ! — tlty dark hour shall come^ "When the love thou hast flung from thee here, A specter, will rise in the joys of thy home. There to crush, and o'crwhelm thee with fear — I know thou wilt tremble, for phantoms shall throng- In the portals that lead to thy heart, In dreams thou shalt see the lips hallowed by song Lying ghastly and speechless apart! I can but forgive thee, but ah ! like a curse This forgiveness shall cling to thy soul ! And thoughts that will torture thy heart with remorse Shall but darken, and deepen the whole: The past, it shall mock thee, when drooping thy head By the clay that once loved thee so well, And looks of the pale and the passionless dead. In thy memory, forever shall dwell ! THE BROKEN HEART. Poor broken heart! so crushed and helpless lying; I knew thee in thy fresh and early youth, When all the sweet, young hopes, now dead, or dying, Sprang into life with beauty, trust, and truth. How sti'ong and vigorous, then, thy pulse's beating, — What ardent, eager life leaped through thy veins ! When Love and Hope, two mighty currents, meeting. With glowing waves gave each a silent greeting, — And rolled together through life's arid plains. — Poor Broken Heart I Truth, Trust, and Tenderness ! the fairest features, Stamped by Humanity upon thy face ; — Strong love for God, and God's unfaithful creatures ; All kindly feelings for thy fallen race, — 84: THE BROKEN UEAKT. These marked thine early years — young years of glad- ness ! When thou wert spotless as the newborn light, Ere crossed thy threshold, gloom, or grief, or sadness, Or woes that drove thee to the verge of madness, Enshrouding thee in darkness thick as night — Oh, Broken Heart! And once what dreams of life stole gently o'er thee, What joy to quench thy thirst at each bright stream. Each well of bliss that opened up before thee Its sparkling waters in life's morning beam : Then angels came with peaceful ministration, With softest solace for each passing sigh ; And God's sublime, and glorious, wide creation ! Claimed all the incense of each sweet oblation For lessons taught, which but with thee can die — Poor Hopeless Heart! How didst thou tremble, when Love, like a river. First overwhelmed thee with its waters deep ; Oh ! had the waves but calmly flowed forever, I should not now thy hapless shipwreck weep ; THE BKOKEN HEART. 85 But dark suspicions, doubts, like storms, assailed thee, And thou wert driven from thy peaceful shore. When all of Hope, of Earth, of Heaven, failed thee. Then those, who scorned, in piteous tones bewailed thee, For they might mar thy rest nor beauty more — Poor Broken Heart! How wert thou stricken when Death's icy finger Pressed down the long fringed lids of sweet young eyes, "Which seemed, with fond and earnest looks, to linger On those best loved beneath the bending skies. Didst thou not strive with passionate caresses. To hold these frail ones in their beauty here ? But they, with dewy lips and golden tresses. Returned to Earth, who now their slumber blesses With daylight's rosy beam and evening's tear. Oh, Broken heart! Poor stricken heart, now softly, faintly throbbing, No hand can string anew thy broken chords, No voice may still thy languid, feeble sobbing, Or soothe thy weary hours with gentle words ! 86 THE BKOKEN HEAKT. 'Tis death in life! a palsy rests forever On all thy hopes — they bent beneath the spell As early blossoms which the north winds sever, — Then give to joy, to strength, to all endeavor A lasting, hopeless, long, and wide farewell! — Poor Broken Heart! MORNING, A BKEATH of summer air, Laden with foreign odors rare, Steals through my casement, while the drowsy hours Fly from voluptuous morn, "Whose gold and purple lights are korn, Where dews weigh down the cool hearts of the flowers. The tremulous light of day, Kindles the Eastern mountain way — And to its dark abyss, the dusky night returns ; Through green and lonely dells, "Where the full heart of Silence swells. Heaven's orb of fire with mildest luster burns. In clouds of ^vreathing snow, "Where the low-lulling streamlets flow, In graceful garlands, round the mountain's head, — Bright shines the diamond mist. Like beauty's scarf, by moonbeams kissed, Or angel vestments o'er an Eden spread ! 88 MOKNING . Along the gi-assy aisles, Where the green forest broadly smiles, The moist, plump berries, shine among their leaves. And from the trampled flowers Of odorous herbs and spice-wood bowers, A subtile fragi'ance o'er each bruised leaf grieves. The birds, with jocund voice. Make all the hills and gi-oves rejoice. With flowing cadence of delicious sono; ! — The clouds, as in a dream, Move far above the lazy stream, That shadows beauty as they glide along. And human life awakes. And from the bonds of slumber breaks, Pouring its tides through all the city's veins : Upon his feverish bed, The languid suflerer turns his head, And hails the morning light amidst his pains. From the glad realm of dreams, Its heaven-capped mounts and silvery streams ; From groves and gardens of supreme delight, The wandering spirits come Back to the eddying strife and hum, To chase dim shadows through this world of niijht ! MOKNING. 89 Back to the toil and rust, Turning to stone our human dust ; Bacl^ to the crushing cares that come with years, Which make deaf ears and cold. To the beggared, weak, and old, And scorch Youth's flowery path with burning tears. Ay, these are they, that crave The deep oblivion of the grave! That long to fall asleep forevermore — Let us pray their weary eyes May unclose in Paradise, "When Morning breaks on the Eternal Shore! A HYMN OF PRAISE, 1 BLESS Thee, Father ! for that secret power That fills my soul with many a voiceless song; That smiles in beauty on the darkest hour, And 'midst its sufierings makes the wruno; heart strong ; That power that lifts us from this duller sphere, Rolling oblivion o'er each haunting care. That finds a rapture in the secret tear. The multitude can never know nor share ; I bless Thee, for the sweet transporting thrill My being feels when looking on Thy works, From boundless Ocean to the smallest rill, From grove to forest where the red man lurks, Or steals, ere long, to gaze upon the sea ; Ilis heart, as treacherous and wild, — his limbs as free! A HYMN OF PKAISE. 91 I bless Thee, for the sunshine on the hills, — For Heaven's own dew-drops in the vales below, — For rain, the parent cloud, alike distils. On the fond bridegi'oom's joy — the mourner's woe! And for the viewless wind, that gently blows Where'er it listeth, over field and flood. Whence coming, whither going, no man knows, Yet moved in secret, at Thy will. Oh ! God ! E'en now it lifts a ring of shining hair From off the brow close to my bosom pressed — The loving angels scarce have brows more fair Than this, that looks so peaceful in its rest : — We bless Thee! Father, for our darling child, Oh ! like Thine angels make her, innocent and mild ! I rise, and bless Thee, for the morning hours; Refreshed and gladdened by a timely rest, When thoughts, like bees, rove out among the flowers. Still gathering honey where they find the best: And for the gentle influence of the night (Oh ! Heavenly Father ! do we bend the knee). That shuts the curtains of our mortal sight, Yet leaves the mind, with range, and vision free, — For dreams ! the solemn, weird and strange, that come And bear the soul to an elysian clime, — Unvailing splendors of that better home Where angels minister to sons of time ! 92 A HYMN OF PKAISE. For all thy blessings that with sleep descend, Our hearts shall praise Thee, God, our Father and our friend ! And yet, for more than these, I bless Thee still ! For more than mind hath thought, or lip hath sung. For that, to which in life's most desperate ill. Thy martyred saints like dying heroes clung ! For that which gilds despair, and gives a breath Of gladness to this cavernous vale of gloom ; That spreads bright sunshine round the bed of death, And leaps the darkness that engulfs the tomb ! That mounts on pinions through the circling air, And sweeps through regions of the blackest night : — No tongue may tell, what he may do or dare, "Who bears within this wondrous scroll of light ! Like the still voice of God, it calms the spirit's strife. And kneeling thus, we bless Thee! for the hope of FUTUEE LIFE ! SILVER WAVES. Silver waves ! Silver waves ! Flowing to sweet music's law, On the shore your brightness laves, I kneel in rapturous awe ; — There's not a cloud upon the sky, — Moon and stars are floating by, Dimpling all the waters near, With sparkles, bright as Beauty's tear ; Silver waves — silver waves, Thus forever onward flow, Breathe no whisper of the graves That lie so cold below. Silver waves ! silver waves ! Singing, rippling up the beach, There 's not a shell yon islet paves, But may a lesson teach : 94 SILVER WAVES. Hark ! they moan unto the breeze, In ceaseless songs, of distant seas ; Thus a heart, whose joys are fled. Sighs and sorrows o'er its dead: — Silver waves — silver waves, Thus forever onward flow. Breathe no whisper of the gi'aves, That lie so cold below. Silver waves ! — silver waves ! Fare ye well ; it is the hour. When midnight from its dusky caves, Comes forth with solemn power : — The long-forgotten rise around, — Pale shadows creep along the ground, And mocking lips to mine are pressed, Which once my happier moments blessed, Silver waves ! — silver waves. In mournful music onward flow. While these phantoms from their graves, In starlight, come and go. THE LITTLE FLOWER-SEED. I WAS a little wayward child, and knelt beside lier knee, "Who taught my infant lips to pray, to Thee, Oh ! God, to Thee! My childhood's busy day had passed, and twilight meek and mild. Lay on the throbbing brow of Earth, like slumber on a child. I knelt me gently at her knee, and Evening's herald-star. In all its spring -tide loveliness, streamed on us from afar : There lay within my tiny grasp, a seed of nut-brown hue, She i)romised that my hands should sow, when fell the morning dew. 96 THE LITTLE FLOWER-SEED. My treasure then, to her 1 gave, and laid me down to rest, While sleep, with all its dreamy train, stole gently o'er my breast: With what delight, when morning's beam across my chamber fell, I rose, and hastened to her side, I '11 linger not to tell. The sun had risen o'er the hill, the mist rose in the vale; And on the sparkling river's breast swept by the swelling sail : My first, and sweetest memories, are of that blessed spring, When hours were long, and sunshine warmed and smiled on everything. That picture still, I clearly see, limned by sweet memory's hand ; And still in day-dreams wander back to childhood's fairy land, — Though all the hopes that budded then, now lie with drooping head. Within my heart's cold narrow cells, like rows of spectral dead. But on that fair and pleasant morn, my heart no gi-ief had known, And holdino; fast the little seed I wandered forth alone: THE LITTLE FLOWER-SEED. 97 Within a sweet and shady place, where taller blossoms grew, I laid the tiny, nut-brown seed, beneath the mould and dew. Each twilight bore me to the spot — each morning saw me there, For sTie had said it soon would rise and colored blossoms bear ; The sunshine struggled to its home, among the sheltering leaves, And sparkling raindrops gathered there, when rose the svimmer breeze. They told me. Earth, its mother was, and nourished it below, And moistened it with little rills, which God had caused to flow. One morning, how my heart did beat, when looking close, I found A tiny, white, and slender stalk, was shooting through the ground. How fast and silently it grew! how quick the leaflets came ; And soon a little bud appeared, tinged like a crimson flame ; 7 98 THE LITTLE FLOWER-SEED. "When all its silken leaves uncoiled, I saw it upward turn, To catch the drop that nightly fell, within its polished urn. One morn I stole, with thoughtful pace, to my accustomed haunt. When prostrate on th' unconscious Earth, lay blossom, leaf, and plant — I grieved me then, as children grieve, and weeping, vainly sought. For that, which had untimely death unto my treasure brought. And, when in after, riper days, our Father did us bless. With one sweet bud, to watch and love, with holy ten- derness ; I thought upon the blighted plant I raised in early years. And on my new-born blossom's brow, rained down some burning tears. Alas ! He was an annual too, which early frosts did crisp. When first his little voice began a mother's name to lisp : — They bore him to his garden-spot, and there, in shade, he lies ; But, like the seed I sowed in hope, we know, he too, will rise. THE LITTLE F L O W E R - S E E D . 99 I mourned not as I 've heard those mourn, who have no faith to bear Their spirits up, beneath the weight of crushing, deep despair ; But dried my tears with faltering hand, resolved to bear my part. And wear within a wounded breast, a cheerful, humble heart. Two other dowers were given us — of them I dare not speak. For tears have overwhelmed mine eyes, and tremble on my cheek ; — Enough to know, that once they lived, and all too early died — That in one little garden-spot, they slumber side by side. DESPONDENCY. Oh ! KAYLESS morn, that brings no dawn to me ! Though linked by gold to chariot of the sun, The rose-clad hours, with fresh and sparkling glee. Dance down the Heaven's blue slope, till, like a nun. Sad Twilight comes — her vailed face bowed in prayer. Above the couch, where rests departed day ; One jewel gleaming through her purple hair. Ere starry evening sweeps her shadowy form away. All night I tossed upon a billowy deep — A surging sea of black, o'erwhelming waves. That rolls along thy marge, oblivious sleep ! Flowing from horrid springs, in secret caves : All night a hideous dream lay at my heart. And poured its venom in my shrinking ear ; At every breath, a stinging swarm would start, And light upon my soul, that shook with aspen fear. DESPONDENCY, 101 Small fiery serpents ate into my breast, — And evil things, that nameless live and die, Sucked all the honey from my hours of rest, Scaring sweet sleep from oif the drooping eye ; "Whence the afirighted seraph quickly fled To tear-wet orbs, which soon forgetful grew. Of all their sorrows, by affliction bred, And in Elysian bowers, lost dreams beheld anew. But oh ! no slumberous balm, with healing power, Fell on my waiting, longing, hoping eyes. Though darkness came, and shut the tender flower That opens only to the sunlit skies ; — Though each small blade of grass, and quivering leaf, By grateful showers, and Heaven's own breezes nursed. Drank in, with rapture, night's delicious grief — My lips were parched and dry — my being racked with thirst. Time's leaden wheel moved all too sluggish then, Though each slow revolution furrowed deep The field of Hope, whose azure-blooming grain The canker-worm and blighting mildew reap. The stars walked silently the halls of Night, Where, ever and anon, one seemed new-born ; The increasing moon, in bark of silvery light, Kode down the ethereal waves, and sunk before the morn! 102 DESPONDENCY. Then dawn crept up behind the freshened hills, And all the fires went slowly out above: The gates of sleep unlocked, a thousand rills Of music poured from plumed tree and grove: Upon the dew-fringed boughs, the little birds Perched high, and mocked me with their warbling glee: The tinkling bells of distant browsing herds Won from my palsied sense, no answering melody. The morn had come to earth, and night was o'er; The waves, enkindled by the flames of day. Lay like a shining girdle round the shore. Or dashed the winged barge with diamond spray : — The morn had come, but brought no dawn to me ; The gulfs of darkness yawned before my sight, — While lean Despair, with torturing, ghostly glee Shrieked, "never, never more," and shut the gates of light ! THE PARMER'S SONG. The meadow-grass awaits the scythe, The clover-blooms invite the bees, And many a song is caroled blithe By minstrels of the bough and breeze: I've wandered out since early dawn, The morning dews are sweet to me, Each graceful shrub upon the lawn Assumes the shape of Cakolie. Oh! Carolie — young Cakolie! A loving heart I bear for thee. My fortunes, humble though they be. Are not disdained by Carolie. 1 drive the freshened team afield. Or guide the plow with steady hand; The harvests their abundance yield To us, who sow and till the land. 104 THE farmer's song. I stand amid my native woods A son of nature, simple, free, — Or seek the mossy solitudes, With winsome, modest Caeolee ! Oh, Caeolie ! wise Cabolie ! Not all the schools could teach to me That which I've learned in loving thee. My heart's instructor — Cakolie. The forest is my favorite book, I daily bend above its leaves ; The cheerful music of the brook Makes glad my heart, but never grieves, - "While oft, in cities, music's breath Is but delicious mockery ; The lip may sing, the heart beneath Be dead, or breaking, Cakolie. Oh, Caeolie, pure Caeolie ! Thou couldst not be so dear to me K thou to Fashion bowed the knee, My simple, artless Caeolie ! In heart, she 's tender as a child ; She's loving, trustful, kind, and true; A blossom, blooming in the wild. Where fairer blossom never gi-ew — In every green and fragrant grove. THE farmer's song. 105 "Where roves the humming-bird or bee, I've told the flowers my happy love, And borne them home to Cakolie. Oh! Cakolie, dear Caeolie, More wealthy suitors there may be. But I for thee, and thou for me, — This, this contents us, Carolie I THE DAGUEEREOTYPE. INSCRIBED TO E. C. HAWKINS, ESQ. "I HAVE brought you a beautiful bird, mamma! — A bird without feather or wing ; They said, if I spoke not a word, mamma, The birdie might whistle and sing! "Then they caught it, and put it in here, mamma, And fastened it close in its case; And they told me to bring it to dear mamma, And ask her to show me its face." I opened the clasp, and before me there sat, Like an alderman, filling his chair, A queer little rogue, with a mantle and hat, And solemn and wondering air ! Enraptured I gazed, while the dear little elf Stood pleading, in vain, to be heard : — "You look a long time, now I want it myself; Oh, mamma, do give me the bird ! " THE DAGUEEKEOTYPE . 107 Thou lark of my bosom, thy dear infant voice Is sweeter by far to my ear Than melodies warbled, where forests rejoice. In the brightness and bloom of the year. Thou 'rt nestled away in the folds of my heart, Like youth on the bosom of Love ; Oh ! never may fowler allure with his art My sweet "tassel gentle" to rove. Though storm-winds may rise, and sunder the bough That shelters thine innocent head. Yet while it has vigor to shield thee, as now, No tempest need fill thee with dread. The artist who drew my young bird in his snare, And penciled, with beams of the sun, A picture with truth, life, and beauty so rare, Has fairly a recompense won, I 've coined him a verse from the mint of the mind — The trifle to him shall belong; — With many warm wishes, both friendly and kind, Sir Artist, accept of this Song, A LETTER. The wild wind 's abroad o'er the Earth, my love, The stirrer of ternpest and storm. And see how the cloud-shapen warriors above, Their hosts on the battle-field form : On, onward in close-serried ranks they come. The stars in their watch to appall, And as armies on Earth to the stirring drum. They march at the Thunderer's call ! The moon struggled up from the silver-tipped wave, With a flushed and an angry brow. But darkness, as black as the hungry grave. Is enshrouding her pallid face now ; Low down in the West, is a fringe of soft light That edges with gold a dark cloud ; One glow-worm-star stands alone in the night, And the owlets are shrieking aloud ! A LETTER. 109 The gi'ass is as diy as the mourner's eye, When hot tears, there are none to weep : And the swallow is scared from its perch on high, While the infant moans in its sleep: A wail of lost spirits is on the breeze. That rattles the lattices round. And rustles the leaves on the tossing trees, Witli a chilling and moaning sound. I ■ ve waited full long for this elfish hour. For down in my bosom's strange deep. An echo responds to the weird-like power That startles the winds from their sleep: They may tremble, who will, at the lightning's blaze. At the flash of each fiery dart, I still on its fierceness and splendor can gaze, Undismayed, and unshrinking at heart ! 1 know that thy nature is like unto mine, As a star may look down on the sea. And back from the deep its own image will shine — Thus my soul is reflected in thee! The pen that I hold, with its sharp point of steel, Is alluring the lightning's blue flame. And I know at this moment thy spirit will feel, A rapture too deep for a name ! 110 A LETTER. For the wires that stretch from the East unto West, (Swift messengers winged by light), Thrill not so soon to the magnet's sure test. As these chords that our beings unite. Though seas should divide, and between us should rise A desert — a wilderness wide. In my heart's inmost core there quickening lies, A something, would leap to thy side! In sunshine and tempest, in weal and in woe, Belove'd ! wherever thou art, With whatever of sorrow, thy soul shall o'erflow, Or of joy, that shall gladden thy heart, — I still will be with thee, to suffer and share. To mingle my hopes with thy fears ; For the love, that life's danger and evil can dare, Cannot die with the perishing years ! THE LITTLE MAID AND HER BIRD. Deserted home and forsaken hearth! Where has the step of the graceful gone ? Shaded and dim was the beautiful Earth, "When the star of your heaven went out ere dawn. Where is the light of her sunny brow? Where is the flash of her loving eyes ? And the rounded cheek, with the roseate glow Of blossoms that open in Paradise ? Quenched in the night of the cruel grave — Crisped by the frosts of the spoiler. Death ; Away in the depths of his silent cave, He feasts on the sweets of her honeyed breath ! Where are the waves of her flowing hair ? The infant voice with its silvery glee? The delicate step, and the dainty air, And bosom as fair as the angels be? 112 THE LITTLE MAID AND HER BIRD. Down in the lone and mysterious tomb, --. / All the bright threads of her rippled hair, Cannot illumine the sunless gloom, For darkness and Change, are brooding there. Over the snow of her baby breast. Lightly are folded the waxen hands. She sleeps, like a seraph, that steals to rest. By the chiming streams, in the heavenly lands ! Under the fingers, so dimpled and white. Lies the bright form of a minstrel bird; But, never more, at the closing of night. Shall its mellow strains in the morn be heard. It drooped, when the dear little hand that fed. Came to caress and to feed no more; And when she departed, they found it dead In the gilded cage, by its prison door! Dust unto dust — let the violets spring, And boughs of white roses above her wave. And living birds in their nests shall sing A dirge for the one in the maiden's grave ! "THE DEAD VISIT US IN DREAMS." "When this frame is lulled to slumber, By the silence of the night ; And my soul from chains that cumber, Wings a swift and transient flight: In what island, of yon ocean Blue and ti'embling, filling space ; Star-like in its shape and motion, Shall I see thy sainted face ? If in Aiden, I should meet thee. In the dreamer's holy land ; With what presence wouldst thou greet me In what guise before me stand ? Shall I know thee, by the flowing Of thy tresses, long and bright ? Shall I know thee by the glowing Of those orbs of azure light ? 114 THE DEAD VISIT US IN DKEAMS. Can I claim thee by the glory That surrounds thine angel brow ? Or behold there Death's pale story, That so crushed me here below ! Wilt thou glide once more before me, In the garb of other years ? Ere from these fond arms they tore thee, Leaving madness in my tears ! Will thy voice in lute-like measure, Sweetest music softly toll, Bringing with its own deep pleasure, Recognition to my soul ! Shall I call thee, fairest, dearest, By the tender names of yore, — Only love ! my heart's sincerest, For I wear thee at the core ! Cruel frost! that came and blighted Loveliest blossom of the spring. Come unto this breast benighted, — All thy icy teiTors bring! I would brave the rushing river. Rolling through the vale of death, Might I clasj) again forever, One who perislied at thy breath. THE DEAD VISIT US IN DREAMS. 115 But in vain, — I can but meet her In the mystic realm of dreams; There, indeed, my soul may greet her, By the ever -murmuring streams! In what island of yon ocean, Blue and trembling, filling space, Star-like in its shape and motion, Shall I see thy sainted face? BEAUTIFUL EYES. IK80RIBED TO CORSSLIA. It is night in my bosom, oh ! would thou wert here, To brighten the darkness and banish my fear! But away with all gloom — not a shadow shall rise Between my fond thought and thy beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes ! beautiful eyes ! No gem ever shone under Orient skies, That could dazzle the sight like thy beautiful eyes ! Whether softened by love, or all sparkling with light. They shine on my spirit like stars on the night ; One glance is a volume, such eloquence lies In the fathomless depths of thy beautiful eyes ! Beautiful eyes ! beautiful eyes I Italia may boast of the blue of her skies, I sing the bright hue of thy beautiful eyes ! BEAUTIFUL EYES. 117 As the still waters gleam through a fringe of dark leaves, Where the ring-dove at evening in melody grieves, Thus streams of soft light from their deep wells arise. And shine through the fringe of thy beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes ! beautiful eyes ! More changeful and glowing than Florida's skies — All bend to the glance of thy beautiful eyes ! Oh ! dark is the tress on thy forehead of snow, And thy heart is the ring-dove that murmurs below ; That thrills us with gladness, or saddens with sighs. As it smiles — as it weeps, through thy beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes ! beautiful eyes ! The monarch his gems and his jewels may prize. But their luster is dim by thy beautiful eyes ! THE WIDOW. I KNEW in childhood's years, a matron beauty, Around whom lingered all the charms of youth ; In her had passion early bent to duty. And woman's pride to woman's fervent truth. Men called her fair, but words of admiration Fell lightly on her cold and careless ear. Though she was lovely as the fond creation That haunts the fancy of a dreaming seer. Her brow was like the queenly night's in splendor, — Its snow, the moonlight pure, might not eclipse ; Her eyes made starlight, liquid, deep, and tender, — Bright scarlet broidered o'er her loving lips. I saw her in the croM'd, the worshiped onl}^. Where flatterers thronged, and fawning steps drew near ; I saw her in the hut or cottage lonely, With gentle soothing hand, and angel tear. THE WIDOW. 119 They knew her not, that called her cold, unloving — They knew her less, who thought her life too gay ; For, like a planet in its orbit moving. She held o'er all her shining steady way. Thus she became to me a special wonder, "Whose elements, I longed to have revealed, — Knowing that fire oft swept the surface under, While outwardly, the snow and ice congealed. At length I heard from those sweet lips her story, — Iler brow was calm, though tremulous her voice ; She spoke of one, her young life's hope and glory ; An early passion — a young maiden's choice. She loved, as woman loves, and trusted blindly, As woman trusts, the idol of her dreams ; Her bosom warm, and innocent, and kindly, Ne'er mirrored doubt upon its sunny streams. They proved him false! nay, worse — a reckless scorner Of all things holy, good, and true: — at best His love had but the scathing whirlwind borne her ; Enough: — she tore his image from her breast! Long months had passed — her very heart seemed frozen ; No breath might warm the cold dead ashes there; Still she the wiser, better path had chosen. And faith upheld her in her soul's despair. 120 THE WIDOW. At length one came — not with old love's caresses, While overacting the adorer's part, But, as the sun shines down, and gently blesses The drooping flower, — thus shone he on her heart. She told him of her first, her darkest trial, — His love, unselfish, but the stronger grew; And as the hours flew by, on life's pale dial, The wedded pair a quiet rapture knew. But, in their Eden, Death, remorseless, entered, And left her desolation's cup to drain ; The hopes fresh budding, and the love fresh centered, Shrunk 'neath the blight, like fields of thirsty grain. She walked alone, most lovely in her sadness. Still sought of many — giving love to none ; Unto the lowly, a bright dream of gladness, — But, to the world, the cold and heartless one! FAITHFUL LOVE. Our love came, as a dream of Spring Comes o'er the sleeping Earth ; And gave the heart's young flowering buds An instant, pangless birth : Our life had been a winter-toil, — Our hearts were as a winter-soil, — A frozen, sterile ground ; Till thoughts of love, on glittering wing, Like birds, gave harbinger of spring, — Then verdure sprang around. Our love came, as the early dew Comes unto drooping flowers ; Dropping its first sweet freshness down On life's dull, lonely hours : As each pale blossom lifts its head, Revived witli blessings nightly shed, 122 FAITHFUL LOVK. By summer breeze, and dew, — Oh ! thus our spirits rose beneath Love's gentle dews and living breath, To drink of life anew ! Our love came as the morning light Comes to a darkened world, When, from the eastern battlements, Bright banners are unfurled : Then, as the nations rise from sleep, Kose, in our hearts, the passions deep Which silence watched above ; — And life, warm life, the wondrous, strong, In mighty currents swept along 'Neath banners of our love ! Our love flows, as a river flows Within its borders green ; Though on its surging bosom oft, A hapless wreck is seen : — Unskillful hands may guide the helm. And waves the bark may overwhelm, — The river runneth still ; And ever in its channel flows, — And singing toward the Ocean goes — Forgetting every ill ! I NEVER WRONGED THEE. I NEVER wronged thee ! yet, when daylight slumbers, And Earth lies folded to her midnight dreams ; When shine the countless stars, whose host outnumbers The restless sands that flash where Ocean gleams; — Then, when this heart so lonely, cold, and weary, Chafes in its prison, like a captive bird. Thy form amid night's gloom and shadows dreary, Steals in with quivering lip, and mocking word ! I never wronged thee! yet thy presence haunts me, I know thou'rt distant and yet deem thee near; — I hear thy whispered tones — thy pale brow daunts me, Filling mine inmost soul with dread and fear : Why should I drink thus deep of grief and sorrow? Why mourn in secret o'er the changeless past ? No hope for coming years — each pale to-morrow With darker, deeper shadows overcast! 124 I NEVER WRONGED THEE. I never wi'onged thee ! — vows were never spoken, Sweet-worded vows of trembling, deathless love ! — Too many such are breathed — too many broken, Laughed at by Earth, though sacred deemed above: Why then reproach me ? oh ! thou gentle-hearted. Why ban and banish quiet from this breast? Had we not gladly met, or sadly parted. One heart, at least, might still have dreamed of rest. I never wronged thee! — yet my doom is ever To wake and weep — to weep and wake again ; — Eternal mind ! oh, haughty, strong endeavor. How have I wrestled with this ceaseless pain ? Still, still in silence thou dost come to mock me! For thy soul's fearful grief / bear the blame — One boon, oh. Death ! to lasting slumbers rock me, And blot from earth my being and my name! KATHARINE. The morning dews hung heavy still, When, following close a little rill, I climbed a steep and wooded hill "Whose groves, so cool and green, Sloped downward to the river's side, — I heard the drowsy rippling tide. And all the peaceful waters glide Below me, Katharine. I threw me on a mossy seat. The wild flowers sprung about my feet. And all sweet sounds mine ears did greet. Amidst this summer scene; My fingers clasped a book of rhymes. Made in the quaint and olden times. When Earth was red with many crimes, My gentle Katharine! 126 KATIIAKINE. And though with studious thoughts intent, My wandering steps were thither bent, Yet dearer ones to me were lent Than I had found between Those blackened lids, so damp and cold. All covered with a bookish mould, That thou and I had loved of old To witness, Kathakine. I laid the cherished volume by, And as I upward turned mine eye. Caught rapturous glimpses of the sky In all its glorious sheen ; And resting white and calmly there Upon the thin and azure air, And only than thy robes more fair. The clouds hung, Kathaeine. Low down amid the leafy gloom The spider hung his cunning loom, And insects blindly sought their doom Beneath his glances keen ; "While, close beside the wandering brook, From out a gi'een and secret nook, I saw the blithesome squirrel look. My merry Kathakine ! KATIIAKINE. 127 And through the hazy depths around There floated many a sylvan sound, While shadows crept along the gi'ound AVith steps unheard, unseen : — A spirit of the beautiful Breathed on the dark, the cold, the dull. And all my senses seemed to lull To rapture, Ivathakine ! Then all the shapeless breezes came. And each seemed whispering thy name, My lips kept murmuring, too, the same ; While birds the smallest seen Melodiously caught up the chant, And from each gi-een and favorite haunt, Where sunbeams brightly fell aslant, They called thee, Kathakine! And then (I surely dreaming was), But yet, methought I saw thee pass. Thy light step pressing down the grass. Thy graceful form and mien, All flitting through the greenwood shade, Or gliding down the shadowy glade. Until thou didst in distance fade. My fairy Kathaiiine! 128 KATHAKINE. I knew that thou wert far away — I knew that many a summer day, With weary hours, before us lay. Ere I my brow should lean Upon thy young and kindly breast. Entreating thee to soothe to rest, With all the songs I love the best, My heart, sweet EL^thakine! Yet still this vision haunted me ; Sometimes beneath a beechen-tree I saw thee walking pensively ; Though long boughs swept between And lovingly did interlace, Enough I saw of form and face — Enough of queenly woman's grace To know thee, Kathakine. A fearful thought o'ercame my heart. And pierced me with an icy dart: What if this shade were but a part Of that which thou hadst been ? Oh ! what if thou hadst fled us here ? I started up, in bitter fear, And suddenly a bright, warm tear Fell downward, Kathaeike. KATnAKINE. 129 A thought of all mj heart would feel, In knowing one so fair and leal, Should never more beside me kneel, Or on my bosom lean, Rushed o'er my soul so fearfully. That I no beauty more could see In all that had delighted me, My darling Kathakine ! How could I bear to look on high, "When all the stars were in the sky ? For that bright one would meet mine eye Which was the bond between Our spirits, in those parted hours, "When gazing on the dewy flowers, "Within the early primrose bowers, I thought of Kathakine. With trembling steps, I fled the place. Where I had dreamed of thy sweet face — Of all thy witchery and grace. And sought my soul to screen From thoughts which, like a midnight knell. Did all my fairy dreams dispel, By hastening this tale to tell To thee, dear ELa-thabine ! LOVED ONLY. Loved only, loved only! how can 1 forget The evening, the moment, the spot where we met; Young Autumn was tinging the forest with red, — The blossoms that budded in summer were dead ; But others were there, in more gorgeous attire With bosoms all flushed by the sun's sinking fire; Thy glance was upon me, thy voice in my ear, — I blushed, love, and trembled, but was it with fear ? Loved only, loved only! I ever have thought That evening, that moment, with witchery fraught ; I strove to escape, but a spell was around That 'reft me of motion, of strength, and of sound; — 1 dared to look up, but my vision was dim — I saw but the stars in the bltfe ether swim, — Then something was whispered, and something replied, And somethinjc was said of a bridegroom and bride ! LOVED ONLY. 131 Loved only, loved only! our hopes and our fears, Our joys and our sorrows, our smiles and our tears. Have mingled together and blended in one, Like the close-wedded beams of a vertical sun : My love and my joys, and my songs are all thine — Thy love and thy griefs, and thy friendships are mine. While Memory sits in her fondness apart, To watch o'er these treasures that sleep in the heart ! Loved only ! loved only ! when fainting in death. Let me clasp at thy hand, let me drink in thy breath : — Thy heart may be heavy, thy spirit may grieve, For sharp is the sword that thy bosom shall cleave. But then, even then, shall my spirit rejoice To float on the sound of thy love-tolling voice ; — I know that the pang will be sweetened by this, And dying shall prove but the foretaste of bliss ! LOVE'S RECOLLECTION. The Spring has come ! with all its wealth of roses, Its young leaves glistening in the early clew ; The bride-like Jnne fresh charms each hour discloses, And skies, each moment, grow a darker blue! The birds are here, with voices rich and mellow, And in the cedars build their nursing nest ; Each loving thing hath sought its gentle fellow, And each, according to its hope, is blest. "When Spring's first sunlight, through the forest streaming, Clothed God's cathedral with its holy smile. Like pale-faced nuns in their gi*een cloisters dreaming, The snowy mandrakes leaned across each isle. Near by the stream, that steals along the meadow, Long grasses quivered to the wooing wind ; And, in the hollows, hidden half, by shadow. The fair young children timid flowerets find. love's eecollection. 133 Near by that stream, I wandered once, enraptured With one whose loveliness scarce seemed of Earth ; My heart and spirit both were fairly captm-ed By woman's graces, and by woman's worth. I loved her fondly ! — even unto madness ; Her gem-like eyes lit up my inmost soul ! Her smile was beauty's gentle smile of gladness, Which fanned my passion to a living coal. Again the hours, which swept, like rose leaves, o'er me, Flit by on wings invisible to sight; And once again her image floats before me. Clothed in its vesture of angelic light. , I clasp her hand, and fold her to my bosom — My lips are pressed upon her shining brow; No more of Earth, she blooms, a Heavenly blossom. And o'er my broken heart is bending fondly now. Above her grave, the wild rose warmly blushes. And by her side, our infant softly sleeps ; There still, when midnight all to slumber hushes, One lonely spirit wakes, and wildly weeps. The Summer days will pass, and Winter hoary Shall scatter snow-wreaths o'er that sacred spot; But her young soul, from glory unto glory, Shall soar with angels, all her woes forgot! HELEN. Twin gates before a palace rise — Twin crystal gates of heavenly hue: Within, a lurking angel lies, While beams of light come stealing through Those crystal gates of living blue ! This Palace rare, is Helen's soul ; Whose roof with pendant jewels hung, When touched, a gentle music toll — Thought -music, echoed by her tongue, Which from my lips this song hath wrung. Twin portals of the stately soul. Behold her eyes ! so deeply bright, Beneath whose drooping curtains stole The lurking angel of Delight, Entrancing now my earnest sight. HELEN. 135 Within the dazzling Palace-gates, Young, starry thoughts all quickening lie; But they shall find no fitting mates Beneath the pure, down -looking sky: Ofi*spring, like these, unwedded die! Young Helen's heart is pure and sweet As early spring's first limpid dew, That idle, wandering sunbeams greet Within the violefs cup of blue, — And soul and heart are fond as true. A VISION. When the eve's low-drooping curtain, Fringed with darkness, shut the day, And the moon, in waning beauty, Fled along the Heavenly way ; Then, God sent His dearest angel, Bearer of His blissful rest, "With the gracious balm of slumber. To my weak, o'erwearied breast. Lo! the spell had scarcely bound me. When my heart leaped with affright, For mine eyes beheld a vision, In the still-watch of the night ! I could hear my pulses throbbing Plainly, as along the beach You may hear the child-waves sobbing, As they climb the gentle reach. A VISION. 137 And the pall of silence round me, Rustled with a fitful sound, As if streams were darkly flowing Through the chambers under gi'ound ! Terror, for a moment, chilled me — This, thought I, must be death's throe; But too soon, a fever filled me. With its fierce and fiery woe! Then the vision, pale and shrouded. Bent its cloudless eyes on mine, Frozen terror — burning horror. Fled beneath the glance benign: And my soul stood up before it — Great the calmness then within. As I prayed, still struggling Heavenward, " Father ! shield thy child from sin ! "If this shade be sent to tempt me In my sleep's unguarded hour. Take this life, which thou hast lent me. Ere I yield unto its power :" Then the phantom smiled upon me A most sad and tranquil smile ; And I knew no tempter sent it, My poor spirit to beguile. 138 A VISION. Nearer still, it drew, and nearer. But no fear throbbed in my breast, As it slowly, softly, murmured, "Give to me. Beloved, rest! List ! a power to me is granted. Which thy soul cannot but share ; Thou shalt see the form and feature Of this anguish that 1 bear." Then the darkness shrunk and quivered, And a flashing, joyous light Swept the electric chain of being. Chasing shadows from the night: — And my sight grew sti'ohger, clearer, Piercing hidden things, divine ; While the vision, never moving. Bent its cloudless eyes on mine. What a world of deathless beauty ! (Signed and sealed by Him alone). On the brow and eyelids rested — Round the lustrous presence shone! There, I read, as in a volume. Pages of unwritten lore ; Histories of a life so solemn. That my tears flowed gently o'er. A VISION. 139 There I saw a poet -spirit, Made by suffering, pure and strong, Thirsting for the living waters Of the holier land of song ! Waters, by whose shores immortal, Angels fold their starry wings, List'ning at the Heavenly portal, When their human brother sings. There, that secret, silent sorrow. Like the worm which never dies. On his heart-blooms, ceaseless feasted. Yielding fragrance in its sighs : And this fragrance, flowing — flomng Through the Poet's lofty rhyme. Shall preserve his soul in freshness, Through all ills of death and time. Ask me not to name his anguish : Bring me rather, lethean wine, That my soul, may drink, forgetful. Of this fearful knowledge mine : — That I ne'er may see this phantom Pointing to its bleeding breast, As the pale lips ever murmur "Give to me. Beloved, rest!" TO FEEDEEIKA BREMER. I HAVE listened, gentle stranger, to thy voice's friendly tones, And my heart no kindlier interest, no happier influence owns ; All that's truest, best in woman — all that's loveliest in mind, Are in thy lofty nature, in thy spirit rare, combined; While they that list may read it in the soul-light of thy face — • A bosom rich with sympathies for all thy wandering race. From the snow-capp'd hills of Sweden, from the Baltic's surging shore. Thou hast come to charm the thousands thou hast charmed so oft before ; TO FEEDERIKA BEEilEK. 141 From the dazzling icj regions of the wondrous midnight sun, Thou art here to see what Freedom for this goodly land hath done: Yet before thee, o'er the ocean, swept the soft breath of thy fame, And a household word among us is the gentle stran- ger's name. By those glad and joyous beings thou hast conjured from the deejis. Where the wand of star-eyed Fancy o'er her shadowy kingdom sweeps: By the tender, solemn feelings thou hast wakened in the soul, — By the tides of loving memories that o'er our bosoms roll. By the holy lights of genius, that so many hearts have bless'd — We welcome thee — Enchantress! — to the wild shores of the west ! O'er the bright and laughing waters, where the Indian's light canoe Speeds like the winged petrel, when it skims the bound- less blue; On the broad and blooming prairie, where the wild steed curbless flies, And plains of waving verdure roll like seas beneath the skies, liJ TO FKEDEKIKA BKEMEE. There thine eyes have looked and lingered, and thy feet the sod have press'd, Where many a thrilling sacrifice has stained bright Na- ture's breast. From the orange groves and gardens of sweet jessamine and rose, From the wooing climes of sunshine where the queen magnolia blows. From each bay and isle and bayou — from each city on the shore, I seem to hear the voices that invite thy footsteps o'er: O, may all the angel blessings that from thousand hearts o'erfiow. Go with thee, gentle stranger, wheresoever thou shalt go! THE PHILOSOPHER TOAD. Down deep in a hoHow, so damp and so cold, Where oaks are by ivy o'ergrown, The gray moss and Hchen creep over the mould, Lying loose on a ponderous stone. Now, within this huge stone, like a king on his throne, A toad has been sitting more years than is known: And strange as it seems, yet he constantly deems The world standing still while he 's dreaming his dreams. Does this wonderful toad, in his cheerful abode In the innermost heart of that flinty old stone. By the gray-haired moss and the lichen o'ergrown. Down deep in the hollow, from morning till night. Dun shadows glide over the ground. Where a water-course once, as it sparkled with light, Turned a ruined old mill-wheel around : 144 THE PHILOSOPHER TOAD. Long years have passed by since its bed became dry, And the trees grow so close, scarce a glimpse of the sky Is seen in the hollow, so dark and so damp, Where the glow-worm, at noonday is trimming his lamp ; And hardly a sound, from the thicket around, Where the rabbit and squirrel leap over the ground. Is heard by the toad, in his spacious abode, In the innermost heart of that ponderous stone. By the gray-haired moss and the lichen o'ergi'own. Down deep in that hollow the bees never come — The shade is too black for a flower ; And jewel-winged birds, with their musical hum, Never flash in the night of that bower : — But the cold-blooded snake, in the edge of the brake, Lies amid the rank grass half asleep, half awake; And the ashen-white snail, with the slime in its trail Moves wearily on like a life's tedious tale. Yet disturbs not the toad in his spacious abode, In the innermost heart of that flinty old stone, By the gray-haired moss and the lichen o'ergi'own. Down deep in a hollow some wiseacres sit. Like the toad in his cell in the stone; ' Around them, in daylight, the blind owlets flit, And their creeds are by ivy o'crgrown : — THE PHILOSOPHEK TOAD. 145 Their streams may go dry, and the wheels cease to ply, And their glimpses be few of the sun and the sky. Still they hug to their breast every time-honored guest, And slumber and doze in inglorious rest ; For no progress they find in the wide sphere of mind. And the world 's standing still with all of their kind : Contented to dwell deep down in the well, Or move, like the snail, in the crust of his shell- Or live, like the toad, in his narrow abode, "With their souls closely wedged in a thick wall of stone, By the gray weeds of prejudice rankly o'ergro^vn. MONODY. UIOHARX) V. L HOUMEDXlEtT. Bleak Winter trod the frozen land, And Earth grew dark beneath his frown; 'Twas then, as ebbed life's latest sand, He of the open heart and hand. To silence and to dust went down ! To silence and to dust, went down: Though there no marble, false and cold, Bears witness to a high renown, His name shall live wherever known The deeds that consecrate his mould. The deeds that consecrate his mould ! — The widow's eye is sunk and dim ; She weeps to know his heart is cold, Though still her children softly fold Their little palms in prayer for him. MONODY. 147 Their little palms in prayer for him — For him who brightened their young eyes, When Want, with hungry phantoms grim, Fed on their light, and made them dim As fallen stars from Paradise. As fallen stars from Paradise ! And yet like stars they beamed again ; Like stars new set in azure skies, While he, their angel in disguise, Was blest among the sons of men. Was blessed among the sons of men, For joy was in the widow's breast ; And orphan hearts were happy then. And merry were their glances — when, He sank to his eternal rest! He sank to his eternal rest! Whatever faults were his, forgive ; — His charities were never dressed In flaunting garb, but mutely blessed Where boastful hands forgot to give! THE MINSTREL'S LAST SONG. The spell is on me! one more song, my lute, Or this wrung heart will of its fullness break ! In vain, in vain, the lips cannot be mute, When from their lair the fiery passions wake : " The still small voice " shall quell my soul no more. Begone, remorseless fiend ! and leave me now, — Oh, maddening bliss ! she comes ! the loved of yore, And lays her white hand on my throbbing brow ! 1 sing thy tuneful lips, thou queen of song ! I sing thy dazzling eyes, beloved and lost! Nay, mock me not, with words of right and wrong. When on this tempest -wave my soul is tossed. Look in mine eyes with thy most glorious orbs — "Smile to my smile," — return this long embrace — All sense — all sight, the present hour absorbs, Save the dear one of gazing on thy face. THE minstrel's LAST 30NQ. 149 Speak to me ! worshiped of my boyhood's years, — Speak to me ! idol of my manhood's dreams, — Away with doubt — away with dastard fears, When on my sight, thy starry presence gleams! Tell me not how they tore thee from my arms, — Too well I know, they did this murderous deed ; — Lean on my breast, and hush these wild alarms. Thy tears but make my bosom freshly bleed. Drink of forgetfulness ! sweet phantom, drink ! Let us be happy, though for one short hour ; If of a precipice, this be the brink, "We '11 make it bright as some fair lady's bower ! But no, thou couldst not fall ; thou 'rt girt aromid With guardian angels, each enfolding wing About thy form of purity is wound ; — Not sin itself could harm so fair a thing. Tell me, if ev