^^ v^^ '/■ %^^ ^, J. K % °o ): N° .^-^^ r :^: .•^^■ %, -^ •^.^ v^^ .^■ '-p ,0 c V^ %' .<^ / ^ ,0- '^^ . --^b. ^,-^ # i \ . V * jr. <^' /V ,^°°- ".^^° ^^^ "-.^ -^^0i°z ^.%^ "■^^^^^'^ :# ^,#- 1 A "■ d^ c .^^ S "^ '"' f ^ .^■^^ Or M '^%: .^v f^r %^. <>^^ 'p.^ ^ ■^1^ %- ^ o\ K-^ O [ ■^o 0^ .^^ -n^^ Later Lyrics. Blf Julia Ward Howe. BOSTON: J. E. TILT ON & COMPANY. 1866. ^ No,], v' b'' ' or t> ^ Oor4 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by J. E. TILTON & COMPANY, In the Clerk's OfRce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. Sttreofyped l)y C. J. Peteks & Son, No. l.*?, Wnshington Stroet. Press of Geo. C. Raxd & Avery, No. 3, Cornhill. CONTENTS Poems of the War. PAGE OiTK Country 9 The First Martyr 12 April 19 15 Our Orders 18 Kequital 20 The Question 22 The Flag 24 Harvard Student's Song 29 One and Many 31 Left Behind 32 Hymn for a Spring 'Festival, May 27, 1862 ... 33 The Jeweller's Shop in War-Time 36 The Battle-Eucharist 39 BATTLE- Hymn of the Kepublic 41 Lyrics of the Street. TpIE TELEGRA3IS 45 The Wedding 49 The Funeral 52 The Charitable Visitor 55 The Fine Lady 69 The Darkened House 62 The Old Man's Walk 64 at a Corner 66 IV CONTENTS. The Black Coach 07 Play C9 The Lost JE^VEL 71 Outside the Party 73 The Soul-Hunter 76 Street Yarn .79 Parables. I 85 II 87 III 89 IV. 93 Heb Verses. — A Lyrical Romance. The Legacy 99 Blushes lOl Wishes 103 Fears 105 Resolves 107 Studies 109 Latin 110 A Dream 113 Waking 116 The Summons 117 Waiting 119 The End 122 Poems of Study and Experience. To THE Critic 127 Philosophy 129 KOSMOS 131 First Causes 133 The Christ 135 The Church 137 The Crucui'ix 140 CONTENTS. • V Kenton's Legacy 142 To One who lies in Florence 146 THE Price of the Divina Commedia 149 A New Sculptor 152 A Victim of Tiberius 156 Caius C^sar 100 Claudius 166 The Vision of Paul 169 The Good Gualderalda 172 1830 AND 1853 175 Perugia 181 Of W03IAN 186 Amanda's Inventory 190 Lyke-Wake .192 Bargains 193 Rouge Gagne 195 The Tea-Party 197 Maid and Mistress 199 The Moderate Man 203 Warning . 205 Contrasts 206 A Vision of Palm Sunday 208 Jealousy 214 Without and Within 216 The Voice of the Cataract 219 The Evening Eide 221 NiGIIT-MUSINGS 223 Summer Night 226 Eros has Warning 228 Eros Departs 231 Simple Tales. — 1 235 II 240 The Rose in the Journal 242 A Dream of Distance 244 Fame and Friendship 246 VI CONTENTS. A Woman's Prater 248 The Last Bird 250 Farewell to Havana 253 A ^ViLD Night 255 Baby's Shoes 258 Mother's Nonsense 261 The Babe's Lesson 203 "Servant to a Wooden Cradle" 266 The Unwelcome Message 269 My Crucifix 272 A Winter Thought . . 273 Spring-Blossoms 274 Eemembrance 276 Little One 278 Chopin 281 Hamlet at the Boston 283 In my Valley 288 Endeavor 291 Meditation. — 1 293 II 296 The House of Rest 299 A Visit to C H 303 A Leaf from the Bryant Chaplet 306 Henry Wilson's Silver Wedding 311 The New Exodus 313 Parricide 317 Pardon 322 Welcome 324 POEMS OF THE WAE. POEMS OF THE WAR. OUR COUNTRY. On primal rocks she wrote her name, Her towers were reared on holy graves, The golden seed that bore her came Swift-winged with prayer o'er ocean waves. The Forest bowed his solemn crest, And open flung liis sylvan doors ; Meek Rivers led the appointed Guest To clasp the wide-embracing shores ; 10 POEMS OF THE WAR. Till, fold by fold, tlie broidered Land To swell her virgin vestments grew. While Sages, strong in heart and hand, Her virtue's fiery girdle drew. O Exile of the wrath of Kings ! O Pilgrim Ark of Liberty ! The refuge of diviuest things. Their record must abide in thee. First in the glories of thy front Let the crown jewel Truth be found ; Thy right hand fling with generous wont Love's happy chain to furthest bound. Let Justice with the faultless scales Hold fast the worship of thy sons. Thy commerce spread her shining sails Where no dark tide of rapine runs. So link thy ways to those of God, So follow firm the heavenly laws. That stars may greet thee, warrior-browed, And storm-sped angels hail thy cause. OUR COUNTRY. 11 O Land, the measure of our prayers, Hope of the world, in grief and wrong ! Be thine the blessing of the years, The gift of faith, the crown of song. 12 POEMS OF THE WAR. THE FIRST MARTYR. My five-years' darling, on my knee, Chattered and toyed and laughed with me " Now tell me, mother mine," quoth she, "Where you went i' the afternoon." " Alas ! my pretty little life, I went to see a sorrowing wife, Who will be widowed soon." "Now, mother, what is that?" she said, With wondering eyes and restless head : " Will, then, her husband soon be dead? Tell me, why must he die ? Is he like flowers the frost doth sear, Or like the birds, that, every year, Melt back into the sky ? " " No, love ; the flowers may bloom their time. The birdlings sing their merry chime, Till bids them seek another clime THE FIRST MARTYR. 13 The Winter sharp and cold ; But he who waits with fettered limb, Nor God nor Nature sends for him, — He is not weak nor old. " He lies upon a prison bed With sabre gashes on his head ; And one short month will see him led Where Vengeance wields the sword. Then shall his form be lifted high, And strangled in the public eye With horrible accord." "But, mother, say, what has he done? Has he not robbed or mnrdered one ? " "My darling, he has injured none. To free the wretched slaves He led a band of chosen men. Brave, but too few ; made captives then. And doomed to felon graves." " O mother ! let us go this day To that sad prison, far away ; The cruel governor we '11 pray 14 POEMS OF THE WAR. To unloose tlie door so stout. Some comfort we can bring him, sure : And is lie locked up so secure, We could not get him out ? " "No, darling : he is closely kept." Then nearer to my heart she crept, And, hiding there her beauty, wept For human misery. Child ! it is fit that thou shouldst weep : The very babe unborn would leap To rescue such as he. O babe unborn ! O future race ! Heir of our glory and disgrace, We cannot see thy veiled face ; But shouldst thou keep our crime, No new Apocalypse need say In what wild woe shall pass away The falsehood of the time. APRIL 19. 15 APRIL 19. A SPASM o'er my heart Sweeps like a burning flood ; A sentence rings upon mine ears, Avenge the guiltless blood ! Sit not in health and ease, Nor reckon loss nor gain, When men who bear our country's flag Are set upon and slain, Not by mistaken hearts With long oppression wrung. Filled with great thoughts that ripc.n late, And madden, when they're yourg. 16 POEMS OF THE WAR. The murderer's wicked lust Their righteous steps withstood ; The zeal that thieves and pirates know Brought down the guiUless blood. From every vein of mine Its fiery burtlien take ; From every drop the burning coin Of righteous vengeance make. LoAv let the city lie That thus her guests receives ; A smoking ruin to the eye Be marble walls and eaves ! Thou God of love and wrath, That watchest on the wing, Remorseless at those caitiff hearts Thy bolts of judgment fling ! APRIL 19. 17 Blot from the sight of heaven The city, where she stood, And with thy might, avenging Right, Wipe out the guiltless blood ! 18 POEMS OF THE WAR. OUR ORDERS. Weave no more silks, ye Lyons looms, To deck our girls for gay delights ! The crimson flower of battle blooms, And solemn marches fill the night. Weave but the flag whose bars to-day Drooped heavy o'er our early dead. And homely garments, coarse and gray. For orphans that must earn their bread ! Keep back your tunes, ye viols sweet. That poured delight from other lands ! Rouse there the dancer's restless feet : The trumpet leads our warrior bands. OUR ORDERS. 19 And ye that wage the war of words With mystic fame and subtle power, Go, chatter to the idle birds, Or teach the lesson of the hour ! Ye Sibyl Arts, in one stern knot Be all your offices combined ! Stand close, while Courage draws the lot, The destiny of human kind. And if -that destiny could fail. The sun should darken in the sky, The eternal bloom of Nature pale. And God, and Truth, and Freedom die ! 20 POEMS OF THE WAR. REQUITAL. He died beneath the uplifted thong Who spared for us a thousand lives : He came to sing glad Israel's song ; "We gave him Babylonian gyves. With swelling heart and simple thought He warned us of the unheeded snare Our chiefs discovered : vilely caught, They flung him back to perish there. Did Pilate seal the Saviour's fate As still the shuddering Nations say, When, in that hour of high debate, With ill- washed hands he turned away? REQUITAL. 21 Sweet Christ, with flagellations brought To thine immortal martyrdom, Cancel the bitter treasons wrought By men who bid thy kingdom come. Their sinful blood we may not urge While Mercy stays, thy righteous hand ; But take all ours, if that should purge The wicked patience of the land, u 22 POEMS OF THE WAR. THE QUESTION. Tell me, Master, am I free? From the prison land I come, From a mocked humanity, From the fable of a home ; From the shambles, where my wife With my baby at her breast, Faded from my narrow life, Rudely bartered, ill-possest. Will you keep me, for my faith, From the hound that scents my track, From the riotous, drunken breath, From the murder at my back ? THE QUESTION. 23 Masters, ye are figliting long ; Well your trumpet-blast we know ; Are ye come to right a wrong? Do we call you friend or foe ? God must come, for whom we pray, Knowing his deliverance true ; Shall our men be left to say He must work it free of you ? Fetters of a burning chain Held the spirit of our braves ; Waiting for the nobler strain, Silence told him we were slaves. 24 POEMS OF THE WAR. THE FLAG. There's a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty ; And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue As the hope of a further heaven, that lights all our dim lives through. But now should my guests be merry, the house is in holiday guise. Looking out through its burnished windows like a score of welcoming eyes. Come hither, my brothers, who wander in saintliness and in sin ; Come hither, ye pilgi'ims of Nature, my heart doth invite you in. THE FLAG. 25 My wine is not of the choicest, yet bears it an honest brand ; And the bread that I bid you lighten, I break with no sparing hand : But pause, ere ye pass to taste it, one act must accomplished be, — Salute the flag in its virtue, before ye sit down with me. The flag of our stately battles, not struggles of wrath and greed. Its stripes were a holy lesson, its spangles a deathless creed : 'Twas red with the blood of freemen, and white with the fear of the foe ; And the stars that fight in their courses 'gainst tyrants its symbols know. Come hither, thou son of my mother ; we were reared in the self-same arms ; Thou hast many a pleasant gesture, thy mind hath its gifts and charms ; 26 POEMS OF TEE WAR. But my heart is as stern to question as mine eyes are of sorrows full : Salute the flag in its virtue, or pass on where others rule ! Thou lord of a thousand acres, with heaps of un- counted gold, I The steeds of thy stall are haughty, thy lackeys cunning and bold : I envy no jot of thy splendor, I rail at thy follies none, — Salute the flag in its virtue, or leave my poor house alone ! Fair lady with silken flouncings, high waving thy stainless plume, We welcome thee to our banquet, a flower of costliest bloom. Let an hundred maids live vtddowed to furnish thy bridal bed ; But pause where the flag doth question, and bend thy triumphant head. THE FLAG. 27 Take do\^1l now your flaunting banner ; for a scout comes breathless and pale, With the terror of death upon him ; of failure is all his tale : " They have fled while the flag waved o'er them, they've turned to the foe their back ; They are scattered, pursued, and slaughtered ; the fields are all rout and wrack." Pass hence then, the friends I gathered, a goodly company. All ye that have manhood in you, go, perish for Liberty ! But I and the babes God gave me will wait with uplifted hearts. With the firm smile ready to kindle, and the will to perform our parts. When the last true heart lies bloodless, when the fierce and the false have won, I'll press in turn to my bosom each daughter and either son : 28 POEMS OF THE WAR. Bid them loose the flag from its bearings, and we'll laj us down to rest With the glory of home about us, and its freedom locked in our breast. HARVARD STUDENTS SONG. 29 HAEVARD STUDENT'S SONG. Remember ye the fateful gun that sounded To Sumter's walls from Charleston's treacherous shore ? Remember ye how hearts indignant bounded When our first dead came back from Baltimore ? The banner fell that every breeze had flattered, The hum of thrift was hushed with sudden woe ; We raised anew the emblems shamed and shattered, And turned a front resolved to meet the foe. Remember ye how, out of boyhood leaping. Our gallant mates stood ready for the fray, As new-fledged eaglets rise, with sudden sweeping. And meet unscared the dazzling front of day ? Our classic toil became inglorious leisure, We praised the calm Horatian ode no more. But answered back with song the martial measure. That held its throb above the cannon's roar. 30 POEMS OF THE WAR. Remember ye the pageants dim and solemn, Where Love and Grief have borne the funeral pall ? The joyless marching of the mustered column, "With arms reversed, to Him who conquers all? Oh ! give them back, thou bloody breast of Treason, They were our own, the darlings of our hearts : They come benumbed and frosted out of season. With whom the summer of our youth departs. Look back no more ! our time has come, my brothers ! Li Fate's high roll our names are written too : We fill the mournful gaps left bare by others, The ranks where Fear has never broken through. Look, ancient Walls, upon our stern election ! Keep, Echoes dear, remembrance of our breath ! And gentle eyes, and hearts of pure affection, Light us resolved to victory or death ! ONE AND MANY. 31 ONE AND MANY. He is dead with whom we spake ; Ere the latest war cloud brake, Vanished, with the smile he wore When we parted evermore. As a star that leaves its place Fills the heavens with passing grace, Did he set our hearts aglow, Loving loath to see him go. Where he was, a shadow rests. Veiling void in aching breasts : He but heeds the immortal rule. Lifted to the Beautiful ! 32 POEMS OF THE WAR. LEFT BEHIND. The foe is retreating, the field is clear ; My thoughts fly like lightning, my steps stay here ; I'm bleeding to faintness, no help is near : What, ho ! comrades ; what, ho ! The battle was deadly, the shots fell thick ; We leaped from our trenches, and charged them quick ; I knew not my wound till my heart grew sick ; So there, comrades ; so there. We charged the left column, that broke and fled ; Poured powder for powder, and lead for lead : So they must surrender, what matter who's dead? Who cares, comrades? who cares? My soul rises up on the wings of the slain, A triumph thrills through me that quiets the pain : If it were yet to do, I would do it again ! Farewell, comrades, farewell ! HYMN FOR A SPRING FESTIVAL. 33 HYMN FOR A SPRING FESTIVAL, MAY 27, 1862. In this glad time of Spring Nature doth garlands bring, Crowning her joys. All that was seared with frost, Buried, and mourned for lost. With a new Pentecost, Flame-touched, doth rise. Come, then, ye sons of men ! Stand, and take heart again, Blessing the year. Earth fills her breast with food ; Odors enchant the wood ; Each leafy solitude Music doth cheer. 34 POEMS OF THE WAR, Where the war-trumpets blow, Our legions meet the foe With deathful din ; But hosts unseen are there, Fight and fatigue to share : So we but strive with prayer, Steadfast, we win. O hearts that wonder Ions: ! O Truth that sufFerest wrong ! Meet in your might ; Lift the pure banner high ; Raise one impassioned cry. Nobler than victory, — " God speed the right ! " Through the dark years of crime, For this appointed time Justice did wait. Purpose and Hope, that lay Passive and dumb as clay. Stand, in God's chosen day. Stronger than Fate. HYMN FOR A SPRING FESTIVAL. 35 We then, with faith increased, Hold our fraternal feast, Death making sign, Solemn as when he stood Where our Supremest Good Bade memory count his blood Dearer than wine. All glories, Lord ! are thine ; All joys are throbs divine Pulsed from thy breast. As thine infinity, Peace-crowned, returns to thee, Let our toil gathered be Into thy rest. 36 POEMS OF THE WAR. THE JEWELLER'S SHOP IN WAR-TIME. Past these counters wilt thou lead me, Notes of luxury to read me In the pearly shows and golden That to outward boast embolden ? Watchful sit the shapes of sorrow. Say : the Black Death comes to-morrow. Bride, the altar-gifts are waiting The permission of thy mating ; Heart and purse make brief unclasping From the daily miser-grasping. Fill the cup ! away with sorrow ! Will the Black Death come to-morrow ? Lo ! he lies in bloody heather, 'Neath the burning summer weather : Not a drop his dry lip wetteth ; Dryer yet his sad eye setteth. THE JEWELLER'S SHOP IN WAR-TIME. 37 Rend thy bridal robes for sorrow : Doth the Black Death wait the morrow ? See ! the silver vessels goodly Hands of hirelings stir not rudely ; Gems that deck the board's white wearing, In a house of noble bearing ; Legendary urns of sorrow : Death attends the feast to-morrow 1 See ! the rings of wild desire, — Dreamy opal ; diamond fire ; Emerald, green as summer grasses Lit of sun that never passes ; Jets, the dim delights of sorrow. That the Black Death buys, the morrow. Chalice see and salver ghostly That affright the gazer mostly ; Stirrup-cup that awes and blesses, Cordial drop of last distresses ; Pearl of hope dissolved in sorrow, Dear where Death is due the morrow. 38 POEMS OF THE WAR. Take me rather when the hours Write their journal fair in flowers ; Wliere our sweet joys die and darken With the firmament to hearken. Soft in silence sinks our sorrow ; Resurrection comes to-morrow. Life ye tear to shred and flitter, Joying in the costly glitter To rehearse each art-abortion That consumes a widow's portion. Lavish feast makes secret sorrow ; Pinch at heart brings Death to-morrow ! Take me where sweet doctrine, hoarded, Stays the ravage, ill-afforded ; Wisdom's store, divinely pleasured, Hero heart-beat, poet-measured. Song that lightens out of sorrow Shields from every Death to-morrow. THE BATTLE-EUCHARIST. 39 THE BATTLE -EUCHARIST. Above the seas of gold and glass The Christ, transfigured, stands to-day ; Below, in troubled currents, pass The tidal fates of man away. Through that environed blessedness Our sorrow cannot wholly rise. Nor his swift sympathy redress The anguish that in Nature lies. Yet mindful from his banquet sends The guest of God a cup of wine, And shares a morsel with his friends, Who, wondering, wait without the shrine. 40 POEMS OF THE WAR. Remain with us, O Lord ! remain ; Our faint souls will not let thee go : Bear with us this surpassing pain, Abide our sacrament of woe, While ghostly hands from battle-fields Reproach with succor long delayed. And all the wealth our treasure yields Buys not the power to hasten aid. O Christ, that multipliest bread ! Thou Feeder of the multitude. On them thy heart's redemption shed. Feed our beloved with heavenly food ; And open wide the gates of thought, That, sitting at this feast divine. Our faith may see deliverance wrought By pangs that bear the mark of thine. BATTLE -HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 41 BATTLE -HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC, Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps ; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps. His day is marching on. 42 POEMS OF THE WAR. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel : " As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal ; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel. Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judg- ment-seat : Oh ! be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant, my feet ! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me : As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. lYEICS OF THE STEEET. 48 THE TELEGRAMS. 45 THE TELEGRAMS. Bring the hearse to the station, When one shall demand it, late ; For that dark consummation The traveller must not wait. Men say not by what connivance He slid from his weight of woe, Whether sickness or weak contrivance, But we know him glad to go. On and on and ever on ! What next? Nor let the priest be wanting With his hollow eyes of prayer, Wliile the sexton wrenches, panting, The stone from the dismal stair. 46 LYRICS OF THE STREET. But call not the friends who left him When fortune and pleasure fled : Mortality hath not bereft him, That they should confront him, dead. On and on and ever on ! What next? Bid my mother be ready : We are coming home to-night : Let my chamber be still and shady With the softened nuptial light. We have travelled so gayly, madly, No shadow hath crossed our way ; Yet we come back like children, gladly, Joy-spent with our holiday. On and on and ever on ! What next ? Stop the train at the landing, And search every carriage through ; Let no one escape your handing, None shiver, or shrink from view. THE TELEGRAMS. 47 Three blood-stained guests expect him ; Three murders oppress his soul ; Be strained every nerve to detect him Who feasted, and killed, and stole. On and on and ever on ! What next? Be rid of the notes they scattered ; The great house is down at last ; The image of gold is shattered, And never can be recast. The bankrupts show leaden features, And weary, distracted looks, While harpy-eyed, wolf-souled creatures Pry through their dishonored books. On and on and ever on ! What next? Let him hasten, lest worse befall him, To look on me, ere I die : I will whisper one curse to appall him, Ere the black flood carry me by. 48 LYRICS OF THE STREET. His bridal ? The friends forbid it ; I have shown them his proofs of guilt ; Let him hear, with my laugh, who did it ; Then hurry, Death, as thou wilt ! On and on and ever on ! What next? Thus the living and dying daily Flash forward their wants and words. While still on Thought's slender railway Sit scathless the little birds : They heed not the sentence dire By magical hands exprest. And only the sun's warm fire Stirs softly their happy breast. On and on and ever on ! God next ! THE WEDDING. 49 THE WEDDING. In her satin gown so fine Trips the bride within the shrine. Waits the street to see her pass, Like a vision in a glass. Roses crown her peerless head : Keep your lilies for the dead ! Something of the light without Enters with her, veiled about ; Sunbeams, hiding in her hair, Please themselves with silken wear ; Shadows point to what shall be In the dim futurity. 50 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Wreathe with flowers the weighty yoke Might of mortal never broke. From the altar of her vows To the grave's unsightly house Measured is the path, and made : All the work is planned and paid. As a girl, with ready smile, "Where shall rise some ponderous pile, On the chosen, festal day, Turns the initial sod away, So the bride with fingers frail Founds a temple or a jail, — Or a palace, it may be, Flooded full with luxury. Open yet to deadliest things. And the Midnight Angel's wings. Keep its chambers purged with prayer Faith can guard it, Love is rare. THE WEDDING. 51 Organ, sound thy wedding-tunes ! Priest, recite the sacred runes ! Hast no ghostly help nor art Can enrich a selfish heart, Blessing bind 'twixt greed and gold, Joy with bloom for bargain sold ? Hail, the wedded task of life ! Mending husband, moulding wife. Hope brings labor, labor peace ; Wisdom ripens, goods increase ; Triumph crowns the sainted head, And our lilies wait the dead. 52 LYBIGS OF THE STREET. THE FUNERAL. As I passed down the street, Sighing and sioging, Making its pavement sweet With flowery flinging, Came the unwelcome feet, Sad burthen brino^inff. Death ! I forgot thou shouldst Harvest this morning : Not for thy festival Was my adorning ; Yet to my heart I take, Duteous, thy warning. THE FUNERAL, 63 Out of the pleasant day Darkly they lay thee : Shall thine accustomed haunts No more display thee ; Shall thy high house of life Cease to obey thee. Done are thy deeds of good, And thy malefeasance ; Ended the years of dole, And the short pleasance : Thou art a power no more, Only a presence. Hot tears bedim the eyes That would behold thee ; Death-spasms wring the hearts Whose loves infold thee ; While monumental Grief Waits to inmould thee. 64 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Whither, ah ! whither gone, From our wild weeping? For what new threshing-floor Bound with strange reaping? Taken, we know no more, Into God's keeping. THE CHARITABLE VISITOR. 55 THE CHARITABLE VISITOR. She carries no flag of fashion, her clothes are but passing plain, Though she comes from a city palace all jubilant with her reign : She threads a bewildering alley, with ashes and dust thrown out, And fighting and cursing children, who mock as she moves about. Why walk you this way, my lady, in the snow and slippery ice? These are not the shrines of virtue, — here misery lives, and vice : Rum helps the heart of starvation to a courage bold and bad ; And women are loud and brawling, while men sit maudlin and mad. 56 LYRICS OF THE STREET, 1 I see in the corner yonder the boy with a broken arm, And the mother whose blind wrath did it, — strange guardian from childish harm ! That face will grow bright at your coming, but yom* steward might come as well. Or better the Sunday teacher that helped him to read and spell. Oh I I do not come of my willing, with froward and restless feet : I have pleasant tasks in my chamber, and friends well- beloved to greet. To follow the dear Lord Jesus, I walk in the storm and snow ; Where I find the trace of his footsteps, there lilies and roses grow. He said that to give was blessed, more blessed than to receive ; But what could he take, dear angels, of all that we had to give, TEE CHARITABLE VISITOR. 57 Save a little pause of attention, and a little thrill of delight, When the dead were waked from their slumbers, and the blind recalled to sight? Say, the King came forth with the morning, and opened his palace doors, Thence flinging his gifts like sunbeams that break upon. marble floors ; But the wind with wild pinions caught them, and carried them round about : Though I looked till mine eyes were dazzled, I never could make them out. But he bade me go far and find them, " go seek them with zeal and pain : The hand is most welcome to me that brings me mine own again ; And those who follow them furthest, with faithful searching and sight. Are brought with joy to my presence, and sit at my feet all night." 58 LYRICS OF THE STREET. So, hither and thither walking, I gather them broadly cast; Where yonder young face doth sicken, it may be the best and last. In no void or vague of duty I come to his aid to-day : I bring God's love to his bedside, and carry God's gift away. THE FINE LADY. 59 THE FINE LADY. Her heart is set on folly, An amber gathering straws : She courts each poor occurrence, Heeds not the heavenly laws. Pity her ! She has a little beauty, And she flaunts it in the day, While the selfish wrinkles, spreading, Steal all its charm away. Pity her I She has a little money, And she flings it everjrwhere : 'Tis a gewgaw on her bosom, A tinsel in her hair. Pity her 1 60 LYRICS OF THE STREET. She has a little feeling, She spreads a foolish net That snares her own weak footsteps, Not his for whom 'tis set. Pity her ! Ye harmless household drudges. Your draggled daily wear And horny palms of labor A softer heart may bear. Pity her ! Ye steadfast ones, whose burthens "Weigh valorous shoulders down. With hands that cannot idle, And brows that will not frown. Pity her ! Ye saints, whose thoughts are folded As graciously to rest As a dove's stainless pinions Upon her guileless breast. Pity her I THE FINE LADY. 61 But most, ye helpful angels That send distress and work, Hot task and sweating forehead, To heal man's idle irk, Pity her ! 62 LYRICS OF THE STREET. THE DARKENED HOUSE. One year ago this dreary night, This house, that in my way Checks the swift pulses of delight. Was cordial glad, and gay. The household angels tended there Their ivy-cinctured bower, And by the hardier plant grew fair A lovely lily-flower. The skies rained sunshine on its head, It throve in summer air : " How straight and sound ! " the father said ; The mother said, " How fair ! " THE DARKENED HOUSE. 63 One little year is gathering up Its glories to depart ; The skies have left one marble drop Within the lily's heart. For growth and bloom no more avails The Seasons' changing breath : Fixed in sad constancy, it feels The sculpture-touch of Death. But from its breast let golden rays, Immortal, break and rise. Linking the sorroAv-clouded days With dawning paradise. 64 LYRICS OF THE STREET. THE OLD MAN'S WALK. Into the sadness of the Avinter night I bear my heart : Shunning the crowded streets, the glaring light, I walk apart. With trembling feet and head astound I go, With cheeks chill-wet : I must return unto that house of woe ; I cannot yet. Unhappy words compel me from the hearth Of love bereft ; Should send me reckless o'er the rolling earth, With bosom cleft. THE OLD MAN'S WALK. 65 O Stranger ! ask not why I stray abroad Thus out of time. Mine eye has not the furtive glance of fraud, The leer of crime. Deep Night, within thy gloomy catafalque Bury my grief ; And, while thy candles light my funeral walk, Promise relief. Let lightsome spirits that outwatch thy reign, Dawn's sentinels. Shed golden balsam for the sons of pain In prison cells. " Ave," I hear the pitying angels say ; From depths they call ; " Through all Grief's multitude Heaven makes a way." Heaven rest us all ! 66 LYRICS OF THE STREET. AT A CORNER. Here should I meet you, here only, recalling The soul-drunken look you vouchsafed me one day, That, like a spark in some hidden mine falling. Shook my frail senses, and swept me away. What did that look portend ? dark was its meaning, Faded in tears the swift gleam of delight ; Ask the deep thoughts of eternity's screening, Ask the wide stars in the bosom of night. Like some winged Seraphim, never descending, That for a moment unveils to our view : Sudden its ravishment, bitter its ending ; Love flashed a promise that Life never knew. THE BLACK COACH. 67 THE BLACK COACH. In the black coach you must ride, - You, so dainty once a time. We who saw your bloom of pride, Stifle now the crop of crime, Lest its poisonous, fruitful birth Scatter monsters o'er the earth. She had holidays as gay As the highest you have known, Lady, flitting fast away, With your chariot for a throne. Wild-flowers for a moment please In the hands of pampered ease. 68 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Lifted, like a summer treasure In a golden goblet placed, To decline in mournful leisure, Scorned, untended, and disgraced ; With the meadow yet in sight Where the daisies glisten white. Come, a carriage blacker still, Narrowed to the form you bear ; Bring the last of good and ill ; Take the leavings of despair. Death's cold purity condense Vaporous sin to soul's intense. Ere the prison-gates unswing, Let the spirit portals ope ; While the Winter holds the Spring Shall the grave-mound cover hope ; Come the pang that ends all woe, God can better pardon so. PLAT. 69 PLAY. From yon den of double-dealing With its Devil's host, Come I, maddened out of healing. All is lost. So the false wine cannot blind me, Nor the braggart toast. But I know that Hell doth bind me ; All is lost. Where the lavish gain attracts us. And the easy cost, While the damning dicer backs us, All is lost. 70 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Blest the rustic in his furrows, Toil and sweat-embossed ; Blest are lionest souls in sorrows : All is lost. Wifely love, the closer clinging Wlien men need thee most. Shall I come, dishonor bringing? All is lost. Babe in silken cradle lying. To low music tossed, Will they wake thee for my dying? All is lost. Yonder, where the river grimly Whitens like a ghost. Must I plunge and perish dimly : All is lost. THE LOST JEWEL. 71 THE LOST JEWEL. Cast on the turbid current of the street, My pearl doth swim ; Oh for the diver's cunning hands and feet To come to him ! No : I'll not seek the madness of thine eyes, Since, day by day. Life brings its noiseless blessings from the skies For which we pray. While patient Duty, helped of heavenly Art, Her way pursues. And holy loves re-edify the heart The passions use. 72 LYRICS OF THE STREET. God's hand can bring unheard-of gifts to light From Fate's deep sea ; Has pearls enough to recompense the right, Only not thee. OUTSIDE THE PARTY. 73 OUTSIDE THE PARTY. Phick throng the snow-flakes, the evening is dreary, Grlad rings the music in yonder gay hall ; On her who listens here, friendless and weary, Heavier chill than the winter's doth fall. A.t yon clear window, light-opened before me, &lances the face I have worshipped so well : There's the fine gentleman, grand in his glory ; rhere, the fair smile by whose sweetness I fell. rhis is akin to him, shunned and forsaken, rhat at my bosom sobs low, without bread ; Had not such pleading my marble heart shaken, [ had been quiet, long since, with the dead. 74 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Oh ! could I enter there, ghastly and squalid, Stand in men's eyes with my spirit o'erborne, Show them where roses bloomed, crushed now and pallid. What he found innocent, leaving forlorn, — How the fair ladies would fail from their dances, Trembling, aghast at uly horrible tale ! How would he shrink from my words and my glances ! How would they shrink from him, swooning and pale ! This is the hair that was soft to enchain him ; Snakelike, it snarls on my beautiless brow : These are the hands that were fond to detain him With a sense-magic then, powerless now ! No : could I come, like a ghost, to affright him, How should that heal my wound, silence my pain ? Had I the wrath of God's lightning to smite him, That could not bring me my lost peace again. OUTSIDE THE PARTY. 75 N"e'er let him grieve while good fortunes betide him, N^e'er count again the poor game lost of old ; When he comes forth, with his young bride beside him, Elere shall they find us both, dead in the cold. 76 LYRICS OF THE STREET. THE SOUL-HUNTER. Who hunts so late 'neath evening skies, A smouldering love-brand in his eyes ? His locks outshame the black of night, Its stars are duller than his sight Who hunts so late, so dark. A drooping mantle shrouds his form. To shield him from the winter's storm ? Or is there something at his side, That, with himself, he strives to hide, Who hunts so late, so dark ? He hath such promise, silver sweet. Such silken hands, such fiery feet, THE SOUL-HUNTER. 77 That, where his look has charmed the prey, His swift-winged passion forces way. Who hunts so late, so dark. Sure no one underneath the moon Can whisper to so soft a tune : The hours would flit from dusk to dawn Lighter than dews upon the lawn With him, so late, so dark. But, should there break a day of need. Those hands will try no valorous deed : No help is in that sable crest, Nor manhood in that hollow breast That sighed so late, so dark. • O maiden ! of the salt waves make Thy sinless shroud, for God's dear sake ; Or to the flame commit thy bloom ; Or lock thee, living, in the tomb So desolate and dark, — 78 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Before thou list one stolen word Of him who lures thee like a bird. He wanders with the Devil's bait, For human souls he lies in wait, Who hunts so late, so dark. STREET YARN. 79 STREET YARN. Roses caged in windows, heighten Your faint blooms to-day ; Silks and sheeny satins, brighten ; He has passed this way ! Could ye keep his fleeting presence Gone beyond recall, But a little of his essence, I would have you all. Arabesque so quaint and shady, That mightst catch his eye To adorn a stately lady Ere her hour went by. 80 LYRICS OF THE STREET. Canst assure me that his glancing Rested on thy fold ? Did that set your purples dancing? Wake the sleepy gold ? Ye neglected apple-venders Mouldering in the street. Did he curse between your tenders, Spurning with his feet ? Then must I an alms deliver For his graceless pride ; Could I buy his sins forever, Fd not be denied. Paying patiently his ransom Never conscience-pricked ; Cheating Justice of her handsome Heartless derelict. STREET YARN. Did he view thee, ancient steeple, With thy weird clock-face, Frowning down on sinful people Passing out of grace ? Nay, respond not to my question With thy prate of time : Things to which my soul must hasten Lie beyond thy chime. With no circumstance to screen us, ' We must meet again : I shall bid God judge between us, Answering Amen. 81 PAKABLE8, L PARABLES. 85 PARABLES. I.* " I SENT a child of mine to-day ; I hope you used him well." " Now, Lord, no visitor of yours Has waited at my bell. The children of the Millionnaire Run up and down our street ; I glory in their well-combed hair. Their dress and trim complete. But yours would in a chariot come With thorough-breds so gay ; And little merry maids and men To cheer him on his way." 86 PARABLES. "Stood, then, no child before your door? The Lord, persistent, said. " Only a ragged beggar-boy, With rough and frowzy head. The dirt was crusted on his skin, His muddy feet were bare ; The cook gave victuals from within ; I cursed his coming there." What sorrow, silvered with a smile, Slides o'er the face divine? What tenderest whisper thrills rebuke ? " The beggar-boy was mine ! " PARABLES. 87 Once, where men of high pretensioD For the Lord did wait, Suffer did their pride declension ; Angry grew their state. One, impatient, snaps his fingers ; One torments his hair ; One, albeit no pride of singers, Hums a broken air. Sitting low apart, a modest Maiden waited too ; Little weary one, thou ploddest 111 thy week's work through ! Comes the Lord. From long abiding They uprise in haste ; With their greeting mingles chiding For the time they waste. PARABLES. " Lord, I am a merchant wealthy ; Commerce holds me dear ; Competition enters stealthy While I tarry here." " Lord, for me recondite dinners Chill on festive boards ; Waste the games, and haste the winners, While I wait thy words." To this folly of upbraiding Says the Master, " Yes : You have waited too, my maiden ; Seek you not redress ? " "Waiting is such holy pleasure For a joy most dear ; I had rapture out of measure, Knowinsr thou wert near." PARABLES. 89 in. Beside this goodly mansion's gate I'll pause, and rest a while : Its master will not have me wait ; He beckons with a smile. " Now, friend, what might your errand be? Will you walk in for charity? " Thus I returned him : '^ Could you know The treasures in my pack. And all the bravery and show I carry at my back. The merchant's pains you should requite, Not shame him with the beggar's mite." "If it content you, open out The goods you praise so well." " I've turned the rolling earth about For that which here I sell ; No trumpery for the servants' hall : I only heed the master's call. 90 PARABLES. Behold these painful broideries rare, The costliest Fashion knows ; Such as the chief Sultanas wear, Steeped with the attar rose." " Your shawl is faded, patched, and poor It pleases not ; show something more." " This crystal phial, art-embossed, A balsam doth contain For whose delight an empire's cost Were scarcely spent in vain." " It cannot match one clover-bloom : Bring other business, — pass perfume. " Behold this weighty carcanet. Whose links of sullen gold Would seem to bind the Favorite yet In Love's triumphant hold." " The iron rusts through these gilded chains, As smiles discover torture-pains." PARABLES. 91 " Last, then, this diamond, with a light Kindled 'neath tropic skies : A slave toiled twenty years of night, Bleeding, to win this prize." " One impulse of the blood you name Would put your Kohinoor to shame." " Shall your encounter make me poor, And desolate of bread? If all my wealth beside your door Buys not a pilgrim's bed. At the next inn I'll set me down. And travel to the market-town." " Friend ! " said the Master, " coming here, You passed an unseen bound ; And in the outer region drear No hostelry is found. I question all who pass this way. And grant them leave to go or stay. 92 PARABLES. But in my mansion, too, is wealth Of garments glad and white : My chains are helpful bonds of health ; My jewels, heart's delight ; My perfumes waste no joy divine : Enter ; for all I have is thine. PARABLES. 93 IV. LoED of life, why must thou seek me In this desert wild ? Why so tenderly bespeak me, Fallen and sin-defiled? Should thy feet, so fair and glorious, That in heaven's ways go, Tread the stony paths laborious That the wicked know ? In abysses darkly yawning, Where the lost are pent, Shouldst thou spread the purple awning Of thy sheltering tent ? See ! the hell-flames gather round thee, Raging for thy life : Tongues of thief and ribald wound thee Worse than spear or knife. 94 PARABLES. Oh ! of all my deeds abhorred Is not this the worst, Fronting thine anointed forehead With this woe accurst? Angels, bear him without rudeness To the breath of morn, Veiling with your crowns the voidness Where his brow is shorn. Use no whisper of the evil That his hand hath done, Lest a saint become a devil Torturing such an one. And that wound, whose deadly feeling Makes the bosom faint. Reconcile with swift annealing, Pur^je from mortal taint. PARABLES. 95 Call a feast of stately measure With a solemn joy, "With all courtesy and pleasure To him sitting by. Gather up his long-lost kindred, Angered and estranged ; For each good gift bring an hundred, Since his heart is changed. Bind the robe upon his shoulder. On his hand the ring ; Since, while Love is treasure-holder, Sorrow must be king. SEE VERSES : A LYRICAL ROMANCE. 97 THE LEGACY. 99 THE LEGACY. Her verses, — where she lies The tall trees bend and whisper ; Soft voices from the skies Recall the tuneful lisper : The sunny nooks she loved, Her flower-beds untended, Afflict us with neglect. Like fair things ill-befriended. Yet 'tis so merciful That Time wipes out our traces, And that the thick-set moss Grows o'er our darkened faceSj Till but some faithful heart Our faded traits comprises. And sorrow, dead in earth, In harmless beauty rises. 100 HER VERSES. She had a guileless heart, And Life was rude to grieve it ; She had a soul of fire, And Heaven is kind to shrive it : The years are past that said, " Keep long this seal unbroken ; But, when my name's forgot. Then let my words be spoken." So, standing at her grave. With trembling hands I gather The blossoms of her life, Bedimmed with rust and weather. O World ! while thus I wave Her dead hand's blessing o'er thee. Think 'tis my other self Whose heart lies bare before thee. BLUSHES. 101 BLUSHES. I CANNOT make him know my love ; Nor from myself conceal The pangs that rankle in my breast, Sharper than flame or steel. Could I but reach a hand to him, My very finger's thrill Would close, like tendrils, round the strength Of his beloved will. Could I but lift mine eyes to his. My glowing soul, unrolled. Would flash like sunset on his sight, In fiery red and gold. 102 HER VERSES. Yet pause, my unflecked soul, and think How vexed Penelope Forsook her nuptial joy, that love Should wait on modesty. For gentle souls must keep their bounds, Nor rudely snatch at bliss : The very sun should lose his light In giving it amiss. So, when I die, cross tenderly My palms upon my breast, And let some faithful hand compose My tired limbs to rest. But thou shalt fold this kerchief white, And lay it on my face. Saying, " She died of love untold ;• But she is dead in grace." WISHES. ' 103 WISHES. I WOULD I miglit approach thee, As the moon draws near the cloud, With still and stately courtesy. Clear-eyed and solemn-browed ; But, when their meeting comes, her face In his deep breast doth hide, The heavens are still, in solemn joy, The world is glorified. i I would I might approach thee, \ As music, swift afloat. Surprises, with its sudden joy, A wanderer in a boat : ( 104 HER VERSES. The sordid walls of life fall down Before that clarion clear ; A passing rapture oft recalled When days grow blank and drear. I would I might approach thee, As breezes fresh and pure, Unsighted, breathe on fevered lips. And throbbing temples cure ; As Joy and Love, and healthful Hope, Visit some chosen heart, And enter, softly welcomed there, And never more depart. FEARS. 105 FEARS. Oh ! how shall I grow fair enough For thee to look upon ? I am but the poor shallow water That glistens in the sun, That darkens, mean and beautiless, When his brief glance moves on. Oh ! what shall raise me to thy sphere ? How shall my thoughts aspire ? I am the string that warbles to A poet's touch of fire : He flings it by, — how dumb and low Sinks the forgotten lyre ! 106 HER VERSES. Remember, then, my humble heart That trembled with surprise ; Recall the faith that dared to meet The question of thine eyes : Shall these not make me dear to thee Through Love's eternities ? RESOLVES. 107 RESOLVES. You never knew how cruel kind Was the caress you gave ; You never meant to light a flame Should smoulder in my grave. From gentle studies, arts beloved, My thoughts all fix on thee ; And Peace dissolves before my sight, And Duty cannot be. Oh ! speak one word so kindly rude, So greatly stern and true, That I may kiss thy feet for shame, And rise, absolved and new. 108 HER VERSES. Then with some song of noblest worth I'll pay this truant rhyme, And stretch my stolen broidery to The boundless tasks of Time« STUDIES. 109 STUDIES. ] Slowly roll the wheels of Science On the flowery ways of Love : Clogged with sweets, the cheated pedant j Waits, forgetful of remove. \ \ Or like Icarus aspiring \ To the nearness of the sun ; See, the waxen wings are melted, The ambitious race is run ! \ Love has neither past nor future ; Till thou break its awful vow ; ! Neither was nor shall be blessed : It is one eternal Now. 110 HER VERSES. LATIN. Here amid shadows, lovingly embracing, Dropt from above by apple-trees unfruitful. With a chance scholar, caught and held to help me, Read I in Horace ; Lost in the figures, lawless in the metrum, Piecing the classic phrase with homespun English, Bridging doubtful meanings with such daring fictions As move his wonder. Dust lay condensed on the covers lexiconic, — Tacitus above stairs, quasi sub-neglected, Very little progress since I saw your godship, Day to be remembered 1 LATIN. Ill Ave, sweet Horace, all thy wonder graces (Soul of perfection, with a change of rainbows) Less must delight me than thy fervent nature, Foremost in friendship. " "We with one bound will pursue the silent journey : Ibimus, ibimus, — let one urn contain us ! " Which would survive, to choke Love's glowing embers With Life's gray ashes ? Happy thy Maecenas ! happier thou to praise him. Twining thy best beauties round the brow thou lovest : Oh ! to nobly name whom the deep heart doth worship Is a boon most holy. Yonder by the high-road, from the post-town leading, Cometh at seasons a worn and dusty carriage : Two white bony horses, rudely loricated. Drag it behind them. Ilt2 HER VERSES. In the carriage mostly come my born relations, Yery keen to see me in the rural season ; Board and bedding gratis, compliments at parting : " Come again next summer." Oh ! if one I knew of hastened down the high-road, Like a heaven-sent angel, present to petition, Would I sit searching thy disjointed meanings, Horace the Dainty? Should I not then fling far the well-bound volume. Decent in sheep-skins thou wert never blest with ? P^or this heart of mine, high leaping, wild rejoicing, Then would be the poet. A DREAM. 113 A DREAM. A WOMAN came, wearing a veil ; Her features were burning and pale ; At the door of the shrine doth she kneel And waileth out, bowing her head, " Ye men of remembrance and dread, Exorcise the pangs that I feel. A boat that is torn with the tide, A mountain with flame in its side That rends its devouring way, A feather the whirlwind lifts high. Are not wilder or weaker than I, Since Love makes my bosom his prey. 114 HER VERSES. Ye Saints, I fall down at your feet ; Thou Virgin, so piteous to greet, Reach hither the calm of your hands-; Ye statues of power and of art. Let your marble weight lie on my heart, Hold my madness with merciful bands." The priest takes his candle and book With the pity of scorn in his look. And chants the dull Mass through his teeth 5 But the penitent, clasping his knees. Cries, " Vain as the sough of the breeze Are thy words to the anguish of death." The priest, with reproval and frown, Bids the listless attendant reach down The water that sprinkles from sin. " Your water is water," she cries : " The further its foolishness flies, The fiercer the flames burn within." A DREAM. 115 " Gret thee hence to the cell and the scourge ! " The priest in his anger doth urge, " Or the fire of the stake thou shalt prove, Maintaining with blasphemous tongue That the mass-book and censer, high swung, Cannot cast out the demon of Love." Then the Highest stept down from his place, While the deptlis of his wonderful face The thrill of compassion did move : " Come, hide thee," he cried, " in this breast ; I summon the weary to rest ; With love I exorcise thy love." 116 HER VERSES. WAKING. Soft as the touch of twilight that restores The hard-bound earth from summer sweat and strain, This dream of morning soothed my fevered soul, And gave me to my gentleness again. So, bathed in pearly sweets, I oped mine eyes. And saw the beauty that the morning paints, And saw the shadows strengthen in the sun "With the calm willingness of dying saints. Oh ! had I then to passion died, such peace Had filled my parting as transfigures Death ; But thou didst turn me backward with a word, And Love celestial fled Love's human breath. THE SUMMONS. 117 THE SUMMONS. I EXPECT you in September With the glory of the year : You shall make the Autumn precious, And the death of Summer dear ; You shall help the days that shorten, With a lengthening of delight ; You shall whisper long-drawn blisses Through the gatherins: screen of nisrht. I will lead you, dream-enchanted. Where the fairest grasses grow ; I will hear your murmured music Where the fresh winds pipe and blow. On the brown heath, weird-encircled, Shall our noiseless footsteps fall, — We, communing with twin counsel. Each to other all in all. 118 HER VERSES. Leave the titles that mea owe thee ; Like the first pair let us meet ; Name the world all over to me, New-created at thy feet ; Gentle task and duteous learning, I will hang upon thy breath With the tender zeal of childhood, With the constancy of death. What shall be the gods declare not, — They who stamp Love's burning coin Into spangles of a moment. Into stars that deathless shine. Oh ! the foolish music lingers ; For the theme is heavenly dear : I expect you in September, With the glories of the year. WAITING. 119 WAITING. I HAVE set my house in order For a stately step to grace ; I have bidden the mirrors keep record Of a never-forgotten face ; I have brightened with thrifty cunning The walls of my sylvan home : They are beautiful in the shadow Of him who vouchsafes to come. I have swept the leaves from the greensward, And the gray stones twinkle and shine ; I have loosened each fretful tangle Of the twisted cedar and vine ; I have ordered the waters waste not Their splendors upon mine eye, But to wait, like my heart, for thy footsteps, And gush when thou drawest nigh. 120 HER VERSES. Myself I would dress for thy presence ; But there I must stand and weep, Since the years that teach Love's value His vanishing treasure sweep. But words that are spells of magic, And merciful looks and ways, Shall brighten the rusted features That faded when none did praise. Thou gracious and lordly creature, Do the trees, when thou passest by. Let down their fair arms to enlace thee, And the flowers reach up to thine eye? Do they wait, all athrill, when thou passest, For a touch of thy life divine ? Do they fold their meek hands when thou fleetest. And die for a breath of thine ? My heart has leapt forth to embrace thee ; It clings, like a babe, to thy breast ; And my blood is a storm-stirred ocean That waits for the word of rest. WAITING. 121 Time loses his paltry measure Now that Love's eterne draws near, And the lingering moments that part us Are endless in hope and fear. Oh ! what if, beyond thy sunshine, Some gathering storm should brood ? Thy rapture, forsaking, shall leave me Alone with God's orphanhood. The heart thou hast blest so inly Shall wait no inglorious breath : Come hither, then, ye who walk twiiily \ So enter here, Love and Death ! 122 HER VERSES. THE END. Death entered where Love was waiting With the frosted lily-crown, — Pale pontiff, shadow-mating, Waving the life-flame down. His slaves, with robes of whiteness, Shrouded the glowing face : Gone is the vision of brightness, A ghost is in its place. They bore her with solemn knelling, By saintly crypt and nave. To her new-appointed dwelling, — The cloisters of the errave. THE END. 123 There, 'mong the silent sisters, She tarries, with folded palms : Where the passing torch-light glisters, They answer in whispered psalms. But as one the convent hideth, At the festivals of God, From the covert where she bideth, Sends holy song abroad ; So she, whom then we buried With manifold sob and strain, Sends back her song, love-varied, To waken our joy again, — Sends back the flame of fervor That warms not her frozen breast, To guide Love's true deserver To her place in the fields of rest. POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. 125 TO THE CRITIC. 127 TO THE CRITIC. Of all my verses, say that one is good, So shalt thou give more praise than Hope might claim ; And from my poet-grave, to vex thy soul, No ghost shall rise, v^hose deeds demand a name. A thousand loves, and only one shall stand To show us what its counterfeits should be ; The blossoms of a spring-tide, and but one Bears the world's fruit, — the seed of History. A thousand rhymes shall pass, and only one Show, crystal-shod, the Muse's twinkling feet ; A thousand pearls the haughty Ethiop spurned Ere one could make her luxury complete. 128 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. In goodliest palaces, some meanest room The OTvner's smallness shields contentedly. Nay, further : of the manifold we are, But one pin's point shall pass eternity. Exalt, then, to the greatness of the throne One only of these beggarlings of mine ; I with the rest will dwell in modest bounds The chosen one shall glorify the line. PHILOSOPHY. 129 PHILOSOPHY. Naked and poor thou goest, Philosophy ! Thy robe of serge hath lain beneath the stars ; Thy weight of tresses, ponderously free, Of iron hue, no golden circlet bars. Thy pale page. Study, by thy side doth hold, As by Cyprigna's her persuasive boy : Twin sacks thou bear'st ; one doth thy gifts infold, Whose modest tendering proves immortal joy. The other at thy patient back doth hang To keep the boons thou'rt wonted to receive : Reproof therein doth hide her venomed fang. And hard barbaric arts, that mock and grieve. 9 130 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Here is a stab, and here a mortal thrust ; Here galley service brought the age to loss ; Here lies thy virgin forehead rolled in dust Beside the martyr stake or hero cross. They who besmirched thy whiteness with their pitch, Thy gallery of glories did complete ; They who accepted of thee so grew rich, Men could not count their treasures in the street. Thy hollow cheek, and eye of distant light. Won from the chief of men their noblest love ; Olympian feasts thy temperance requite, And thy worn weeds a priceless dowry prove. I know not if I've caught the matchless mood In which impassioned Petrarch sang of thee ; But this I know, — the world its plenitude May keep, so I may share thy beggary. KOSMOS. 131 KOSMOS. Of dust the primal Adam came In wondrous sequency evolved, With speech that gave creation name, Of art and artist never solved. With something of a mother-pang The Sun conceived the starry spheres That from her burning bosom sprang, — Immortal children of her tears. From height of heat, and stress of span, The measured Earth took poise and hold ; And beasts, the prophecy of man. And man, were latent in her mould. 132 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. And hid in man a world intense, The centre point of things that be, With soul that conquers out of sense Its incomplete divinity. Around one infinite intent All power and inspiration move. Thrilling with light the firmament, Liftinsr the heart of man with love. FIEST CAUSES. 133 FIRST CAUSES. " We need no God," the Atheist said ; " The World is wound, and set to go : How it was wound we do now know ; But go it will when we are dead. You question me as one who pleads To keep his ancient faith with tears : In this our harmlessness appears, — We rob no nature of its needs. The weak, for whom a God must be, Will hold the apt invention still, While from the arbitrary will We and the hardier souls are free." 134 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Like one who in the dark would walk Where men by day securely tread, And stumbles with uneasy dread, The Atheist blundered in his talk. Now from my window I survey This amphitheatre of peace, Where moon and stars, without surcease, Nightly present their heavenly play. I see the beauteous drama ^vrought ; Its acts and interludes I trace : I need not seek the Author's face, Whose spirit visits me unsought. And what that need, both old and new, The eternal need of human-kind? Not that we keep a fable blind : It is that thou, dear God, be true. THE CHRIST. 135 THE CHRIST. No idle superstition made him ; Nor canst thou, Critic, him unmake ; No sect upreared his holy stature, Beloved for its divineness' sake. Wipe rudely out the glowing picture ; Leave but thy blank for man to read ; Write nothingness where'er it please thee ; Take, as I fling them, creed for creed : What hast thou then ? thine own dominion, The empire that thy nature craves ; Crown thee a tyrant of opinion, With disbelievers for thy slaves. 136 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. He grew not great by priestly cunning, Nor magic gifts, nor Eastern arts : Immortal love sprang up to honor The fair ideal of our hearts. As from some dreamer's inspiration Each noble school of Science grew. And rules that help the striving many Were moulded from the gifted few ; So, from his life and thoughts transcendent. Flashed light that ages cannot dim : Blind Faith and Feeling were before him ; Religion followed after him. THE CHURCH. 137 THE CHURCH. 1 I HEARD one say in sunny travel, ' \ A braggart Frenchman, rude and vain, i He and his mates would mine St. Peter's, i And blast it with a powder-train. I saw in thought the mighty ruin, The wealth of Art and Record gone ; The unfading pictures wrenched and shattered ; The arches, music-knit, o'erthrown. I thought how piteous Contadini j Would miss that genial mother-hearth ; j How, from the falling water-vases, l The marble doves would flutter forth. 138 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Then, from the ghastly vision turning, Mine eye the silly Celt did reach : I said, and every heart responded, " Now, never more with me hold speech." So thou, whose ill-conditioned learning Would shake the aisles where Faith abides ; Where, from the vulgar world out-driven, Devotion, crowned of ages, hides, — Wield cautiously the crushing mallet : Not Peter's door alone you break ; But, of the temple of our sires, A weltering heap of dust you make. These aisles were built with holy living. These stones were piled with thought and prayer The world before us gave the pattern. The world that follows is the heir ; THE CHURCH. 139 And hearts are set, like gems incrusted, In the fair walls ; and, ruby-red, The blood of martyrdom doth stain them, And tears more terrible to shed. So, build thy dome in airy heaven A shelter for new hope and joy, And write thereon the Master-sentence, " Come to deliver, not destroy." 140 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. THE CRUCIFIX. In desolations of my own I see a figure lifted lone, Stript, and extended felon-wise, That yields not to the solvent skies. Mother and friends are stolen away ; Fails, too, the cordial light of day ; And Darkness, and the deep Divine, Their counsels mystical intwine. The greatest distance cannot hide, Nor Time, more potent to divide : Touch but the golden bond of prayer, He and his agony are there. THE CRUCIFIX. 141 The Angel, with the nod of Fate, Unsmiling and compassionate, From Life's rude banquet beckoneth To front us with that crowned death. So silent, yet he stirs our veins To madden for heroic pains ; So passive, turning human-kind, Leagued with omnipotence of mind. Uplifting all our weight of woe. Bringing the vaulted heavens low. Remembered as the immortal One Who was, and willed to be, their Son. 142 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. KENYON'S LEGACY. Good Johnny Kenyon's gone and done The best thing with his money : He's left it for two Poet-Bees, Who make the wasp-world honey. Unthrifty work, — a world has wants, A market-man provides it ; Small wages has the working bee, Or the good God who guides it. But Kenyon knew the market-men, And so bestowed his money. That om' two rifled Bees might live From henceforth on their honey. KENTON'S LEGACY. 143 lu Casa Guidi, where they dwell, They keep the tea-pot waiting : The precious vapor spends itself For their poetic prating. I know a Western dame who keeps The villa styled Negroni, And whose well-regulated cups Are hot to friend and crony. She says our poets enter like A church who brings his steeple ; With visions of the gods they praise, They yawn at common people. When they in turn invite at home. The chairs are queer and rotten, The board is bare, the talk divine, The tea-pot long forgotten. 144 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. John Kenyon was an Englishman, And understood the duty- England expects from English wives, Who stand for thrift and beauty. He did not score it in his will, For that had been ungracious ; He itold it not by word of mouth, Dependence thrice fallacious. " 'Tis in the fitness of the thing, And they, be sure, will feel it ; Or else some medial-rapping friend For sixpence may reveal it. Aurora ! diy your pen at night ; Repose shall help your dreaming ; Enjoy your victuals from this hour, And keep your tea-pot steaming." KENTON'S LEGACY. 145 Like those long-exiled Empire-bees, Who now, to fortune coming, Poise on the topmost bough, and fill Your Europe with their humming ; So may you, gold-emblazoned, rest On velvet pall and mantle. Or where luxurious drapings hide Time's monitors unofentle. Or better, build a crystal hive, With this remembrance sunny : "One good man helps the bankrupt world To pay our priceless honey." 146 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. TO ONE WHO LIES IN FLORENCE. Shower lilies from the skies Where our lovely Ladye lies ! Birds of more than mortal tune, Soothe her rest by night and noon ; Angel loves be softly told O'er her consecrated mould ; Hearts that noblest strive and mean At her shrine their comforts glean. Neither may the sun despise To salute her Avhere she lies, Nodding over woods and water To Apollo's crowned daughter, TO ONE WHO LIES IN FLORENCE. 147 Christian Sappho she, whose verse Holy loving souls rehearse That a benediction seek Pontiffs have not grace to speak ; For her bosom temple sweet Charity did make complete ; Human passions lost their pride Ranged before the gentle-eyed ; Sword of meekness pierceth deep, Bitterest chide the eyes that weep ; And her anger humbled most Through her pity, never lost. Sister, whose fair lot is cast Where the shadows of the past And the sunshine of to-day Interlace on God's highway, None of all thy joys I'd ask. Harnessed gladly to my task. But the parting kiss she gave. And the pause beside her grave. 148 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Scatter lilies from the skies, Shower tears from angels' eyes, Who forget not that their joy Our contentment doth destroy. Nought of earth so good and fair That beside her may compare ; Nought of heaven too purely blest To infold her sinless rest ! THE PRICE OF THE D I VINA COMMEDIA. 149 THE PRICE OF THE DIVINA COMMEDIA. Give, — you need not see the face, But the garment hangeth bare ; And the hand is gaunt and spare That enforces Christian grace. Many ages will not bring Such a point as this to sight, That the world should so requite Master heart and matchless string. Wonder at the well-born feet Fretting in the flinty road. Hath this virtue no abode ? Hath this sorrow no retreat ? 150 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXFEIilENCE. See, beneath the hood of grief, Muffled bays engird the brow. Fame shall yield her topmost bough Ere that laurel moult a leaf. Give : it is no idle hand That extends an asking palm, Tracing yet the loftiest psalm By the heart of Nature spanned. In the antechamber long Did he patient hearing crave : Smiles and splendors crown the slave, While the patriot suffers wrong. Could the mighty audience deign, Meeting once the inspired gaze, They should ransom all their days With the beauty of his strain. THE PRICE OF THE DIVINA COMMEDIA. 151 With a spasm in his breast, With a consummate love alone, All his human blessings gone, Doth he wander, void of rest. Not a coin within his purse, Not a crust to help his way, Making yet a Judgment Day With his power to bless and curse. Give ; but ask what he has given That Posterity shall tell, — All the majesty of Hell ; Half the ecstasy of Heaven. 152 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A NEW SCULPTOR. Once to my Fancy's hall a stranger came, Of mien unwonted ; And its pale shapes of glory without shame Or speech confronted. Fair was my hall, — a gallery of gods Smoothly appointed. With nymphs and satyrs from the dewy sods Freshly anointed. Great Jove sat throned in state, with Hermes near, And fiery Bacchus, Pallas and Pluto, and those powers of fear Whose visions rack us. A NEW SCULPTOR, , 163 Artemis wore her crescent free of stars, The hunt just scented ; Glad Aphrodite met the warrior Mars, The myriad-tented. Rude was my visitant, of sturdy form, Draped in such clothing As the world's great, whom luxury makes warm, Look on with loathinor. And yet methought his service-badge of soil With honor wearing, And in his dexter hand, embossed with toil, A hammer bearing:. But while I waited till his. eye should sink. Overcome with beauty, With heart-impatience brimming to the brink Of courteous duty, 154: POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. He smote my marbles many a murderous blow, His weapon poising ; I, in my wrath and wonderment of woe, No comment voicing. "Come, sweep this rubbish from the workman's way, Wreck of past ages ! Afford me here a himp of harmless clay, Ye grooms and pages ! " Then from that voidness of our mother-earth A frame he builded. Of a new feature, with the power of birth Fashioned and welded. It had a might mine eyes had never seen, A mien, a stature. As if the centuries that rolled between Had greatened Nature. A NEW SCULPTOR. 155 It breathed, it moved ; above Jove's classic swdy A place was won it : The rustic sculptor motioned ; then " To-day " He wrote upon it. " Wliat man art thou ?" I cried, " and what this wron^ That thou hast wrought me ? My marbles lived on symmetry and song : Why hast thou brought me A form of all necessities, that asks Nurture and feeding? Not this the burthen of my maidhood's tasks, Nor my high breeding." "Behold," he said, "Life's great impersonate, Nourished by labor ! Thy gods are gone with old-time faith and fate ; Here is thy Neighbor." 156 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A VICTIM OF TIBERIUS. What woiildst thou with me, jailer dark and grim? My father was Sejanus : this his house, From which they took him darkly, days ago. Is mine own home, where I have right to dweU. Where went my tather ? He was Ca3sar s friend. But, waiting here, I heard (he multitude Shouting his doalh, which yet I'll not believe. And, when they forced my brother from my side, Still as a ghost he went, and came no more. Sec my poor toys spread out before the hearth I It was a mimic sacrifice I made : This doll was Iphigenia, this the priest ; And here I pierced my finger, to make blood, A VICTIM OF TIBEEIUS. 157 Till my ntrrse chid me. Are you come for that? I know our pastime may offend the gods ; Know the dark air is full of whispering things That bear our follies to the ear of those Whose wrath is strong, and vengeance terrible. But I'm not wicked : 'twas no deadly rite Invoking evil chance on man or God, Or Caesar, who is both, they say, in one. If any power have sent you for my faults, Which I'll confess as quickly as you'll name. Bid old Camilla take my mother's rod, (I had a mother,) she can use it well ; And I'll endure it, though I meant no wrong. Tliou dost not leave me ? In thy fearful eyes, My childhood withers with an instant age. The marrow of my joints seems long drawn out Caught on the horror of thy countenance. Oh ! this is like the nightmare that I feared. Not knowing it could walk abroad by day, I'd shriek for pity ; but my voice is choked. As if the ashes of the things I love 158 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Stood in my throat to bury utterance. I must go with thee ? Never, while I live. Ah, pity ! by my hair he hurries me Forth from the palace, through the glaring streets, That strangely reel, and vanish from my sight. I see the gods there, black against the sky. And stiffening with the horror of men's deeds. The spell that binds my lips is on their hands, Or they would move to help me. Where is Csesar? Now hear this wretch that whispers in mine ear, " Caesar will have thy blood." This gives me strength To snap the chilly net-work of my fear. And cry, " Thou liest ! " See, the Consul comes ! '^ O noble man ! I clasp thy garment's edge : Save me as thou wouldst save thy fair-haired girl, My playmate once." Tears darkle in his eyes : Pale, with a stifled curse he turns away ; He cannot aid me. Where the columns range, The conscript fathers keep the weal of Rome. Hark to me, fathers, — I am fatherless ! So quick away? Hear, Tyber, then, my cry ; Hear, ye protecting hills ! Ah ! silent all. A VICTIM OF TIBERIUS. 159 'What's this dark vault? aud what yon rusted ring With the noose dangling ? Look to thine own fate ! Thou dar'st not slay a virgin. I will tear Thine eyes with these small fingers ere thou come A foot's length nearer ! Keep away, away, Thou untold horror ! Only touch me not ; And I will twine thy halter round my throat Like a bright riband on a festal day. Give me the rope ! let my poor bruised hands go. Seeking the priceless mercy Death can bring. Oh, come ! since thy still feet are waited for As the last rapture, — sweet, thou com'st too late. 160 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. CAIUS C^SAR. I AM the monster Caius, loathed of men, — Him whose foul record women may not read. In distant Gaul, an altar to the gods Attests the mother-pangs that brought me forth, As I should prove a boon to move them thanks. My father bred me soldierly in camps ; And the small jack-boots gave my childish name Caligula. That father, in the East, Sickened with secret poisons. Ye remember How wild his widow bore the funeral urn, Landing at Cyprus? Dark Tiberius then Drew his death-circle slowly round our way. My mother, struggling longest, fell at last. Two brothers followed, — one by hunger's woe ; One by his own resolved hand escaped GAIUS CJSSAR. 161 The hangman's noose, and hooks of infamy. But I, surviving, kept the tyrant's side So near, he could not spring to strangle me. Slowly he recognized my crafty soul, Knew me his master in all shameful arts. And, having lopped the fair limbs from the tree. Left me for the blood-blossoms I should bear. And fruit of death. At first I only aped His outward fashions ; then I learned his thoughts ; Then his malignant madness seized on me. And made me like him. Dying as he lay, I forced the cushion 'twixt his gaping jaws. And sped his flight from earth. That was, at least, A service. Could I catalogue my deeds. Thou couldst not stay to hear them. Hell itself Swoons at the fatal tale, and cries, " Away ! " My royal ways were tapestried with blood ; First my young brother's, followed by a train Of ghosts that might become imperial race. I snatched from new-wed souls their nuptial joys, And flung them back, disfigured to disgust. So monstrous and unnatural my lusts, 11 162 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. That the dark horror of the Caesar's name Banished the bkishing rose of modesty, And set a ghastly pallor in its place. My victims were not rashly sped to death, But tickled with such agony of pain As gave the stab of dissolution price. These pleasures wearied, when the thirst for gold Set in, as cruel and more terrible. I wrung the hand of toil, whose wretched pence Gained too much honor in my haughty use. I saw that vice had profit ; wherefore then I planted it, and gave it ministrance. As one should tend a vine of fiery grov^rth. To madden others, and enrich one's self. To coin, coin, coin, from every bosom's life, Became my master-thought. Nor was there rest When darkness hid the busy threads that weave Tlie color and consistence of men's days. My dreams were brief. I walked the sileirt halls, And plotted murder till the morning came That made it easy. When I clasped a neck Close to mine own, I whispered, "Love me well, CAIUS C^SAB. • 163 Since this fair throat is mine to cut or keep." All attributions to myself I drew, All powers, all pleasures, all magnificence. I clothed in silks and plumes and gems confused. Now as a woman, now as man, I walked. Now as a god, with beard of wroughten gold ; And no one chid me, — no one showed a chain. Or frowned, or threatened as I passed his way. Beauty was peril, — the fair locks of youth Were shorn to honor my denuded front. Where one stood eminent for strength and grace, I marked him, and the hangman had his word. Thus did my rivals vanish. All the while. The slow death ripened in yon treacherous skies, That looked so blandly, till one burning noon, All Rome being gathered at the circus sport, Loosed the swift hand that smote me. As it feU, A score of poniards, like a shower of stars. Glittered before me : death was everywhere ; And, hacked and hewed like Julius, I went down. One shout, the uplifting of a sea of hearts That praised the gods, was my last sign on earth. 164 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. The night befoi'e the end of all things came, I dreamed I sat beside Olympian Jove, And, reasoning as an equal, blazoned forth Designs and deeds. " Thus have I done, and thus ; From mine o-svn will, the perfect law of earth. Hast thou no joy in my magnificence That goes abroad so glorious, like to thine ? Look at my costly tunic, broidered robe, Beard of pure gold, and blazing diadem ! Think of my pleasures, boundless as thine own ; My power, like thine, unquestioned, flinging down Death, and a thousand deaths, for one caprice. I claim celestial triumph at thine hands : Here shall they crown me, equal to thyself." And in my heart I pondered, " Why not greater? " Thereat the Immortal's front grew dark with wrath, And, with one sudden spurning of his foot, He sent me down to earth, precipitate. Even on this wise, the morrow showed my fall ; But I am now where lower depth is none, Nor liirht of Jove, nor human countenance. CAIUS CjESAR. 165 Only a company of crowned ghosts Fill up the void with wail that never tires, Who, with a drunken madness like to mine. Dreamed they were gods, and, waking, were not men. 166 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. CLAUDIUS. When Caius Caesar sank 'ueatli righteous steel, The sweet blue patience of the firmament Giving full measure, ere Jove's lightning fell, — Poor Uncle Claudius ! the fool, of whom Augustus wrote, " Let him not sit with us To see the games ; contrive him out of sight Who shames the Caesars with his awkward ways," — He, scorned of men, the butt of all his tribe. Astonished with the murder, hid his head In the first truckle-bed he came upon, Leaving his heels out, by the which they seized. And dragged him forth. "To death?" he sliivering cried. " To empire ! " they, and crowned him where he stood. • CLAUDIUS. 167 Not in derision, he gave grace to God, And spread his solid base of human life. The ambitious rather tampered with his wives Than set him on to capering cruelty. Law did he give, assiduous, all the day ; Though, once, the cook-shop near the judgment-hall So overcame him, that he slid away, Feasted him full, and let the sentence wait. His tastes in blood were moderate, but nice. He loved to see the Retiarius die. And therefore bade him lift his quivering face In the last spasm. Or he would wait a day The leisure of the executioner Rather than lose the victim's agonies The law allowed him. With a sudden zeal He pleaded once the tavern-keeper's cause : " For who, my masters, would forego his morsel At the right moment, smoking, brown, and crisp ? And those old wine-shops, with such cool retreats, And clammy jars, distilling juice divine, 168 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Shall we not keep them ? Other things nrast pass : These good old friends shall stand, Joy's monuments." He gave the people victuals more than once, And worthy games, with water combats rare. Walking abroad, he dubbed them " Dominos," His toga loose and slovenly put on, And offered salutation with his left, — An act unseemly for a nobleman. His married life had little luck or skill, — The second venture wilder than the first, While the third slew him with his favorite dish, The stew of mushrooms, dangerous and dear. Pass on, poor wretch, so dull and debonair, — This mayst thou teach : How great soe'er the fool, The multitude's a greater whom he rides. THE VISION OF PAUL. 169 THE VISION OF PAUL. What is this that stops my way- Like a wall, unseen by day? Who doth bid my errand stay Ere I come ? What o'erclouds me like a dream, Blotting each remembered scheme With an unaccustomed theme ? " Jesu sum." What strange dissolntion rends From the comfort of my friends. From my life's determined ends ? Dark and dumb. What doth bind my fluent tongue 170 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Like an instrument unstrung. With its lesson never sung? " Jesu sum." See ! this sudden shock of light Falls like palsy on my sight, Till I view no path aright In my gloom ; All my faculties are dead, Every sinew bound with lead : What this shivering trance of dread ? " Jesu sum." " Listen, since for human weal, That thy misdirected zeal, Mightier than it murdered, heal. Am I come : Thou with stones my saints hast slain, Torture bound with scourge and chain ; Know thyself the martyr pain ! Jesu sum. THE VISION OF PAUL. 171 Thou wert mine without thy knowing ; From this moment's wonder-showing, Pay the debt thy life is owing Burthensome : On the blindness of thy thought Dawns the inner life unsought. Teach, as thou thyself art taught ; Jesu sum." 172 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. THE GOOD GUALDERALDA. By Arno, oq the Tuscan side, The matchless Gualderalda grew, Where many a farm and meadow wide Her father's domination knew. He moved in dark and sullen strength ; She grew a lovely flower apart, With virtues cloistered round her soul. Like leaflets round the lily's heart. And now great news the castle stirs : The King, in hunting, takes this way, And of your hospitable walls Will ask his welcome for a day. THE GOOD GUALDERALDA. 173 " Sir Count, the world accords your house A daughter marvellously fair : If I accept your loyal vows, To see her face shall be my prayer." Then from her turret near the sky Came she in blushing maidenhood ; Then first unveiled before the eye Of eao^er admiration stood, " Sire, you shall touch my daughter's lips If so your royal pleasure deign ; " Then paled, in wan and strange eclipse, Her beauty, with a sudden pain. " No man shall touch my lips,'' she saith, " Save he who claims my wedded hand : Rather will I resign my breath. And yield my pulses where I stand." 174 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. " How? dost thou mock me, froward girl?" " Nay, count," the wiser king replies, " Thou wert a worse than peasant churl Such unflecked virtue to despise. Go, Gualderalda, fair indeed ! I'll wed thee proudly in the land : The noblest knight that crosses steed Shall claim thy dowry at my hand." Men note not where her bones repose In some old crypt, forgotten long ; But Dante keeps her virgin rose Bright in the chaplet of his song. 1830 AND 1853. 175 1830 AND 1853. An old man mazed and wild Bearing a blond-haired child, A woman blind with tears, — The mournful train sweeps on ; And the monarchy is gone For all the coming years. They would have lingered slow, For their hearts beat faint and low, Their lives were a feeble spoil ; But the power that's new and strong Cries, " Hasten them along, Away from their native soil ! " 176 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. But I can stop, and sigh At this grief of years gone by, — An old man's fault and fall, — And say that the exile's woe Is a piteous thing to know, Is the heaviest weird of all. In a palace bare and old That a royal race left cold, These children of the sun Shall moulder in faded state, Till the sentence, soon or late, Remove them every one. Perhaps the shade of her. For whom brave blood doth stir To this day in gallant breasts, Moved through the dusky pile. And welcomed with sad smile The old ancestral crests. 1830 AND 1853. . 177 The France that gave her birth, Land of delight and mirth Her lips were fond to bless, Rolled this one shattered wave Across her foreign grave For very tenderness. She stands beside his knee, And, looking wistfully Upon his reverend head, Sighs, " Uncle, are you come From our beloved home ? 'Tis better to be dead ! " O England ! glad and free, With thine own liberty Endow thy trembling guest ; Stretch soft thy mantle where He feels the wintry air. And fondle him to rest. 12 178 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. But, lo ! a wilder sob, A swift and mighty throb ; And towards the rugged North, With exiled steps of pain. And fevered eye and brain, Tis France herself goes forth. 'Tis France ; for 'neath the sun Freedom and she were one Five little years ago. Her glorious flag they fold As a thing disused and old : " We have other fashions now.' Her sons must seek their bread, And lay the weary head In countries cold and lone ; Their halls are desolate ; The friends that made them great, Their works, and days, are gone. 1830 AND 1853. 179 Nay, never flee, but stand. Your good sword in your hand, And cry your watchword true. Drive the pursuer back ; The foe upon your track Is mortal, even as you. His slimy, serpent ways ; His cold, voluptuous days ; His coffers, guilt-increased ; Your fathers' hearths grow cold, Yourselves in exile old. That he may reign and feast. His infant let him fold In cloth of silk and gold, Feeding on pearly food : That child of bastard race, Let it, too, find a place In quiet Holy rood. 180 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE, Flame lights the sunken cheek ; But the exile's hand is weak, Weightless for good or ill : Heaven give him sufferance ! But thou, great land of France, But God, what is thy will ? Oh ! never read to-day. Oh ! stretching far away Where stars revolve and burn, — The lessons of the free, The good that is to be, My children wait to learn. PERUGIA. • 181 PERUGIA. Kemember ye Perugia, where Raphael dwelt in years Whose visions crowded on his brain, ere praise amazed his ears ; Where, ripening fast, a Virgin in his master's style he drew. With Babe and Prayer-book in her hands, and heavy hood of blue ? Oh ! saw you e'er the Switzers stand in helmed and jerkined row. When Christ's meek vicar up the aisle of holy church would go ? Bull-necked and brutal-featured they, ferocious, bold and strong, — Their only faith the pound of flesh that's paid for, right or wrong. 182 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. I've seen them when that church was thronged with pageants grand and gay ; When royal rank, and worldly fame, and beauty there held sway : The columns wavered in the smoke, the banners hung aloof. And the golden song effaced from mind the glories of the roof. My soul was drunk with harmony, my senses swam and reeled : It may be, when the trump did sound, that down I sank and kneeled ; Yet thought I, when I marked those men in cuirass and in sword, " How little is the Vicar's state remindful of his Lord ! No need to keep the people from his mild and harm- less way ; They touched his garments for relief, and were not warned away ; PERUGIA. • 183 And, when his hour of danger came, he put defence to shame. Commanding, ' Sheathe again thy sword, or perish by the same ! ' " They came to old Perugia, that helmed and jerkined pack ; They came with murder in their hearts, and armor at their back ; They shot the men about the streets, the women at their fire. The infant at its mother's knee, child, wife, and aged sire. The streets ran blood : in every house some ghastly corpse was seen. The passing traveller saved his life by a forgotten screen ; And, when the fiends have done their work, to Rome they take their way ; The Pope doth welcome them again, and gladly counts their pay. 184 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Remember well Perugia, thou Old World and thou New! The Vicar's visitation this, — such care he takes of you. Ye of no sin accused or tried, warped to no heresy, Guilty of nothing but the sweet contagion of the free. Remember, ye who deeply think, and ye who greatly dare ; Remember, ye who talk with God in poesy and prayer ; For he's the lie of all the earth, that false Pope, pride- enthroned. Begirt with flaming cardinals, an idol, serpent-zoned. 'Tis time that Christ should come again, and sweep his temple clean, And rend the glittering robes that hide a fable poor and mean. His Church was not a fortress armed, to deal out death and dread ; Nor yet a mummy sepulchre, where men adore the dead: PERUGIA. 185 It was — but ere our creeds grow wise, let once our arms be strong To fling beyond the hating world this monstrous curse and wrong. Sweet Christ, let faithless Peter sink, forgotten, like a stone ; And the fair ship move swiftly on, afloat with thee alone ! My country, let no hoary lie for refuge come to you ! The things that were have had their day ; the things that are, are true. While women kiss the jewelled hand, and praise the broidered hem, Let men bring back the heart of Christ, that lives for us and them. 186 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. OF WOMAN. It was a silken woman of the world That of fond Herod claimed the Baptist's head : " If this sad virtue gets to countenance, Our dancing's done with, in the quickest way." And, for a painted toy, the anointed brow That knew the Christ's significance must fall. Such deadly power is hid in smallest things : The Aspic might have chilled from Love's delight The bosom it assisted to Love's end. The shaft of death is subtle as a thread, — The air may bring, the garland's bloom conceal, - One desperate finger holds it over us, Or in a woman's snowy breast it lies. OF WOMAN. , 187 Teach, then, the woman all the Prophet's worth. So will she bow the tresses of her head To yield him passing homage, and pour out The treasure of her life to ransom his. I love the woman with the woman's heart. Giving, not gathering, — shedding light abroad As the man glooms it in, for midnight toil. Better our Hebrew Eve, who shares with love The guilty glory of her stolen prize. Than the three haughty Heathen who rose up. Claiming of man a vain pre-eminence, — Not his to give, — God's only, and the heart's. They showed me drawings by a six-years' child Of beasts incongruous, harnessed to a car : " Now, on my life, he is artist-born," I said. "Wherefore? You see the slim camelopard Rearing her strength up, pulling from the head ; While the swift horses stretch to twice their length, Spinning themselves to slender threads of speed. Nay, with their iron sinews knitting up 188 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A belt of haste like that our Shakspeare drew With Puck's impatient malice, round the world. The little one has guessed the trick of strength And action, so is artist-born," I say. " For your true artist knows how all things work ; Bestows no Zephyrus to prop a pile AYhose angles huge insult his littleness. Cramping the sympathetic soul with pain. But the great patient forms whose shoulders broad Invite such burthens ; whose fixed features say, ' This weight contents us ; we are glad in strength ; ' While the light figure poises at the top, Holding the heavy network gathered up To meet the apex of his graciousness. So, Sisters, leave the weightier tasks of strength, The underpinnings of society. And flutter with your graces nearer heaven. He thinks of you, the steadfast Caryatid, — The faithful arches clasp their hands beneath OF WOMAN. 189 To keep you in your breathless eminence ; The gloomy cellar way, the weary stair, Exalt the platform where you reign serene. Stay there. Beloved, the Angel at the top, That crowns and lightens all the heavy work. The very prisoners, entering at the grate, Perceive an intercession in thine eyes. And keep their dungeons, waiting for thy sword. Stay thus, my Angel, seeing over thee The Heaven that dreamed the Mary and her Christ, — The dream whereat the Baby Earth awoke, And, smiling, keeps that smile forever more.*' 190 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPEJilENCE. AMANDA'S INVENTORY. This is my hat : behold its upstart plume, Soaring like pride, that even in heaven asks room I This is my cloak of scarlet splendor rare, A saucy challenge to the sunset glare. Behold my coach of state and pony chaise, A fairy pleasure for the summer days ; The steeds that fly, like lightnings in a leash, With their rude Jove, subservient to my wish. Here are my jewels ; each a fortune holds ; A starving artist planned the graceful moulds : Here hang my dresses in composed array, A rainbow with a hue for every day. AMANDA'S INVENTORY. 191 These are my lovers, registered in date, Who, with my dowry, seek myself to mate. The haughtiest wooer wins me for his bride : Who asks affection ? Pride should wed with pride. These are my friends, who hourly come or send, Pleased with my notice and a finger-end ; Yonder's my parson, proud to share my feast ; My doctor's there, a sycophantic beast. This is my villa, where I take my ease With flowers well-ordered, and ambitious trees ; And this — what sudden spectre stays my breath ? Amanda, poor Amanda ! this is death. 192 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. LYKE-WAKE. I SAW him at a banquet gay, Elate with speech and flushed with wine ! Above the revel making way, His eye, unwitting, answered mine. What his expressed I did not read ; But mine, if I mistake not, said, " This minds me of their feasts indeed Who drain the wine-cup o'er their dead ; Who set the liquid fire to flare Where late the spirit-flame has flown ; The sorrow still unearthed and bare The miserable drink should drown." BARGAINS. 193 BARGAINS. He prest a ruby on her lips, whose burning blood shone through ; Twin sapphires bound above her eyes, to match their fiery blue ; And, where her hair was parted back, an opal gem he set, — Type of her changing countenance, where all delights were met. "Will you surrender now," he said, "the ancient grudge you keep Untiring and unuttered, like murder in the deep?" " I thank you for the word," she said ; " your gems are fair of form But when did jewels bind the depths, or splendors still the storm ? 13 194 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. There is no diamond in the mine, nor pearl beneath the wave, There is no fretted coronet that soothes a princely grave, There is nor fate nor empire in the wide infinity, Can stand in grace and virtue with the gift you had from me." ROUGE GAGNE. , 195 ROUGE GAGNE. The wheel is turned, the cards are laid ; The circle's drawn, the bets are made : I stake my gold upon the red. The rubies of the bosom mine, The river of life, so swift divine, In red all radiantly shine. Upon the cards, like gouts of blood, Lie dinted hearts, and diamonds good. The red for faith and hardihood. In red the sacred blushes start On errand from a virgin heart, To win its glorious counterpart. 196 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. The rose that makes the summer fair, The velvet robe that sovereigns wear, The red revealment could not spare. And men who conquer deadly odds By fields of ice, and raging floods. Take the red passion from the gods. Now, Love is red, and Wisdom pale, But human hearts are faint and frail Till Love meets Love, and bids it hail. I see the chasm, yawning dread ; I see the flaming arch o'erhead : I stake my life upon the red. THE TEA-PARTY. 197 THE TEA-PARTY. I AM not with you, sisters, in your talk ; I sit not in your fancied judgment-seat : Not thus the sages in their council walk, Not in this wise the calm great spirits meet. My life has striven for broader scope than yours ; The daring of its failure and its fact Have taught how deadly difficult it is To suit the high endeavor with an act. I do not reel my satire by the yard, To flout the fronts of honorable men ; Nor, with poor cunning, underprize the heart Whose impulse is not open to my ken. 198 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Ah ! sisters, but your fro ward speech comes well To help the woman's standard, new-unfurled : In carpet council ye may win the day ; But keep your limits, — do not rule the world. What strife should come, what discord rule the times, Could but your pettish will assert its way ! No lengthened wars of reason, but a rage, Shown and repented twenty times a day. Ye're all my betters, — one in beauty more, And one in sharpness of the wit and tongue, And one in trim, decorous piety. And one with arts and graces ever young. But well I thank my father's sober house Where shallow judgment had no leave to be, And hurrying years, that, stripping much beside, Turned as they fled, and left me charity. MAID AND MISTRESS. 199 MAID AND MISTRESS. AN ECLOGUE. Lady Oltjipia, I'm so glad you've left The dreary villa for this pleasant home That lies in sight of every omnibus, And sends the winds that whistle as they pass To vent their spite elsewhere, — so stout it is. Here, too, are men to tramp the stairs for us, The sort of men that care for women's thanks. Your country louts, you know, are country-bred No mother-feeling, stirring at the heart. Sends them to help us at the wood or well. Then, so communicable with the shops ! The butcher comes, the baker also comes, And at a nod the grocer's boy is here ; 200 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. While from my cousin's uncle's brother's wife I hear of neighbors, and the folks at home. You sigh, dear lady ; for you loved your fields, And talked of Nature, which I never learned, Seeking the sunny corners all day long ; Or, sitting grand and graceful in the hall,- Kept still a blazing log to comfort you. While we went shivering up the garret stairs. Asking each night, " When will my lady move?" Ah ! mistress dear, I love your service well, And praise it with the honest bread I eat : But you're too easy with our sort of folk ; And that great cook, the red-faced, humbugs you. The man too — why, his eyes will dance with mirth When you receive his solemn tale of work. Looking such pity for his aching joints ; MAID AND MISTRESS. 201 He having sat beside tlie kitchen fire, And munched his victuals thankless, all the day. While we, poor womankind, have hauled the coals, And brought the water up, with straining backs. Till he has grown ashamed to meet our looks. And feigned a villanous sleep to shut them out. Well, well, you're snug within your chamber now. And I have company, and tieedful help, And beautiful oak-chips to light your fire ; And so the winter promises to pass : But, Dame Olympia, let me rule the cook. And keep her cousins from the larder shelf, All fond of her, and blest with appetite. And should that louting Thomas rouse himself, Never say, " Thomas, do not work so hard ; " For when you speak so, and I bid him wag, He'll answer, " Did you mind my mistress' words? I'm sitting here to help her care of me." 202 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Thus spake my favorite, petted by long love ; And I forgave that neighborhood of stars, And softest quarrel 'twixt the shore and sea, Which made my villa, where you've sat at meat With little splendor, worthy of a queen. THE MODERATE MAN. 203 THE MODERATE MAN. How shall the money flow into my pocket? Swift grow the fortunes of men, and their pride. Small my estate, though I labor to stock it, Left of my father, fourfold to divide. Money to dress these fair girls of mine finely, Catch a rich suitor, and rivet him fast ; Couches of silk to repose on supinely. Wooing the life-joys gone by with the past. Soon my young master asks horses to ease him, Saucy at college, at billiards most brave ; Endless devices shall plunder and please him. Youth must have follies, and parents can save. 204 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Nay, tlioii art pampered e'en now out of measure, Lackest no comfort through hunger or grief ; Dances and festivals bring needless pleasure, Seen to depart with a sigh of relief. See where my lost ones sit low in their mourning, Sunken the bosom, and hollow the cheek ; There may thy spirit find better adorning With the inheritance vowed to the meek. Seeking the boasting, the tinsel, the racket. Little thou learn'st Life's miraculous art : Let the gold rather flow out of thy pocket ; Then may the mercy flow into thy heart. WARNING. 205 WARNING. Power, reft of aspiration ; Passion, lacking inspiration ; Leisure, not of contemplation. Thus shall danger overcome thee, Fretted luxury consume thee. All divineness vanish from thee. Be a man, and be one wholly ; Keep one great love, purely, solely, Till it make thy nature holy ; That thy way be paved in whiteness, That thy heart may beat in lightness. That thy being end in brightness. 206 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE, CONTRASTS. I SHALL not come to the heavenly court As I enter your ball to-night, In tissues wreathed with flowery sport, And jewels of haughty light. Bearing on shoulders stiff and straight The marble of my face, Moving with high and measured gait To claim my yielded place. Poor narrow souls ! your easy spite Moves this enforced disdain : I cannot vanish from the fight Other than crowned or slain. CONTRASTS. 207 The russet garb of penitence For me were lighter wear Than all a queen's magnificence, A prince's minivere. Unloose, unloose your chains of pride, Set my vexed spirit free, That I may follow my angel guide In glad humility. For I would hearken the sentence deep. Abide the lifted rod. And sink, like a chastened child, to weep In the fatherhood of God. 208 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A VISION OF PALM SUNDAY. If I were a titled princess, this blessed Palm-Sunday morn, I'd not sit in this little carriage, with varnish and paint forlorn ; Nor wear this old cloak and bonnet, kept carefully for the day : There should be no best in my wardrobe ; I'd go in best things alway. And this Yankee should never drive me, this saucy son of the whip, Who sits in a cart on week-days, a leather belt on his hip; Nor this small horse of smaller breeding, that starts at each foolish fright : I'd borrow the Sun's proud coursers, and sweep through the streets like light. A VISION OF PALM SUNDAY. 209 This dust should not trouble my vision, nor smart in my tingling breast ; With dewy drops rosy scattered, the air itself should be blest ; And these people that stare so wanly from their win- dows empty of sky Should glow like a sun-touched landscape with the joy of my riding by. For you see, I myself should bless them ; no committee should scan their need : Fd visit their doleful dwellings, my help should be help indeed ; I'd bring them to true heart-wishes, not only to clothes and bread ; I'd pull down these toppling houses, and build pretty cots instead. And this were my April fooling, when they came from this morning's church, — In vain for their rags and cobwebs, and joyless beds, should they search : 14 210 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. All waving Avith snowy curtains their newly stained walls should be ; And their scores paid up at all dealers, such help should they claim from me. And these little pnes bare and ragged, that play with the Sunday's palms, They should answer with wide-mouthed wonder, I'd give them such golden alms ; And these crying babies some angel should touch with a waving bough. Till they smiled on their mothers' bosoms, where they hang so heavily now. But not such poor cheap-bought comforts, not blessings that come for pelf, — The dearest and costliest blessing, I'd carry it in my- self. My smile should be meed for heroes, my lips draw such tender breath. That a little strain of my music should comfort the pangs of death. A VISION OF PALM SUNDAY. 211 Such a heart I'd bear in my bosom, that, threading the crowded streets. My face should shed joy unlooked for on every poor soul one meets ; And such wisdom should crown my forehead, that, coming where counsels stand, I should carry the thoughts of justice, and stablish the weal of the land. The servants that waited on me should so prize the gracious task. No wage-gold should bring or bind them, my presence were all to ask ; And they who should leave my service, with sorrowful feet and slow Out-lengthening a dear remembrance, from my sight and sound should go. For a church I'd have such a temple as wonders the world in Rome, With a thousand sunny corners where angels might make their home : 212 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. I'd not have the prayers in Latin, and the doctrine far out of reach, But the homely to help the humble, like the Fisher of old should preach. For myself I would keep no gewgaws, no trumpery cloth of gold, No stick of a Stick in Waiting for gaping fools to behold : Friends should gather where'er I wandered, hearts should build me a blood-red throne ; *Tis with loving the world and with blessing I'd win it to be my own. Yet I'd keep the rich guerdon of beauty, and youth should but mellow down To a fuller, maturer feeling, that knowledge and duties crown ; And the tireless flow of spirits, with the sober delight of art, And some subtle, saintly secret, to hold from the world apart. A VISION OF PALM SUNDAY. 213 If thy wealth be loving and giving, the good God is over all To bless the world with thy blessing, — no prayer doth unheeded fall. Gather back thy joys in thy bosom this blessed Palm- Sunday morn. For we have the grace that we ask for ; thou'rt better than princess born. 214 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. JEALOUSY. Low in my bosom, aspic, thou must hide, Its best blood not too dainty for thy fang ; Such closeness saves me from the hell of pride, Should haughty conquerors know the deadly pau< No beggar takes thee home. In all men's eyes I have been crowned with glory in my time : Joy that made Envy cruel to a crime Has draped me in the sight of summer skies. And she who flouts me, fallen from my prime, Had been a spot upon my affluent noon That grasped the hill-tops, and the valleys drew To one accord of rapturous delight. JEALOUSY. 215 Ah me ! in love, December waits on June : We have not lost a gesture nor a tune, Before a rival revels in our right. Sting deep to death, that sex and soul be lost, That they, the happy, may turn cold with shame ; Love, to recall his geni of worthier cost ; And Hate, to find me perished ere she came. 216 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. WITHOUT AND WITHIN. Go away to the world's wild hubbub : I cannot go with thee ; For the deep home-anchors hold me From the waves of that yeasty sea, Where, the sun my fresh sail gilding, We once held company. If the vain and the silly bind thee, I cannot unlock thy chain ; If sin and the senses blind thee, Thyself must endure the pain ; If the arrows of conscience find thee. Thou must conquer thy peace again. WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 217 Here the line that runs between us Is narrow, but black as night : Faith sits passive this side the border, More happy, perhaps, than sight ; And I wring me slow drops of comfort Where once I drank swift delight. For I sit here with lovelorn Tasso ; With Dante, hooded and crowned ; While, further, the classic satyrs Beat the old Virgil ian ground ; And I hark for the Flaccian lyre, Till spirit comes back for sound. Here I sit with the scornful Roman Who tells his grim tale so cold Of the vanishing Southern nation. And the Northerns bright-haired and bold : Last year 'twas a breathless story. But now 'tis a tale oft told. 218 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. And the sons of Science around me Reach help from reserved hands : They have spread their net for the Godhood, And bound Him with close-wove bands, While He counts their small thoughts in His balance With minutes, and drops, and sands. I am here wdth the prophets whose warnings In the golden eternity fall ; I am here with the good Physician Who healeth both great and small ; I am here with the great soul-masters ; And sorrow, greater than all. THE VOICE OF THE CATARACT. 219 THE VOICE OF THE CATARACT. Canopied by trees, the Torrent Kages on her bed of stone ; She, so slim and staid last summer, To a monstrous madness grown. At her feet the fair Spray children, Tossing wide their snowy locks, Cushion soft her frantic movements From the roughness of the rocks. What doth ail thee, hoary Princess, Tossing on thy bed of pain. While the ruddy trees above thee Drop unceasing tears of rain ? 220 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Fain to loose thy pallid tresses, Fain thy garments wild to tear, — Like a passion, ever moving ; Like a sorrow, ever there. Was the summer wind thine Essex ? Did some treacherous blossom-pile Keep his last sigh from thy bosom, From his sight thy pardoning smile ? " Oh the bitter frost of winter ! Oh the false delight of spring ! He whose heart knows no betrayal Skills not of the sonsj I sinor." THE EVENING RIDE. 221 THE EVENING RIDE. Through purple clouds with golden crests I go to find my lover ; Hid from my sight this many a year, My heart must him discover : I know the lair of the timid hare, The nest of the startled plover. O Earth ! of all thy garlands keep The fairest for our meeting : Could we ask music, 'twere to drown The heart's tumultuous beating. That only eyes, in glad surprise. Might look through tears their greeting. 222 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. If Time have writ my beauty out, I have no charm to blind him ; No snare to catch his doubting soul, Nor vow exchanged to bind him ; But this I keep, that I must weep Bitterly when I find him. NIGHT-MUSINGS. 223 NIGHT^MUSINGS. I WALK the lonely roof's at night, The roof-tree creaking as I go ; A farthing taper gives me light, And monstrous darkness sits below. What spell is in these feet of mine That binds them so to beat the air ? What tears are in my blood, or wine. That will not yield to sleep or prayer ? Ah me ! the day brought sleep enough ; Its humming pulses drowsed my soul ; My ways were spun of funeral stuff. And every meal was death and dole. 224 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Btit now my measured footstep seems A chariot, drawn by burning doves ; Or now my fancy climbs in dreams A ladder of transfiojured loves. Or now I stand as Jacob stood, Matched hand to hand, and knee to knee Thou unknown Fate, declare thy good ! Answer, and I will set thee free. And now I walk a garden bed. Whose flowers contend with fervent airs ; And each fair bell that lifts its head A look of loved remembrance wears. Or, last, I sit in some strange isle, Unsexed by Age and Wisdom's might, And make a pictured parchment smile With words illegible for lio:ht. NIGHT-MUSINGS. 225 A slip, a shock, a distant tone ! The world's pale watchman crying woe ; I spin my thread of light alone. And Darkness whets its shears below. 15 226 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. SUMMER NIGHT. In the lovely summer m'ght, Softest music breathes around me, Softest memories have bound me, In the lovely summer night. A Star doth send his light, — A blazing diamond, pearl beset. The brightest where the bright are met, In the lovely summer night. In the lovely summer night, — Walking with beloved shadows O'er the star-lit heaths and meadows In the lovely summer night. SUMMER NIGHT. 227 In tlic lovely summer night, Sliarp-eclged Sorrow waits to seize me ; Death, from sorrow to release me In the lovely summer night. 228 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. EEOS HAS WARNING. Shut here thy burning gospel ; Thou and I must part, O Love ! Keep ambush for youth's gay spirits To bear in thy car above ; Leave me slow to tread the earth-ball, Who languidly live and move. Wait not with thy wings where I issue In the winter's cold and frost, To carry me swift through the snow-drift, And the heavens, cloud-embossed : I will take me a humbler airing, Will travel at lowlier cost. EROS HAS WARNING. 229 Thou foe of the task and the fireside, Thou foe of the placid brow, Thou tyrant of gentlest bosoms. Seek other dominion now ! For my years lie counted before me ; I must work to redeem a vow. When thou passest, all in thy glory, With thy rosy-bosomed crew ; When thy Pa^an loud resoundeth, And the World is crowned anew, — I'll not join the frantic strophe, I'll not sinsr "lo" too. A web of peace and of science Hangs gathering in my loom, And I work after thoughts of wisdom That blot out our human doom ; And the garb I have wrapped around me I shall carry it to the tomb. 230 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. So here I acknowledge, master, Thy magical law and spell ; Oh ! deeper than thought can fathom. Oh ! greater than words can tell ; Let us part from our hands' long clasping, And solemnly bid farewell. EROS DEPARTS. 231 EROS DEPARTS. Love that wert my being, Love that passest death, Am I here without thee, Breathing human breath ? Moving, not to meet thee On this summer morn? While the Earth, new-cinctured, Blyth and bloom adorn? Wliile the deep-hung branches, Trailing, sweep the ground, And the droning beetle Spinneth round for round, 232 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. And the light, Avave-broken, Shimmers on the sea, Do I sit here, waiting Nevermore for thee ? But for thee my fancy Chose these garments white, Wove the tufted roses But for thy delight ; But for thee this diamond, Darling of the mine. Glistens in the ear-drop Like a tear of thine, — Like a tear, that, welling From thy happy breast, Where thy vows were whispered, Waiteth to be blest. Beasts in yonder meadow Lightly choose a mate. Missing, scarce a day's length Wonder they, and wait ; EROS DEPARTS. But the ewe lamb's mother Bleateth long and sore ; Thrush, in yonder covert, Sorroweth evermore ; Choking with a spasm In her silver strain, " Dear delight of summer, Come again, again ! " Not that thou shouldst leave me, — Thou, ethereal born ; But that I survive thee, — That is grief and scorn. Poor in form and stature, Pale and dull of hue. By thy creed of beauty Towards thy wish I grew. Fought with Time and Nature, Conquered bitter pain. Keeping thievish footsteps From thy dear domain. 233 234 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. From that task cleliglitsome, Grief-absolved I lie ; Free to pine and perish, Love, since thou canst die. While the trees, like mourners, Bear my azure pall. Let the whirlwind scatter, Let the ashes fall, Striving towards no heaven Dim and distant far : Only Avhere thou dwellest The Immortals are. SIMPLE TALES. 235 SIMPLE TALES. I. What are tliey bringing to this grave, O Sexton pale and old? What blossom white, or blasted root, Must underlie this mould ? Hark to the bell ! — I cannot tell : We dig the grave, and ring the knell. If you must ask — that married pair. That move so stiff and sad, With snow-flakes thickening in their hair, In new-dyed sables clad ; The kerchief busy at their eyes, That way, methinks, the burthen lies. 236 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. In yonder moss-clad church, their pew Showed once a gracious child, A laughing imp of rosy hue In glee and mischief wild. To manhood grown, he went away, Returninor in an evil dav. " Ho, rascals ! " cries he, " take my beast ; Haste there, and let me in ; My father keeps a sorry feast. My mother's sour and thin. I've come to change their ways a bit ; Fetch brandy, fill a bumper fit ! Squire, I have debts in yonder town ; I fling the careless card ; My tradesmen press their bills, and frown ; My creditors are hard. This world is not a mother's breast. No cradle, for a babe to rest." SIMPLE TALES. 237 The mother scans him iu the light Of the oriel deep and wide. Where are those curls and dimples bright, The cheek, her blushing pride? Whose touch could smooth that tangled hair, Now knotted, like a snaky snare ? Nor this the worst : the bloodshot eye ; The voice of scoffing tone ; The lips unsteady, that defy The pleading of her own. In grief she struggles and sinks down : He answers with a sullen frown. The unwilling gold is quickly brought, And, silent, counted out ; The seeker has the boon he sought. And flushing turns about. The mother speaks not to deplore ; The father whispers, " Come no more. 238 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE, Your sister's portion here you take, Your mother's jointure too : Though all were beggared for your sake, It would not furnish you." " Oh ! take it all," the mother cries, And follows him with streaming eyes. I know this only, since that time A year or so has past. But seeds of misery and crime Ripen unearthly fast. The Hall's entailed, that cannot go ; But there they keep with little show. And when I heard, three days agone, A young man at the inn Had, desperate, shut himself alone, And died the death of sin, I said, " The Squire has lost his son ; Wife, there's a grave must be begun." SIMPLE TALES. 239 How came this ? through some hidden vein Of wildness in the blood, That penitence and deadly pain Could turn him not to good : So, when his drunken fury went. He might not bear his ill-content. Old man with burning eyes and hair Like ashes over flame, Look not too sternly on the heir Of deeper than thy name : Thy fiery youth, its guilt, its gains, Ran their traditions in his veins. Nor wanted he an angel friend ; Still in his clouded eyes. With hope and promise run to end, His mother's look would rise, So prayer might bless his parting breath, And faith, long banished, come in death. 240 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE II. He loved her long through grief and pain, As long she loved another. Life v^ras to him her sole domain ; He was to her a brother. When well of love he m-ged and spake, Tears on her eyelids glistened ; The heart his wooing strove to wake Forsook him while she listened. Thus in a mutual twofold search Each deeper led the other. She was his wealth, his law, his church ; He was to her a brother. SIMPLE TALES. 241 God took liim in his early years, Ere half his youth had flowered. Then she beheld him through her tears "With the heart's saints embowered. Time on her heart's high daring smiled, A blooming bridal made her, And, clinging to a three-hours' child, In the low furrow laid her. But to my sight doth crowned appear Each faithful, fond endeavor : Ralph called her his, one happy year ; And Herbert, his forever. 16 242 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. THE ROSE IN THE JOURNAL. Rose, whose matchless beauty Poets love to praise, Bind the day that brought him To the other days ; To the homely duties ; To the things that are, Like dark weights of nature Linked to sun and star. Then the curtain lifted Of the tent so gray Showed him fresh and blooming As careering Day, Ere his steeds are wearied With the noontide heat, Ere the lengthening shadows Press his loiterin^j feet. THE ROSE IN THE JOURNAL, 243 Like an Angel's garment Caught in fluttering grasp ; Like a kingly jewel Set in costliest clasp ; Like a sudden vision Of the joys that were. When the shadows darken And the end draws near, — Thus among my treasures, Rosebud, thou shalt lie. With thy beauty withering Only to the eye. Roses grow immortal On the brow of Fame ; These, with all best glories, Deathless keep thy name. 244 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE, A DEEAM OF DISTANCE. Coldly sunk, as the pearl in the wave, Is the love I have borne to thee : Over its stillness the waters lave Darkly, silently, heavily. All the chances under the sun Scarce can give that the sunken pearl See the light of the star she loves, Lifted out of the water's whirl. Of all the chances under the sun, For that one I'll ne'er seek nor pray : Let me lie where the tides move on ; Thou, bright Lucifer, keep thy Avay ! A DREAM OF DISTANCE. 245 For the mystical pulse of life Holds in sympathy divine Things apart, like the star and pearl ; Things akin, like thy soul and mine. 246 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. FAME AND FRIENDSHIP. The world doth name tliee now, and idle men Exalt their critic skill in praising, thee : At all their words my heart doth bound again ; And praise begetteth praise, as this should be. Yet I remember with a jealous love What time thine unmined wealth lay less in view ; And I was fain the envious clods to move, And point the hidden diamonds clear as dew. Methought men's souls, unquestioning of art, Were then as void of pulse as stock or stone ; Yet, gathering all thy glories in my heart. My slender trump uplifted them alone. FAME AND FRIENDSHIP. 247 So, when the arena rings with plaudits loud, Hear my heart's Avhisper through the noisy throng ; And let thy fancies, running o'er the crowd. Pause where the rites of gratitude belong. For I have been a mother to thy fame, Coaxing with gentle touch the grasp of Fate ; Till, holding high the blazon of thy name, I cried to all the world, '•^ He shall he great!" 248 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A WOMAN'S PRAYER. Father of great mercy ! hear me mildly : One I love is tried and hindered sore ; For the harro^YS of temptation wildly Tear his green and blooming purpose o'er. Send thine angels, as the Spring her beauties Rains on thorny branches wild and sear, Lighting up Life's worn and wintry duties "With the glories they were made to bear. Send them in the panoply of heaven Like a cohort sheathed in burnished gold ; Send them thick as falling dews of even With soft arms to shelter and infold. A WOMAN'S PRAYER. 249 Send them, while I coin my life as ransom For the holy triumph they must win ; Take the uncounted pulses of my bosom ; Keep the thing I love from deadly sin. SloAv the answer gathers, " Stay thy pleading ; From his birth my help around him lies : He, the angel in his breast unheeding, Should escape the legions of the skies." 250 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. THE LAST BIRD. Little Bird that siugest Far atop this warm December day, Heaven bestead thee, that thou wiugest, Ere the welcome song is done, thy way To more certain weather, "Where, built high and solemnly, the skies, Shaken by no storm together. Fixed in vaults of steadfast sapphire rise ! There the smile that mocks us Answers with its warm serenity ; There the prison-ice that locks us Melts forgotten in a purple sea. THE LAST BIRD. 251 There thy tuneful brothers, In the palm's green plumage waiting long, Mate them with the myriad others. Like a broken rainbow bound with sons:. Winter scarce is hidden. Veiled within this fair, deceitful sky : Fly, ere, from his ambush bidden, He descend in ruin swift and nigh ! By the Summer stately, Truant, thou wast fondly reared and bred ; Dost thou linger here so lately. Knowing not thy beauteous friend is dead,- Like to hearts, that, clinging Fervent where their first delight was fed. Move us with untimely singing Of the hopes whose blossom-time is sped ? 252 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Beauties have their hour, Safely perched on the spring-budding tree : For the ripened soul is trust and power, And beyond, the calm eternity. FAREWELL TO HAVANA. 253 FAREWELL TO HAVANA. My siglit is blank, my heart is lorn ; My tropic trance of joy I mourn, — That stolen summer of delight, Dreamed on the breast of wintry night, When sad, true souls abide the North, And we, love-truants, issued forth To find, with steady sail unfurled. The glowing centre of the world. The glorious sights went fleeting by ; I had no hold on earth or sky : Two little hands, one helpless heart, Could claim and keep so small a part. A shadow of the stately palm ; A burnish of the noontide calm ; 254 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A dream of faces new and strange, Darkened and lit with sudden change ; A joy of flowers unearthly fair In giant Nature's tangled hair ; A joy of fruits of other hue And savor than my childhood knew ; A sorrow, as the vista grew, Longer and lesser, cherished too ; A pang of parting, heart-bereft Of all I had, — is all I've left. To cheer my journey what remains Towards the rude heights where Winter reigns ? What love-nui'sed thought shall shield my breast Warmer than cloak or sable vest? One hope serene all comfort brings, — Who made thy bonds did lend thy wings ; Who sends thee from this faery reign Once brought thee here, and may again. A WILD NIGHT. 255 A WILD NIGHT. The storm is sweeping o'er the land, And raging o'er the sea : It urgeth sharp and dismal sounds, The Psalm of Misery. The straining of the cordage now. The creaking of a spar. The deep dumb shock the vessel feels When billows strike and jar, — It breathes of distant seamen's hearts That think upon their wives ; Of wretches clinging to the mast, And wrestlinsr for their lives. 256 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. The clouds are flying through the sky Like spectres of affright : Yon pale witch moon doth blast them all With bleared and ghastly light. Great Demons flutter through the dark Flame touched, with dusky wing ; And Passion crouches out of sight Like a forbidden thinjr. The blast doth scourge the forest through, Great oaks, and bushes small ; And God, the fable of the fools. Looks silently on all. Oh ! if He watches, as I knoAv, Safe let ITIm keep our rest, And give my little ones and me The shelter of His breast. A WILD NIGHT. 257 No harm shall come on earth, we trust ; But, if mischance must be. Most let him help those weary souls That struggle with the sea ! 17 258 P0EM8 OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. BABY'S SHOES. " And it came to pass, that as we ascended the stau-, at bedtime, we encountered the baby's shoes, which the mother kissed, and put in her bosom." Little feet, pretty feet, Feet of fairy Maud, Fair and fleet, trim and neat, Carry her abroad ! Be as wings, tiny things, To my butterfly : In the flowers, hours on hours, Let my darling lie. Shine ye must, in the dust, Twinkle as she runs. Threading a necklace gay Throui!:h the summer suns. BABY'S SHOES. 259 Stringing clays, borrowing phi'ase, Weaving wondrous plots, With her eyes blue and wise As forget-me-nots. Like a charm which doth arm Some poor mother's pain For the child dream-beguiled She shall know again, ■ By the pet amulet Kept through lonely years ; Little shoe, I and you Would not part for tears. Cinder el groAvn a belle, Coming from her ball, Frightened much, let just such A tiny slipper fall. 182 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. I've seen tliem when that church was thronged with pageants grand and gay ; When royal rank, and worldly fame, and beauty there held sway : The columns wavered in the smoke, the banners hung aloof. And the golden song effaced from mind the glories of the roof. My soul was drunk with harmony, my senses swam and reeled : It may be, when the trump did sound, that down I sank and kneeled ; Yet thought I, when I marked those men in cuirass and in sword, " How little is the Vicar's state remindful of his Lord! No need to keep the people from his mild and harm- less way ; They touched his garments for relief, and were not warned away ; rEliUUIA. 183 And, Avhen his hour of danger came, he put defence to shame, Commanding, ' Sheathe again thy sword, or perish by the same ! ' " They came to old Perugia, that helmed and jerkiued pack ; They came with murder in their lu-arts, and armor at their back ; They shot the men about the streets, the women at their fire. The infant at its mother's knee, child, wife, and aged sire. The streets ran blood : in every house some ghastly corpse was seen. The passing traveller saved his lile by a forgotten screen ; And, when the fiends have done their work, to Rome they take their way ; The Pope doth welcome them again, and gladly counts their pay. 262 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. And where is the place of the Lovely One, — The happy place of the Lovely One ? On mother's knee High throneth he ; And her heart is the home of the Lovely One. THE BABE'S LESSON. 263 THE BAEE'S LESSON. I WAS saying "Ave, ave," Over a lost delight, When Baby, scarce five moonlights old, Looked up with wondering sight. Then his untutored organ Caught up the tragic tone, And with my spent sigh blended soft A music of its own. I was weary of my burthen, Desiring not to be ; When thus unto my thoughts discoursed The babe upon my knee : "Why, mother, sighing ever? What boots thy cherished woe ? What matter through the mighty sea If sweet or bitter flow? 264 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Behold thy gallant champion, New lighted from the skies ! Strong arm and Avord, and heart of cheer, Are in him, blossom-wise. A man, and he who wrongs me Escapes his lesson not ; But who should grieve my mother's heart Must dearly pay the scot. Then wait, thou silly mother. The days till I am grown : Thou knowest a many heart like thine Doth keep its watch alone. Set up Prayer's golden ladder That brings the heaven-sent joy ; And with sweet hope and patient faith Nourish thy tender boy." "I will, I will, my dearest, Else 'twere uublest to live ; The heaven is wide above our head, And God is free to give. THE BABE'S LESSON. 265 But I was not weeping, baby, Nor raising a hand of might ; I was only saying Ave Over a lost delight." 266 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. SERVANT TO A WOODEN CRADLE.' Come, visit the flowers, thy cousins, God's dear little lamb, and mine ! See where, lit by one flaming crystal. The gems of the greenhouse shine ! The leaves of this rose thou shalt scatter With the strength of thine infant will : Thou hast ravished the form of the flower, See ! the heart keeps its sweetness still. The flowers have a dark, sad mother, Whose bosom is bare to view ; So they haste, in their springtide beauty, To clothe her worn heart anew. "SERVANT TO A WOODEN CRADLE." 267 They perish ; but she endureth, To faint in the Winter's scorn, With a life-warmth buried within her Through which other Springs are born. As the shadows dance hither and thither, The gleams of thy consciousness pass. As a lamp wakes it^ fitful glimmer In the heart of a sleeping glass. The shrouded ghost of the future Stands near, while I hold thee fast ; And the traits of my race turn slowly My thoughts to the long-linked past. O Future ! what sorrows gather In the folds of thy hanging veil ? Past, shalt thou flower further In passions comprest and pale? O thou who art past and future, Thou Present of life and soul ! We lift our sad eyes to thy features, Our thoughts to thy great control. 268 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Thy manhood lies crouching within thee, For the leap of its coming years ; Thy heart takes its long vibration From the mother's fountain of tears ; The helpful things and the hurtful Weave round thee their w^aiting spell : Oh ! look to the God that commands them, And all shall be suffered well. THE UNWELCOME MESSAGE. 269 THE UNWELCOME MESSAGE. A DISMAL Postman passes by, — I fear his sullen knock : 'Twill strike a shiver through the door, And paralyze the lock. "Plague not this unoffending house It owes no shameful debt ; Nor guilty chamber doth it hide Where evil guests are met. Here gentle heart and gentle blood Their life-surroundings bless ; And days glide by with happy toil, And measured thankfulness. 270 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. The messengers who enter here Are glad and bright of eye, Freighted with precious words that stir Responsive minstrelsy." " The note is brief, the seal is sharp, The characters are pale : I cannot err in their address ; My letters never fail. If you the door will not unbar, The window answers well, Less lofty than the turret where I touch the passing bell. When you have read, the feast may speed. The business, as you list : But, somehow, where my foot has stept, The joy of joys is missed ; TEE UNWELCOME MESSAGE. 271 And on the heart of working week A Sabbath falls of rest, Unwished ; yet He who sends me here Declares his errand blest." 272 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. MY CRUCIFIX. Baby sweet is dying, — he is dying. Place the crucifix above his head ; It conveys a sympathetic sighing, Tears of kindred with the tears we shed. For no succor from this head anointed Do I b^ing its sorrow near his pain : Death must come where dying is appointed ; But this dead one saith, " I live again." Well I deem some virtue must be hidden In the hero heart that would not die : By those firm lips. Baby shall be bidden To take hope, and live immortally. A WINTER THOUGHT. 273 A wintp:ii thought. The flower of my love is sleeping, Locked in his icy funeral mound : The Frost, stern sentinel, is keeping Earth's tranced blossoms under ground. The Spring shall bring the sweet appearing Of buds, her radiant breath shall free ; But my heart blossom, most endearing, Shall rest, a flower of Memory. A sterner sentinel is waiting Our ban of severance to remove : Death must resolve our separation, Chill Herald of the Spring of Love. 18 274 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. SPRING-BLOSSOMS. The little daisies, two by two, The lilies wet with frosted dew, The sweet procession of the Spring Carries my baby's offering. I leave the thoughts that take his place, Imaginations winged in space, And fold his shadow to my breast, With the dear lips that mine have prest. Ever my introverted eyes Recover that past paradise ; Not without hell pain shuddered through Where life declined, to rise anew. SPEIJVG-BL0SS03IS. 275 Oh ! to my darling carry this, The old-time phrase, the frequent kiss ; Remind him how, in his decay, My life's enamel melts away. Tell him my time must also come To enter his restricted home, Where my soul furniture shall be His lovely immortality. 276 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. REMEMBRANCE. There was a time when thy dear face to me Was but a dream, with nameless pangs between. Three happy years upheld the fatal screen Whose fall left blank and bitterness for thee. As one who at a gracious drama sits, And builds long vistas in its magic ways, " For this must come, and this ; " and while he stays The end consigns him to the silent streets : So did I stand when thy sweet play was done, Wondering what spell the curtain still should hide, Waiting and weeping, till my saintly guide Took by the hand, and pitying said, " Pass on." REMEMBRANCE. . 277 So thou art hid again, and wilt not come For any knocking at the veiled door ; Nor mother-pangs, nor nature, can restore The heart's delight and blossom of thy home. And I with others, in the outer court, Must sadly follow the excluding will, In painful admiration of the skill Of God, who speaks his sweetest sentence short. 278 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. LITTLE ONE. My dearest boy, my sweetest ! For paradise the meetest ; The child that never grieves me, The love that never leaves me ; The lamb by Jesu tended ; The shadow, star befriended ; In Winter's woe and straining, The blossom still remaining. Days must not find me sitting Where shadows dim are flitting Across the grassy measure That hides my buried treasure, Nor bent with tears and sighing, More prone than thy down-lying : LITTLE ONE. 279 I have a freight to carry, A goal, — I must not tarry. If men would garlands give me, If steadfast hearts receive me. Their homage I'd surrender For one embrace most tender ; One kiss, with sorrow in it, To hold thee but one minute. One word, our tie recalling, Beyond the gulf appalling. Since God's device doth take thee, My fretting should forsake thee ; For many a mother borrows Her comfort from the sorrows Her vanished darling misses. Transferred to heavenly blisses. But I must ever miss thee. Must ever call and kiss thee. With thy sweet phantom near me, And only God to hear me. 280 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. The pomp willi wliicli I mourn thee, I who have proudly borne thee, Is not of weary sables, Nor unsubstantial fables ; While thou, in white apparel, And crowned, above my laurel, Passest from my discerning To more transcendent learning. When thou wert taken from me, Did better art become me, And painful satisfaction Wrung from some noblest action. I mourn in simpler praying. More work and less delaying, In hope enforced that mellows The crudeness of thy fellows, Who, past thy lovely season, Attempt the wars of Reason ; I mourn thee with endeavor That loves and "rrieves forever. ' CHOPIN. 281 CHOPIN. We saw him in the death-nest laid ; His wings were folded, sad and still ; The glowing tropic of his breast Endured no more Life's winter chill. But now, through Fancy's clouded gate, He walks with Nature's spirit-kings ; The sceptre in his palsied hands Strikes rapture at her deepest springs. His life was like an opal gem That breaks in many a painful thrill : The risen rainbow of his soul The heaven of song is spanning still ; 282 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. While happy Love and Grief sublime Unite their emblems on his brow, And pave with zeal his shadowy court, — A Lover once, a Master now. HAMLET AT THE BOSTON. 283 HAMLET AT THE BOSTON. We sit before the row of evening lamps, Each in his chair, Forgetful of November dews and damps, And wintry air. A little gulf of music intervenes, A bridge of sighs, Where still the cunning of the curtain screens Art's paradise. My thought transcends these viols' shrill delight, The booming bass. And, towards the regions we shall view to-night, Makes hurried pace. 284 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. The painted castle, and the unneeded guard That ready stand ; The harmless Ghost, that walks with helm unbarred And beckoninof hand. And beautiful as dreams of maidenhood, That doubt defy, Young Hamlet, with his forehead grief-subdued, And visioning eye. O fair dead world, that from thy grave awak'st A little while, And in our heart strange revolution mak'st With thy brief smile ! O beauties vanished, fair lips magical. Heroic braves ! O mighty hearts, that held the world in thrall ! Come from your graves ! HAMLET AT THE BOSTON. 285 The poet sees you through a mist of tears, — Such depths divide Ilim, with the love and passion of his years, From you, inside ! The poet's heart attends your buskined feet, Your lofty strains, Till earth's rude touch dissolves that madness sweet, And life remains : Life that is something while the senses heed The spirit's call ; Life that is nothing when our grosser need Ingulfs it all. And thou, young hero of this mimic scene. In whose high breast A genius greater than thy life hath been Strangely comprest ! 286 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Wear St tlioa those glories draped about thy soul Thou dost present? And art thou by their feeling and control Thus eloquent? 'Tis with no feigned power thou bind'st our sense, No shallow art ; Sure, lavish Nature gave thee heritance Of Hamlet's heart ! Thou dost control our fancies with a might So wild, so fond, We quan-el, passed thy circle of delight, With things beyond ; Returning to the pillows rough with care, And vulgar food, Sad from the breath of that diviuer air, That loftier mood. HAMLET AT THE BOSTON. 287 And there we leave thee, in thy misty tent Watching alone ; While foes about thee gather imminent, To us scarce known. Oh, when the lights are quenched, the music hushed, The plaudits still. Heaven keep the fountain, whence the fair stream gushed. From choking ill ! Let Shakspeare's soul, that wins the^ world from wrong. For thee avail, And not one holy maxim of his song Before thee fail ! So get thee to thy couch as unreproved As heroes blest ; And all good angels, trusted in and loved, Attend thy rest ! 288 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. IN MY VALLEY From the hurried city fleeing, From the dusty men and ways, In my golden sheltered valley, Count I yet some sunny days. Golden, for the ripened Autumn Kindles there its yellow blaze ; And the fiery sunshine haunts it Like a ghost of summer days. Walking where the running water Twines its silvery caprice, Treading soft the leaf-spread carpet, I encounter thoughts like these : — IN MY VALLEY. 289 " Keep but heart, and healthful courage, Keep the ship against the sea, Thou shalt pass the dangerous quicksands That insnare Futurity ; Thou shalt live for song and story, For the service of the pen ; Shalt survive till children's children Bring thee mother-joys again. Thou hast many years to gather ; And these falling years shall bring The benignant fruits of Autumn, Answering to the hopes of Spring. Passing where the shades that darkened Grow transfigured to thy mind. Thou shalt go with soul untroubled To the mysteries behind ; 19 290 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Pass unmoved the silent portal Where beatitude begins, With an equal balance bearing Thy misfortunes and thy sins." Treadinoj soft the leaf-spread carpet, Thus the Spirits talked with me ; And I left my valley, musing On their gracious prophecy. To my fiery youtn's ambition Such a boon were scarcely dear : " Thou shalt live to be a grandame, Work and die, devoid of fear." " Now, as utmost grace it steads me, Add but this thereto," I said : " On the Matron's time-worn mantle Let the Poet's wreath be laid." ENDEA VOR. 291 ENDEAVOR. '' What bast thou for thy scattered seed, O Sower of the plain ? Where are the many gathered sheaves Thy hope should bring again ? " " The only record of my work Lies in the buried grain." " Conqueror of a thousand fields ! In dinted armor dight, What growths of purple amaranth Shall crown thy brow of might?" " Only the blossom of my life Flung widely in the fight." 292 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. "What is the harvest of thy saints, O God ! Avho clost abide ? Where grow the garhmds of thy chiefs In blood and sorrow dyed ? What have thy servants for their pains ? ' " This only, — to have tried." MEDITATION. 293 MEDITATION. Whether the aim I keep is right, So far removed from sense and sight, While half the goods that mortals prize Lie hidden from my dream-bound eyes, And others watch with subtler skill To please the toy-bent human will ? For this one passions with her glance ; And this one weaves her swift romance ; And this in steadfast marble leaves The passing bloom the moment gives ; And this one mints the golden coin. Attendant on each glad design, And in her state well pleased doth ride Through streets that saw the Tarquin's pride ; 294 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. While I plod cheerless after thee, Thou unattained Philosophy. For me no crowd admiring waits, Nor lettered venture tempts the Fates, Nor hangs my work on princely walls. Nor title proud my merit calls, Nor I and marble shall be Aved Except above my funeral bed. Only my diagrams I know ; And even these make greater show Than thou, O mistress ! dost allow. Pent inward by a silent vow. But this I boast, — a simpler need, That leaves untrammelled time to read The sentence of a loftier book Than aught that Gain and Rumor brook The thrifty urging of tlie morn That waits on nations newly born, Bestowing promise more divine Than checkered gold at day's decline ; MEDITATION. 295 Faith that permits and passes growth, Embracing God and Nature both. The rainbow helps us from the storm ; But skies serene are uniform. Though colored gems be fair, the white Doth keep the undivided light. The garden shows its radiant prism. The lily hides her golden chrism. And Truth and Peace are goods sincere That fix the source of comforts near. 296 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. MEDITATION. II. Sublime and poor the bards of old Their heavenly message heard and told, Sequestered from the human crowd, Who heed but warnings large and loud. Nor velvet robe the prophet had. In homely garments bound and clad ; Nor dainty table gave them seat Who with the gods might take their meat. But Jesus poorest was of all ; Tended with oxen in the stall ; From narrow bounds of household rule Devising his immortal school ; MEDITATION. 297 While mother's toil and father's thrift His weighty problems did uplift ; And this one's work, and that one's wine, Were moulded into types divine. The needy fishers were his friends, Unlearned companions in his ends ; And stripe, and shame, and felon tree Aided his deathless victory. So, Soul, be steadfast in thy lot, In marble shade or rustic cot : Permit the wealth the Fates bestow, But in its void no pining know. The richest human treasury. The mine of thought, to all is free. Let Pleasure mix her shallow drink While twines Desert the iron link Whose firmness, over time and space, Transmits the virtue of the race. 298 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Thongli fortunes fail, and prospects frown, May Duty keep lier matchless crown, Nor Desolation bid depart The glories of a guileless heart. THE HOUSE OF REST. 299 THE HOUSE OF REST. I WILL build a house of rest, Square the corners every one : At each angle on his breast Shall a cherub take the sun ; Rising, risen, sinking, down, Weaving day's unequal crown. In the chambers, light as air. Shall responsive footsteps fall : Brother, sister, art thou there ? Hush ! we need not jar nor call Need not turn to seek the face Shut in rapture's hiding-place. 300 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Heavy load and mocking care Shall from back and bosom part ; Thought shall reach the thrill of prayer, Patience plan the dome of art. None shall praise or merit claim, Not a joy be called by name. With a free, unmeasured tread Shall we pace the cloisters through : Rest, enfranchised, like the Dead ; Rest till Love be born anew. Weary Thought shall take his time, Free of task-work, loosed from rhyme. No reproof shall grieve or chill ; Every sin doth stand confest ; None need murmur, " This was ill : " Therefore do they grant us rest ; Contemplation making whole Every ruin of the soul. THE HOUSE OF REST. 301 Pictures shall as softly look As in distance shows delight ; Slowly shall each saintly book Turn its pages in our sight ; Not the study's wealth confuse, Urging zeal to pale abuse. Children through the windows peep, Not reproachful, though our own ; Hushed the parent passion deep. And the household's eager tone. One above, divine and true, Makes us children like to you. Measured bread shall build us up At the hospitable board ; In Contentment's golden cup Is the guileless liquor poured. May the beggar pledge the king In that spirit gathering. 302 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Oh ! my house is far away ; Yet it sometimes shuts me in. Imperfection mars each day While the perfect works begin. In the house of labor best Can I build the house of rest. A VISIT TO a H. 303 A VISIT TO C. H. Let lis sit with you, sister, before the low fire. The scanty rag-carpet sufficing our feet : You cannot command, and we need not require. The Avindow well shaded and soft-cushioned seat. The children of pride scarcely come to your door. And we who have entered walk not in their Avays ; But experience brings to the rich and the poor One value abiding in life's changeful days. You are homely in breeding ? Some one of your race Had a spark of high blood, to immortals akin : You are loath to be seen in this desolate place ? What honor may lack where the Muse is within ? 304 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A presence I feel in the God-lightened air, The spell of the art I have followed so long : In your calico garment and rough-twisted hair Let us speak of your queendom, poor sister of song. For, well may we know it, the tap that you hear, When you lay down the needle, and take up the pen, Ts the summons august that the highest revere, The greatest that visits the children of men. The fountain of song in your bosom arose When the small baby pillow was tenantless left? You share with all mortals life's burthen of woes ; But all have not music, when grieved and bereft. You dream o er the wash-tub, strive vainly to fix Your thought on the small household matter in hand? Some spices, no doubt, in your condiments mix. Some flavors your neighbors can scarcely command. A VISIT TO a. u. 305 The world is so hard, and the Avorld is so cold ? And the dear-bought deliverance comes scanty and slow? Say, whether is better, — its frosts to behold, Or to share its heart winter, and shed no more glow ? I have found a rich blossom astray on the heath ; In sordid surroundings, an altar of love ; Or lashed in a cart, beyond beauty and breath. The steed that should carry the bidding of Jove. The town that hums near us has rich folk, besurc, — Its man of the Congress, its Mayor with his slate, Its lords of the spindle who pillage the poor. Its pampered young people who quarrel and mate. But not for their scanning I come here to-day ; The rich and the proud are forever the same : My feet, poet sister, have found out this Avay, Unsought and unsummoned, your kinship to claim. 20 306 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. A LEAF FROM THE BRYANT CHAPLET. Friends who greet the crowned Poet, who detain the passing year With the love that knows no passing, I attend your summons here. Had ye suffered me in silence, I had thanked your courteous grace ; Happier yet, in rites so cordial, to have utterance and place. In your city rows palatial has a mansion stood apart, Not in aspect nor pretension, single in its saintly heart : Wlien the tides of greed and traffic swept the limits of the town, 'Twas a citadel of virtue, and a shrine of pure renown. LEAF FROM THE BRYANT CHAP LET. 307 There the Muse that knew Anacreon, that made Roman Horace great, Shunning Caasar's jewelled favors, at the modest fire- side sate. Lit the wintry coals with splendor, turned the deep historic page, Held the burning lamp of Fancy to the problems of the age. When the great ideas came singly to the crowded market-place, Looking wanly for a welcome in each money-getting face. And the high police of fashion urged the vagrants to give room. They, our Chief of song encountering, grew speedily at home. He had many a measure for us : at his forge he wrought twofold, On the iron shield of Freedom, and the poet's links of gold. 308 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. All the while a song was singing, others better knew than he ; For the even stanzas of his life made subtlest melody. He was a veteran leader ere his forehead gained its snow^s ; And still before the pilgrim flock his silver summons goes. No wild and desert waste he brings, with lurid day and night, But pastures of serenity, and founts of clear de- light. We have journeyed far to praise him ; let us also praise the hour For the travail throes of Conscience, and the newest birth of power ; Let us praise the faultless victims, and the living, who have bent O'er the wealth of nature ravished, witli a terrible consent. LEAF FROM THE BRYANT CHAPLET, 309 For Sorrow from the city to the martial camp has fled, To himt, with her funereal torch, the featm-es of the dead. Another and another son the sheaf of Fate doth bind, But nothing of the thoughts of God, or hope of human kind. Resurrection in the valley ! resurrection on the shore ! When great Justice is established, we shall have our own once more ; Not like us, unfixed, inconstant in our issues great and small, But a phalanx set in marble for the future's judgment call. Long remain the noble Poet, priceless hostage of our love ! Vainly floats the winged message from the banquet halls of Jove, Vainly voices from Valhalla name the champion of the free : He has pceans yet to utter, he must crown our victory. 310 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. When the moment comes to claim him that must come to claim us all, Hearts that cherish human longings will be darkened by his fall ; But immortal Truth shall welcome her adorer to her breast, Saying, " Things are changed between us now. On earth I was thy guest." HENRY WILSON'S SILVER WEDDING. 311 HENRY WILSON'S SILVER WEDDING. The ancients had an age of gold, To silver thence descending, While yet in baser metal told The series had its ending. The golden lime bore men divine ; The silver, men heroic ; The brazen did to deeds decline. Rebuked of sage and stoic. The mystic trine by Plato cast Was thus reversed from Nature : The gold was in the unknown Past, Not in the unknown Future. 312 POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. Our country knows the age of brass, Whose wary politician Digs in that ore the steps that pass To recognized position. But Wilson, from the lowlier base The silver vantage gaining, Climbs ever towards the golden grace, With labor uncomplaining. Well may the country thrive like him To whom her heart's beholden, — His Present's Silver never dim. His Future always Golden ! THE NEW EXODUS. 313 THE NEW EXODUS. ^' Forsake this flowery garden !" tlie frowning Angel said ; " Its vines no more may feed thee, compel from stones thy bread ; Pursue the veins deep buried that hide thy wine and oil: Fruit shalt thou find with sorrow, and children rear in toil." Oh ! not in heathen vengeance the winged apostle spoke ; Nor savage retribution the blooming fetters broke. Man had an arm for labor, a strength to conquer pain, A brain to plot and study, a will to serve and reign. 314 P0E3IS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. That will with slow arraying confronts itself with fate, The pair unconscious twining the arches of the State. Earth keeps her fairest garlands to crown the tireless spade ; The fields are white with harvest, the hireling's fee is paid. From tented field to city, to palace, and to throne, Man builds with work his kingdom, and makes the world his own. All welded with conditions is empire's golden ring : The king must keep the peasant, the peasant feed the king. The word of God once spoken, from truth is never lost; The high command once given, earth guards with jealous cost. By this perplexing lesson, men build their busy schemes : '^ The way of comfort lies not, kind Eden, through thy dreams." THE NEW EXODUS. 315 I see a land before me, where manhood in its pride Forgot the solemn sentence, the wage of toil denied : " To wealth and lofty station some royal road must be ; Our brother, bound and plundered, shall earn us luxury. One half of knowledo^e ^^ v^' do^ - C<> .V, ^ ' ,s 'C^ v^'^^^^v ' x^^^ /..s^ A^ 0°' . "%-- '*»,<% ^\<>- ' '-^s^'- s^''% ^ \s A %=% 015 821 657 7 'Mtl' I'M. if; ! m I' ti'i.'i.'jl! i) WMmi !;,lf iii il/< i ;l!^- lum 'U\: mm mm m mMm' ili,ll