LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 5^W2f — 
 
 . _ iapj|ng|lfo 
 
 Shelf .L..t/.-6-5'I 
 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
Passion Flower 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Theophilus H. Hill. 
 
 RAl.iaoil, N. C: 
 
 rrBLisiu:!) liv r. \v. \vilk\ 
 
 1883. 
 
TSI9 fc.^ 
 
 Copyright. I.SS3. by Thkophiia's II. Hill. 
 
 PRESSES OF 
 
 P. W. WILEY, 
 
 RALEIGH, N. C. 
 
Xintli Caicilina has in-udiuvd no truer poet than 
 .101 IN II. P.OXKR, Es(j., 
 of Wasliiii;.itoii, I ).(".. soiiu' of wliosc fuLntive poems would 
 do liouor to any poet, liviuLi' or dead. With this introduc- 
 tion, and without iiis Unowicduv, "tlic hiter poems," con- 
 taineil in the followin;^ pa,<ii's, arc conhally inscril)ed to luiu, 
 
 liy liis fVicnd, 
 
 THP] AITHOK. 
 
Sii 11 iif my latii- [lui'ins as I care tn ackimwlt'd^v apj^'ar 
 in this voliiiiic. Inr tiif lirst tiinc ciillcctivcly. To tiiese lia\ r 
 \\vv\\ a(l(U'(l si'U'ctions fnnii verses written in youth, and 
 jiiihlisheil in ISdil. TIh' hitter have liad reeent revision; 
 thi' former are the (lowers of a meai^re aftermath. 
 
 TIlKOPIITLrS II. IIILI,. 
 
 K.M.KK.ii, N. c, hss:;. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAfiE. 
 
 AniDK WITH IS, . . . . . . ]\2 
 
 Ad Astka i'ki; Aspkka . li'd 
 
 A (xAXfiESE DltKAM. -I 
 
 Anac'ukoxtk 25 
 
 An(;ki.a. . 44 
 
 An Idkai, Siksta, ....... oS 
 
 .V \'ki;nai, Revickik Klfl 
 
 ciiKcKKuwdKK, ........ :>;') 
 
 Ci.oiDs WITH Sii.vKi; Linincs, ..... 85 
 
 |),\Ni)i:i,i()XS, 114 
 
 Dauknkss, :V2 
 
 I)isi;n(iiant.mi:.\"t, ....... 17 
 
 duuamara :!() 
 
 FiKRsiDE Fanites 50 
 
 IIe.si>eij 101 
 
 HiU'E (IF Heaven, ....... ]0:> 
 
 l>()ST Estate, The r->~^ 
 
 I>i)VE Among the Hoses 2!> 
 
 MoTiiEu's Pkavki!, The (iS 
 
 Nakcissus, !)() 
 
VIII CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Ode to Sleep, (i() 
 
 Passion Flower, ] 
 
 Pekdite, 62 
 
 Pit and Penduli'm, ....... (i4 
 
 Plea of the Prodigal, . . . . . . . S2 
 
 Poet's AFTERTiiorciiiT, The 7i> 
 
 Proemial Stanzas, 107 
 
 Rainbow of Revelation, . . . . . . 117 
 
 Reveille, 88 
 
 Rose and Butterfly, ...... H6 
 
 Sabbath of the Spring, The 21 
 
 Salad for Lent, ....... 98 
 
 Shadow of the Rock, The ...... 38 
 
 Song of the Butterfly, 13 
 
 Star Above the Manger, The 75 
 
 Stella, 39 
 
 St. Valentine's Day, ....... 52 
 
 Sunset, 49 
 
 ViciSTi Me Galile.^, 42 
 
 Violets, 72 
 
 Will 84 
 
 Willie, 8 
 
 Within the Veil, 105 
 
Passion Flower 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 FASSIOX FLOWER. 
 
 ' I 'MK C'KOSS whereon my Savior limiii,, 
 
 A shadow oer inv soul hath flung;, 
 W'hei'ein \\\\ sill and shame I hide, 
 Vin- lie, tor me, was crucified. 
 
 Phe sin was mine which wroug'ht His woe, 
 And vet, He loved the sinner so. 
 The Lord of" all forsook His throne, 
 To make mv \i\v\\i and ii^rief' His own. 
 
PASSION FI.OWKR. 
 
 Alone, "the iMan of Sorrows" trod 
 The wine-j)ress of the m rath of God, 
 And died upon the tristful tree, 
 A saerifieial death foi- nie. 
 
 He stained for me His raiment red. 
 But His, — not mine, — the blood He shed ; 
 For me, He wore a erown of thorn, 
 The cruel badge of human scorn. 
 
 Ah, contrite soul! wonldst thou express 
 A sense of thine own guiltiness? 
 Weigh thou thy sins, whose curse He bore, 
 And love, — redeeming love, — adore! 
 
 Add now to thine the guilt of all, 
 Who must, through Him, for mercy call, 
 And heap their sorrows, nmltiplied. 
 On Him all men have crucified: 
 
 View thus the Lamb for siuners slain, 
 Till, — pierced with sympathizing paiu, — 
 Thou of His Passion wouldst partake, 
 And leavest all things for His sake. 
 
I'ASSION FI,(^^\■I•:l>. 
 
 Lnw ;il 'riiy Ccct, () ( "lirist, I ('nil I 
 S|)iini iK.f tlic s|)il<ciiar(l wliidi I hrinji-! 
 
 I')i' riiiiii, tVdin liciicc, iiiv all in all, — 
 Aiidintcd I*i-()|)lic(, Pi-icst and Ivin«>-! 
 
 ronch 'I'hon my lips with liallowcd tire! 
 
 Most lovino- zfal for 'I'hcc iin|»art; 
 riiy life, tliron^h all my life, inspire, 
 
 And I'ciLiii tiM-c\cr in mv heart! 
 
A GANGE8E DREAM. 
 
 T7REIGHTED with fruits, aflusli with flouci-s,- 
 
 ObJatious to oti'eiided powers, — 
 What fairv-like flotillas gleam, 
 At nig'ht, on Brahiiui's saered stream; 
 The while, ashore, on bended knees. 
 Benighted Hindoo devotees 
 Sue for their silvery, silken sails 
 The advent of auspicious gales. 
 
 Such gorgeous pageant I have seen 
 
 Drift down the (ranges, while I stood, 
 '\\'ithin the Iranian's bosky screen. 
 
 And gazed on his transfigured flood: 
 Around each consecrated bark, 
 That sailed into the outer dark. 
 What lambent lights those lanterns rave ! 
 
 What opalescent mazes jilayed, 
 Re-duplicated on the ^vave, 
 
 While, to and fro, like censers, sAvayed, 
 
A <;an<;f,sk dwkam. 
 
 TIka' made it liiiiiiiKtiis ti> <ilass 
 Tlicir tlcctiiiii- splendors ere tliiA- j)ass! 
 
 O'er each, as shiinniorinti' it swiiiiti', 
 A liazc of crimson halo liuiiii-, 
 Ik'oirt \>\ folds ot' l)il]()\vy mist, 
 Suffused with purpliuif amethyst : 
 l''rom tlicsc, still faintci- halos Hung-, 
 Lent each to some rclVacted zone 
 Hues of a lustre not its own, 
 Till, satellite of satellite, 
 I\ludinii- '"y l)e\vildere(l sight, 
 III gloomier eddies of the stream, 
 Ketaiiied n(» more a l)on-o\v(,'d beam: 
 Thus, one by one, their s|)arl<liiig sails, 
 Distended by Sabean gales, 
 1 saw those N'otive vessels glide, 
 lKes|)lendent, o'er the swelling tide, 
 \\ Idle each, with its attendant shade, 
 ( )r dusk, or radiant rijiples made; 
 These Hashing into fiery bloom ; 
 Those sinoulderinu' into trarnet-u'looni ! 
 
A (4ANGESE DREAM. 
 
 All this I saw, or else, at night, 
 Pursuing Fancy in her flight, 
 
 1 paused beneath what seemed to be 
 The umbrage of a banian-tree, 
 And down the Ganges of a dream 
 Ik'held that gay flotilla gleam. 
 
 It seems to me but yesterday. 
 
 Since ofl' the beach of Promise lay 
 
 The brilliant barges Ho])e had Avrought, 
 
 And young Desire had richly fraught, 
 
 (Alas! how soon such tissues fade!) 
 
 With fragile stufls, whence dreams are made! 
 
 Proud owner of that fleet, I stood, 
 
 Gazing on the transflgured flood, 
 
 And saw its constellated sails. 
 
 Expanded by propitious gales, 
 
 Till shallop after shallop flew, — 
 
 As fresher yet the breezes blew, — 
 
 In joyous quest of full fruition, 
 
 To swift and terrible perdition! 
 
A <IAN(il-:sF, DltKAM. 
 
 Sonic, ill litcV- \crii;il ('(|iiiii(».\, 
 
 ()'(•!• (I(s|)( rate sc-is ti) wreck were (li-i\-eii; 
 And (itlicrs stiMick on sunken rocks, 
 
 ( )r, in the niLilit, hy Ii<ilitnin<i- ri\-en, 
 l*>ui-ne(l to the water's ed^-e; while thev 
 
 That, not nnseatlied, hnl still imsluittered, 
 
 Snf\i\'ed the storm, were widely scattered: 
 ( )iie only kept its destined wa\-, 
 
 To sink — no iViendIv consort near — 
 In siuht of port, at close of <lay, 
 
 \\ hen seas were calm, and skies were clear! 
 
WILLIE. 
 
 Born January 16tli, 1863; died June 24tli, 1S65. 
 
 ' I ^HE things he used to play with 
 
 Lie in the corner there; 
 And yonder hangs the worsted cap, 
 
 That he was wont to wear; 
 Beneath his dimpled chin I see 
 
 Its crimson tassels tied, 
 And clasp once more, with fond caress, 
 
 Our little boy that died. 
 
 I hear the restless, rosy feet, 
 
 That patter on the stair. 
 And now he runs to Mamma's seat, 
 
 To nestle fondly there: 
 He sits u])on my knee again, 
 
 Or, on my foot astride, 
 I toss the darling of my heart, 
 
 Who clambers for a ride. 
 
W ILLIK. 
 
 I'lic l;il»i»r ot" the day is (1((IK'; 
 
 IIoiiu', to a ii'I()\viii«i' luartli, 
 I hasti'H, vvv the set of sun, 
 
 riic lia|)i>i('st mail on cai'tli ; 
 A iiiotlici', standinu' at the door, 
 
 Looks out, adow II tlic street, 
 Klate with joy, as runs her l)oy, — 
 
 His i'lxiher first to greet. 
 
 All, then riiilit inerriiy we ronip! 
 
 Ami noisy is our li'lee, 
 For each, to please the household ])et, 
 
 Must horse or driver be; 
 He brings "his blocks," and bogs Pa[)a 
 
 "A duirch" for him to rear, 
 lint knocks the fabric down before 
 
 The steej)le can ajipeur. 
 
 His marbles next and then his ball. 
 
 Till, weary of our play, 
 He sups on mother's lap and folds 
 
 His little liands to pray: 
 
10 WILLIE. 
 
 And "Now I lay me down to sleep," — 
 
 That inunemorial jmiyer, — 
 In faltering phrases, soft and sweet, 
 
 Makes nuisical the air. 
 
 He slee])s: the hi'e is hnrning low, 
 
 And shadows on the wall, 
 I^ike those he wondered at, and feared, 
 
 (xrotesqnely rise and fall : 
 Night, — rayless night, — o'erwhehiis my soni, 
 
 And yet, in my despair, 
 I sometimes almost smile to think 
 
 There is no shadow thei-e! 
 
 Tis Summer-time again, and I 
 
 Sit moarnfully for hours, 
 And watch tJie painted butterflies, 
 
 That woo his favorite flowers; 
 They hover, unmolested, here, 
 
 Yet, — dreaming of the chase, — 
 I see the hunter's flashing eyes, — 
 
 His flushed and eajrer face ! 
 
w iM.ii:. 
 
 11 
 
 IldW (lit I've seen the jociind bov 
 
 Ivctiini iVoiii <j,;ir<l('ii-j>lav, 
 His Siiiiinicr-liMt, of |)l;iitc<l straw, 
 
 ^^ itli larkspur Mossoius ii'av ! 
 Till' hand that (h'ckcd it thus need not 
 
 Renew the gai'huid now, 
 For seraphim and oheruhim 
 
 Twine amaranth for his brow! 
 
 Strange silence bi-oods o'er all the house, 
 
 From dawn to eh)se of day; 
 'I'he little drummer l)eats no more 
 
 Tattoo or Iveveille; 
 His feathered cap and ])lai(U'd cloak, 
 
 And broken <b'um remain, — 
 J^ut he, who Avore them once may ne'er 
 
 Come back to us auain. 
 
 It almost breaks my heart to see 
 
 The dog h(> daily fed, 
 ( "rouch at our fei't, and mutely ask 
 
 'Tlie living for the dead; 
 
1 2 WIIvLIE. 
 
 J cannot liarslily drive him ont, 
 Tliongh keener grief than mine 
 
 Mells forth afresh whene'er she hears 
 His wistfnl — piteous whine. 
 
 "But wouklst thou call him back to earth,— 
 
 Have him again to ^ear 
 The crimson-tasseled worsted ea)), 
 
 Upon his goklen hair? 
 Wouklst have thine angel lay aside 
 
 His diadem of light, — 
 Change crown for cross, and blindly grope, 
 
 Beside thee, through the night 
 
 •)" 
 
 Ask me no more, for flesh is weak ; 
 
 Our idol was a part 
 Of every earth-born hope that blessed 
 
 Mine and his mother's heart! 
 "Ask me no more": help us, O God, 
 
 This bitter loss to bear — 
 To kiss Thy chastening rod, and live 
 
 To find "our treasure,^' there! 
 
;S0NG OF THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 ■ Wliat moio filifity can foil to creature 
 Than lo enjoy ilclisht with liberty." 
 
 Si'ENSek: Fnlv of llic Jinllrrtti/. 
 
 "A A y IK) is niL'iTier tliaii 1?" 
 
 (inoth the golden Butteriiv ; 
 " In the sliininii' court of May, 
 Whose :ij)i);in'l half so g'ay ? 
 I rctirct each sparkling hue 
 ( )f her radiant retinue; 
 I have kissed the lily's eheek; 
 1 have ])laycd at ' hide and seek/ 
 Veiled A^iolet, with you? 
 Who is merrier than I?" 
 (^uoth the golden Butterfly. 
 
 IT. 
 
 "I have flirted, too, with thee. 
 Tremulous Anemone ! 
 
14 SONG OF THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 And the blue-oyed pini])eriiel, 
 And the Canterbury-hell 
 Are superlatively blest, 
 Should I, for a moment, rest 
 Down in yonder grassy dell : 
 Little do they dream that I 
 From their soft caresses flv, 
 But to breathe the rare perfume 
 Of the pale magnolia bloom ; 
 (_)r to spend a listless hour, 
 In the cool, secluded bower 
 Of the pining Passion Flower! 
 Blither wooer, who than I?" 
 Quoth the gallant Butterfly. 
 
 III. 
 
 "When the shades of evening fall, 
 Like the foldings of a pall; 
 When the dew is on the flowers, 
 And the mute, unconscious Hours 
 Still pursue their noiseless flight, 
 Through the dreamy realms of night; 
 
s().\(i OF riii-; urTTKKi'LV. 1 •") 
 
 1 low (Icliiilitl'iil to recline 
 ( )n this eriiusoii eoiieli ol" mine! 
 /e])li\rs, l:init'ni<l with perfume, 
 <ienti\- rork mv eratlle-hhxtm ; 
 ( iiitterini;- hosts of fii-e-Hics 
 (iiianl my sUimhers from sui'])rise, 
 And Diana's starrv ti-ain, 
 Sweetly seintillant ai2;ain, 
 Never slee]) while I repose 
 ( )n till- petals of the rose! 
 Who hath balmier hed than I?" 
 (^i(»tii the brilliant Butterfly. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Life is but a Summer day, 
 (Hiding goldeidy away : 
 AVinter comes, alas! too soon, — 
 Would it were forever June! 
 Yet, though brief my flight may be, 
 l''un and frolic still for me! 
 When the sisterhood of flowers, 
 Having had their gala-day, 
 
16 soN(i OF THE buttp:rfly. 
 
 In the chill autuinnal showers, 
 Sorrowfully fade awaA% — 
 Doomed to darkness and decay 
 Who M'ould not j^refer to die — 
 What were life to such as I?" 
 Quoth the flaunting Butterfly. 
 
DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 • Till- iiiviiilur lit' a spimiiiiK-ji'nny is pretty sure of liis rewanl in 
 liis own (lay: Imt the writer of a true i)oeni, like the apostle of a true 
 reli-iion. is nearly as sure of the eoutrary." — Caim.yi.k. 
 
 • Hut he -irew olil— this Uniuhl so hold— 
 
 And o"er his heart a shadow 
 I'ell as he found no spot of ground 
 
 I'hat looked like El Dorado." — Edgau Ai.i.an 1'oe. 
 
 poHSV: thou art a iountain, 
 
 In a dismal desert land, 
 On a bleak and lonely mountain, 
 High above the glowing sand: 
 
 At whose base, athirst and weary, 
 
 I, — a way-worn pilgrim, lie, 
 (Jazing out upon the dreary 
 
 Toi'rid waste and brazen skv. 
 
 Hope, with promise of" to-morrow, 
 (Jilds no more the rugged wav; 
 
 Disenchantment here, and sorrow 
 IJivcmae at the close of da v. 
 
DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 Oft, upon my eager vision, 
 
 Beamed the mirage of the ])lain; 
 
 Green oases, — fields elysian 
 Rose to fade away again : 
 
 Towering palm-trees grouped to shadow- 
 Living fountains, cool and clear; 
 
 Murmurs, as of El Dorado, 
 Faintly fell upon my ear: 
 
 Flushed with fever, weak and wasted, — 
 Like the wretch who stoops to sip 
 
 Water, that for aye untasted. 
 Tempts, then flies his arid lij), 
 
 I drew near the lakes that shimmer 
 In this wilderness accursed ; — 
 
 They receding, — growing dimmer. 
 Baffled still my burning thirst. 
 
 (Thus the nomads of Sahara 
 Haply dream, — all pei'il past, — 
 
 Other wells than those of Marah, 
 Will refresh their lips at last.) 
 
DISHNCIIAN'I'MKNT 
 
 1!> 
 
 Not tor iiu', to scale the iiiouiitain, 
 Kneel \\'n\\ tlie su])enial tlirono-, 
 
 Hriiik ot" the ("astaliaii loimtaiii, 
 (Jive tlie world uiitlying song! 
 
 Feet of" clay have here Msei-nded, 
 Mortals yet the [)ath may trace; 
 
 J^nt my travail now is ended, — 
 This nuist be my resting-place. 
 
 I with Fate no longer ((iiarrel, — 
 Dying, will no n)ore repine, 
 
 Lest another win the laurel, 
 I too fondly hoped to twine. 
 
 Nobler here, alone, to perish, — 
 Nameless seeker of a name, — 
 
 Than in sordid ease to eherisli 
 Sinuilated scorn of fame: 
 
 Though no earthly adulation 
 
 Crowd the' minster, — crown the urn. 
 There will be a coronation, 
 
 Human eve inav not discern: 
 
20 DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 All epiphany immortal 
 
 May for jxist eclipse atone; 
 
 Though at Death's unhonored portal 
 Stand no cenotaph of stone. 
 
 Honor waits on high endeavor, 
 Holding high award in trust; 
 
 Pledges to her seed forever, 
 Resurrection from the dust ! 
 
TllK ,'^ABBATH OF THE SPBING. 
 
 ■Tlu- llowi-rs iippcai- (in the i:iilli : llu- time of tlif siugiii!^- of l>ir<l^ 
 is I'aiiic. anil the voico of the I mile is licaiil in our land." 
 
 ("AN TKMCS ii. I'J. 
 
 A GJwOlilOrS change is coinc to pass: 
 An April sky is overhead; 
 A fflisteninp- emerald tints the <rrass, 
 
 And llowers are risinir i'roni the dead. 
 A lao-ganl still, though other trees 
 Have donned their vernal liveries, 
 The dainty ash at length reeeives 
 Her graeeful garniture of leaves: 
 In floral ermine, white as snow, 
 Tiie dogwood and the hawtliorn glow. 
 And, hursting from their icy prison. 
 The golden buttereups ai'e risen! 
 
 Aroused from their hibernal sleej). 
 The jaeinth and the croeus lea[) 
 Into the la[) of Spring, and bare 
 Their scented l)osonis to the air: 
 
22 THE SABBATH OF THE SPRING. 
 
 With downcast eve and niieii demure, 
 Tlu^ pensive snow-droj), pale and ])ure, 
 kSeenis listening- to an ardent wooer; 
 Later from Winter's realm to sally, 
 The loitering- lily of the valley 
 Beo:ii)i^ t(» bud ; and sweeter vet, 
 The darling, blue-eyed violet, 
 Who — cloistered in the twilight shade 
 Which her luxuriant leaves have made — 
 Bv her own V)reathing is betrayed. 
 
 Above me now the honeyed cells 
 
 Of purjile Persian lilac bells 
 
 l^ulse perfumes on the wandering- breeze; 
 
 And lured by these, 
 
 The golden bees 
 Are come, with hummings of the hive. 
 Till every cluster is alive — 
 Till all their bells together chime 
 With murmurs di'owsier than my I'hyme,- 
 
 More softly sonuiolent than those 
 That -svooed, from Hybla's beds of thyme 
 And clover-gardens in their prime. 
 The weary to repose. 
 
TiiF, sAr.uA'ni (tK riii; si'uin(;. 
 
 At noun — ;is tipsy ms the Ixrs — 
 
 Tlic hmiiuid zcpliN rs lie, 
 Ai'oiiihI tlii'sc nc'ctiU'cd dialiccs, 
 
 I iiwittiiiL!,- Ii(»\v to fly ; 
 ^^»l• O! the luscious lilac iiowcrs, 
 
 While iiiviuii' Siii'Ii for sii>;li, 
 Breathe ()|)iate halm that overpowers 
 
 'J1ic trillers till th(y die! 
 
 Jilush-tiiited petals of the new 
 Peach-hlossonis lend a rosy hue 
 To fields that widen on the view, 
 To wlu'iv — withdrawn into a mist 
 ( )f crimson haze and amethyst — 
 The sky puts off its liviuii' hlue. 
 
 Tlie winded choristers of air 
 Are makiuti' music everywhere; 
 Ere dawn emerges fi-om the dark 
 Are heard the matins of the lark; 
 'Hie thi'ush siug-.s in the iiazel brake; 
 The mockiuii" hird is wide awake; 
 
24 THE SABBATH OF THE SPEINd. 
 
 The blithe hedge-sj)aiT()w cliirrups bv 
 The swaUows twitter in the sky; 
 And faintly — far adowij the glen — 
 Is cheeping now the russet wren, — 
 
 Birds, bees and flowers, 
 
 Sunshine and showers, 
 To grace and gladden hill and ])lain. 
 Bring Sabbath to the world again! 
 
ANACREONTIC. 
 
 " I uwoUo till" next inoriiiiiy; with an aehiiiji' head and frvci-ish lianic. 
 All. tliosc midnight carousals, how f>:l<>''i<>i's they would he if there 
 were No next nH)rnin.n!"' — Pilliint). 
 
 An anfiel would be all the better for a good night's carou'-e in 
 hont'st Moritz's wine-eellar; even to the ruffling of some of his l(;itli- 
 ers. Wliat a sorry appearance, though, would the (Ireadful next niorn- 
 ing bring-:" — KlMBAI.r.'s aS(. Lefjer. 
 
 171 LL u])! fill iij)! 
 The poi.-<(»i)-('up 
 With Lethe to the brim; 
 I yearn — I pine — 1 faint — I thirst 
 To see tile i)rilliant hnhhhs burst, 
 Around its r(i>y rim : 
 Then let me drain 
 The bowl again, 
 And fill it up once more; 
 For fearful phantoms haiuit my brain, 
 And, at the open door, 
 
 D 
 
26 AXACREOXTIC. 
 
 A ghastly oroiip of fiends appear, — 
 Their hollow laughter racks my ear; 
 See! how malignantly they leer 
 
 U[)on the wi-eck they've made: 
 They little care that honor, wealth, 
 And home, and happiness, and health 
 
 Are blighted and betrayed! 
 
 Fill ni)! hll up! 
 The sparkling eup; 
 It is with Lethe fraught! 
 It drowns reflection, palsies thought, 
 
 Binds memory in chains, 
 And bids the hot blood leap and dart, 
 I^ike molten lava fiom my heart. 
 To fire the slusroish veins! 
 
 '&&• 
 
 Fill to the brim, and I will drink, 
 
 " To Memory and Thought, 
 Eternal Death."— For O, to think 
 Is with such horror fraught, — 
 That hell would be 
 A heaven to me, 
 
ANACIIKONTK'. 
 
 WCrc Mciiiorv no more! 
 Avcl could I iicxcr tliiiil< aii'ain,- 
 
 Xevor the |iast <l('|)l()r{', — 
 I slidiild IK) loiiti-cr here remain; 
 l''(ir licll can have no jH'nal |)ain, 
 In all its ticrv domain, 
 So fcari'nl nnto me, 
 As the Si'or))ion-stin<r 
 ( )i" that terrihle thinu; 
 Which we call Memorv! 
 
 To (h'eani ot" all that I am now, — 
 
 Of all I mi^'ht liave been; 
 The crown ot" ihofiis upon my brow, — 
 
 The giiawinti' worm within; 
 Of all tlie treasures I have lost, 
 Tjike leaves autumnal, tenii)est-tost, — 
 Of sunl)eams into clouds withdra'wn, 
 Their momenta ly sparkle gone, — 
 ( )f murdered hope and l)lighte(l hloom— 
 O (lodl how hoi-ril)le mv doom I 
 
2s ANACREONTIC. 
 
 Yet iill, fill up! 
 The erinisoii eup, 
 With frenzy to the bi-im ! 
 I wildly burn, — I madly thirst, — 
 To see the blushini); bubbles burst 
 Around its rubv rim ! 
 
LOVE AMONG THE ROSES. 
 
 ■ III deepest gniss beneath the whispering- roof 
 Of U'aves and trenihled blossoms, wliere tli»-ii- ran 
 A brooklet searee esi)ie<l.'" 
 
 KICAIS' 0<lc III I'.SIK-ll, 
 
 T IIAN'K I'ouikI liiiiil lu'ie lie lies, 
 
 \\\'arv of the clinsf; 
 Liii'cd by v:i<i.r:i!it WiittcrHics 
 
 To this slindy j)l;ice: 
 Ilat in liaiid, lie ran ior lioiirs, 
 111 and out, ainonjj; tlic flowers, 
 I'ollow iiig- each g'olden prize, 
 "W'itli winged feet and wistful eyes. 
 
 He dreams lieiicath a (h'oo|)iiio' vine, 
 Whose graceful trailers intertwine, 
 Weavinti', al)o\(' his head, a woof 
 
 Of dark green leaves and crimson flowei's: 
 In vain, through this umbrageous roof, 
 
 May noontide sunbeams try to [U'cp; 
 
LOVf: AMONG THE ROSES. 
 
 Here, time is tokl in twilight hours, 
 While infant beauty lies — asleep. 
 
 Gay birds and g-org'eous l)utterflies 
 
 Flash through these "purpling glooms," 
 Where zej)hyrs woo, with plaintive sigiis, 
 
 The hearts of hidden blooms; 
 Yet heedless of their happy flight. 
 He slumbers still, serenely bright — 
 Transfigured in the shifting light! 
 
 The tinkling l)ells of sylvan streams, 
 Whieh wind around this cool retreat. 
 
 Chime to the music of his dreams; 
 For, sheltered from the glowing heat. 
 
 Their laughing, s[)arkling waters meet 
 
 To rip])le at his rosy feet ! 
 
 Yes! I've found him! 
 All around him 
 Blushing flowers bud and bloom ; 
 
i,<)\i", .\M()N(; riiK itosKs. 
 
 .Mcri'ily the hinis arc siiioijia;, 
 I>n)\\>.ily the Ik'cs arc cliiiii-iiiti', 
 
 (Di'iiiikcn will) |)cri'iiiiic) 
 To tlic lilies and llic ruses 
 "IiiiuikI the spot wheu' Love re[)()ses! 
 
DARKNESS. 
 
 /\ S WHEN, with eager, straining eyes, 
 We gaze on gloomy twilight skies 
 Until we falsely dream that we. 
 For one brief instant, dimly see 
 The smile of some capricious star 
 Flash through the murky clouds afar; 
 So my bewildered heart to-night 
 Gropes blindly, seeking hidden light: 
 Its mournful introverted eye, 
 Now fixed upon a darker sky. 
 Would fain dispel the gathering haze. 
 Explore the twilight's misty maze. 
 And call to its enraptured gaze. 
 From out their petulant eclipse, 
 The smiles that shone on Laura's lips. 
 
CHECKER WORK. 
 
 A A 7^ 1 1 EX the laiiii'uid Siinimcr hrcezc 
 Sways the f'olia,«>e of tlic trees, — 
 Foliage brij^ht with spleii(K)r won 
 From an oriental sun, — 
 See, upon the ground (lis|)laye(l, 
 ( 'lu'ckerwork of light and shade! 
 
 Swift as shuttle in the loom, 
 Sunbeams sparkle through the gloom, 
 And the pensive eye pereeives, 
 
 Traced upon the sward below, 
 Shape and movement of the leaves, 
 
 As they Hieker to and fro, 
 Goldenly, like harvest sheaves, 
 
 (Jlinting in the morning glow. 
 
34: (HP^CKERWORK. 
 
 Shade and sheen, alternate, pass 
 Lightly over dewy grass : 
 In the dnsk, its vivid green 
 Deepens into euehlorine, — 
 TAvinkling in the sun, it has 
 Tenderest tint of ehrvsoj)rase! 
 
 ir. 
 
 Life is tessellated so; — 
 Woof of joy and war]) of woe ; 
 Its divinest hues appear. 
 When a smile, upon a tear. 
 Calls an iris into view, 
 Giving heart to hope anew: 
 
 Then a glory gilds the glooui ; 
 Wakens beauty into bloom; 
 Kindles, when the tempest lowert 
 Courage for tiie darkest hours; 
 Promises, however long 
 
 And unequal be the fight, — 
 Final overthrow of wrong, — 
 
 Victory for truth and right. 
 
<iii;<'Ki;i;\\()i!K. 
 
 60 
 
 Dcltly, — swiftly, by mihI by, 
 Sec the sliiniiiu' slmttlcs Hv, 
 Till the warp is ovcrwrono-ht 
 l'>\ the li(>|H"ful weaver's tiioiii-'ht, 
 And his tiladdeiied eyes behold 
 He is weaving cloth of gold! 
 
DULCAMARA. 
 
 /^~\FT when the sunlight's golden gleam 
 
 Has died n])()n our sorrow, 
 V^e sink in sleep, — perehanee to dream 
 Of happiness to-morrow. 
 
 We strive to banish thoughts of ill, 
 
 Or smile at their intrusion; 
 And oft deluded, fondly still 
 
 Clinp; to eaeh sweet illusion. 
 
 I)a\vu brings no day, and S])ring do bloom, 
 
 Earth seems a sad Sahara; 
 Till Hope returning gilds the gloom 
 
 And leads to — wells of Marah ! 
 
 Yet is it not far better thus 
 
 To yield to her beguiling? 
 How dark w(U'e all the M'orld to us 
 
 Did we distrust her smilino'! 
 
Kri.cAMAUA. ;37 
 
 W hat tliuiiM'li our castles, ivaivd in air, 
 
 JVg'iii so soon to ciMiniMc".' 
 Hope is a rcfiiov IVoni despair 
 
 When all theii- turrets tuiiil)Ie! 
 
 Then lilest are (hcainers to tlie last, 
 Who dream not they are dreaming'; 
 
 Their skies no cloud niav overcast — 
 To them, all is that's seeming! 
 
 Uiit woe to those who \\ake to weej) 
 
 The idols they have cherished, 
 And may not tind again in sleej) 
 
 'I'he phantoms which have ])erished ! 
 
 ( >ne such 1 know, within wliosc^ heart 
 
 Ho])e has no more a dwelling, — 
 From whose dark dreams no sibvls start 
 
 Of peace and joy foretelling! 
 
 Oye, who waken with the morn, 
 
 To beatific visi<»n ! 
 IVay, — if ye may — for those forlorn 
 
 Of love and linht elvsian! 
 
THE SHAIJOIV OF THE ROCK 
 
 'The shadow of a Great Rock in a weary land." 
 
 Isaiah xxxii. 2. 
 
 T OST in Sahara's trackless wikls, in vain 
 
 Wouklst thou shake off the (kirkness of desjxiir; 
 Thou reelest blindly, in the noontide glare, 
 Athirst and weary o'er the burning plain : 
 Long hast thou trod, beneath thy bleeding feet, 
 
 The glowing sands, a fearful death to die. 
 
 When sparkling fountains burst upon thine eye, 
 And grouping pahn-trees sj)read a shelter from the 
 
 heat : 
 Far, far away, beside a gloomy hearth, 
 
 Where feebly now the fading embers burn, 
 Thy hoary sire, and she who gave thee birth, 
 
 Heart-broken, wait to welcome thy return : 
 (lod shield thee ! hapless struggler from the flock. 
 And hide thee now within the Shadow of the Rock ! 
 
STELLA. 
 
 " Ah ! Psyt'hc, from the regions wiiicli 
 Are Holy Land! ■ 
 
 EuGAU Allan 1'ok. 
 
 OTAl* of" my sdiil! I saw thee rise 
 
 In trcinbling bccUity o'ci" a sea, — 
 A silent sea, — the j)ast, that li(^s 
 Asleep in nieniorv ! 
 
 Mv spirit canoht the hallovved heanis 
 That fell on the enchanted air; 
 
 X(ir to Kndvniion, in his dreams, 
 Were Dian's hall' so fair. 
 
 Ai'ound me Inini;- a ti'olden glow. 
 
 That Hushed the amaranthine flowers, 
 
 \\ hose censers, swinging to and fro, 
 Perfumed the midnight hours: 
 
40 . 8TELI.A. 
 
 For Hope, who long, on wanton wing, 
 
 Coquetted coyly with Desire, 
 Then deigned to robe the meanest thing 
 
 In scintillant attire. 
 
 Cradled in my too happy heart, 
 
 Love whispered, in my rosy dream, 
 
 That thou wouldst nev^ermore depart — 
 Wouldst never cease to beam. 
 
 At anchor off the flowery strand, 
 
 Ho[)e's fragile bark — " The Venture "—lay, 
 .\nd, lured by her, I sought a land 
 
 Of Promise far away. 
 
 At first propitious breezes blew. 
 And swiftly from the starlit shore 
 
 Our yacht, a dancing feather, flew 
 The bounding billows o'er. 
 
 But now, beneath an angry sky. 
 O'er alien seas the wreck is driven ; 
 
 Nor dare I look again on high, 
 To miss my star from heaven ! 
 
STKIJ.A, 
 
 St;ir of my soiil! My .Moniiiiu- Star! 
 
 l^iii- aliiioiici- (){■ Ii\iiio; li<ilit! 
 Thy Krilliant l)cains arc shed afar 
 
 ( )ii oilier hearts t(»-niii,ht ! 
 
 Thoti heraldost ii Sabbath iDorn, 
 And shinest unto perfect day, 
 
 Wliile I am tossed at sea — forlorn 
 ( )f thy belli^■nallt rav. 
 
 Arise and shine! I pine for tliec! 
 
 Fhish through the rifted cdonds afar! 
 Earth has no other light for nie — 
 
 My sky, no other star! 
 
 Beam — brightly beam! dispel my gloom! 
 
 Drive fear and shadow far awav! 
 Did hyacinthine hopes to bloom, 
 
 And Spring foicver stay! 
 
VICISTI 3IE, GALILE^E. 
 
 ' I ^HE peace of God that passeth knowledge fills 
 Fall many an humble human heart to-day, 
 Whose eyes of Faith, fixed on the heavenly hills, 
 Win glorious glimpses of the far away. 
 
 However weak and tempted they may be, 
 HoA\'ever drear the way ^^•herein they tread, 
 
 They hear His voice, whose path is in the sea, — 
 The voice of Him, who raised them from the dead. 
 
 Born of the travail of His broken heart. 
 
 They, too, the chalice of His grief would share; 
 
 Bought by His blood, from Jesus to depart 
 Were death in life, dishonor and despair. 
 
 They follow Him, because He wore for them, 
 Uj)on His kingly brow, the crown of thorn ; 
 
 And they, to touch if but His garment's hem, 
 Would Avear for Him, a diadem of scorn. 
 
VICISTI MK, CAMLILE. 4'> 
 
 N'oi' t"c;ir ot" lu'!l, nor \u)\n' i»t" liciivcn constrain 
 
 Tlicir hearts the (lalilcan to ohcy ; 
 The ( 'ross whci'i'on He Ix'U'iiarcd shame and pain, 
 
 Their souls to save, is niightier far tlian they. 
 
 They know that He, who vanquished Death and Hell, 
 
 And i-aptive led Captivity — a slave. 
 Still ijuides theni safely, — doetli all thintis well, 
 
 And ever live^:, omnipotent to save. 
 
 And when, at last, their weary warfare done, 
 They reach the realm of rest, the land oi' light. 
 
 The Blessed Christ, — God's well-beloved Son, 
 
 Will welcome them ''to walk with Him in M'hite!'' 
 
ANGELA. 
 
 A S pearls from wuve-woru caverns brought, 
 Retain the rainbow-hues they caught, 
 When, riven from the envious shell, 
 They into sudden sunlight fell. 
 Receive right royally a sheen 
 Their dark abodes had never seen, 
 And wear it as a diadem 
 Long wrongfully withheld from them ; 
 So she — unconscious of the grace 
 That more than beautifies her face — 
 Reflects the glory looked upon, 
 Till light from introspection won, 
 Irradiates — refines the sphere 
 Of tender ties that keep her here! 
 
 Not of this world, though in it, she 
 Seems but a visitor to be; 
 
AN(ii:i.A. 45 
 
 A nicssc'iiu'rr tVom realms ahove, 
 Si'iit on an ciuWassy (»t" Idve, 
 Whose svinpatliics, entwined witli onrs, 
 M'liiild draw ns to lier native bowers! 
 
 \\'aiting' her mission to fuUill, 
 Submissive to tlie Master's will, 
 She walks the earth a type of good 
 Self-abnegating womanhood, 
 And tells a rosarv, whose beads 
 Are loving thoughts and kindly deeds! 
 
 Esteeming other gain but loss 
 
 Beside the erown beyond the Cross, 
 
 Eaeh day in blessing others sj)ent 
 
 Finds her, at eve, a })enitent; 
 
 Thouo^h all who know her fain would guess 
 
 What one so sinless eould eonfess: 
 
 With faec aglow, as seeing Him, 
 
 Who dwells between the eherubim, 
 
 Fond faney views her kneeling there, 
 
 Rapt in the fervency of prayer 
 
 From every sublunary care, 
 
46 • ANGELA. 
 
 Until around her forehead beam 
 The halos of a poet's dream ! 
 
 It may be, that by being lowly, 
 Her soul, in self-abstraction, wholly 
 Forgives, forgets, until the morrow, 
 All neighborhood of sin and sorrow; 
 Evokes from purer contemplations 
 Sublimer faith, serener patieuce, 
 To tread the thorny path of trial, — 
 
 To lose itself, in alien losses. 
 And stoop, nor deem it self-denial, 
 
 To lift and bear another's crosses ! 
 
 Her love to every living thing 
 Celestial benison would bring; 
 The gentle glances of her eves 
 Tell of communion with the skies; 
 And all along the narrow way, 
 That broadens into perfect day, 
 Her lips are almoners, whose smile 
 Wins through its innocence of wile; 
 
ANGELA. 47 
 
 Vi>v ill her soul, IxMiiiiiily l)l('iit, 
 AlioNc the sliriiic of pure intent, 
 The oriental Ixanis of" ti'uth 
 Illumine still the dew of youth, 
 Divinely sent at dawn to dower 
 With priceless })earls so sweet a flower! 
 
 OI were there many such as she, 
 
 I^late, a«ilow with love divine, 
 
 ( )ii our benighted ways to shine. 
 How beautiful this life would be! 
 Faith, Hope and Charity like hers 
 Should fill the world with worshippers! 
 With faces where all graces blend, — 
 With spirits luminous to lend 
 The glory of supernal spheres 
 To gluldeii this sad ''vale of tears," 
 And make the sin-accursed clod 
 A ylorious footstool for its God ! 
 Then, were the fields bereft of flowers, 
 Through dearth of sunshine or of showers, 
 The winter-blight, the summer-scath. 
 Alike would vanish from their path; 
 
48 AWJELA. 
 
 For birds and brooks again would sing 
 Wlierever they were wandering, 
 
 And, bourgeoning to burst its gloom, 
 The arid waste would soon resume, 
 As in the genial warmth of Spring, 
 The blushes of its vernal bloom : 
 Their smiles, their tears might well suffice 
 To make the wild — a Paradise! 
 
SUNSET. 
 
 I_J<)\\ spkiiclidly those yet iinpurj)le(l cloiid.-. 
 
 I'diish as they float into intenser floods 
 ( )i' siiuset-<;-I(»\v! Pure fleece heeoiiics pure o;()ld- 
 (lold that, anon, ])(irpliyrou('ne ap[)ears: 
 'I'int into tint, oi- flashes now, or fades, 
 Turkois and topaz softly interfuse. 
 And t2:arnet, kindling, into ruby burns; 
 Until yon Titan-gronj) of thunder-crags, 
 That gather glooni to intercej^t the light, — 
 Colossal shapes, thrown into hold relief 
 l)y the I'efulgence of the Occident, — 
 As tliougli convulsed by fierce intestine fires. 
 Dissolve their solemn league: each beetling brow 
 A lurid lustre wears; each shaggy breast 
 Is seared and seamed with sanguinary scars; 
 And tVoni a chasm, cleft in their bloodv base, — 
 That yawns, a dread aj)ocaIypse of hell, — 
 In long, red, forked, wildly flickering tongues, 
 I'^iamcs, as from Tophet, leap! 
 
FIRESIDE FANCIES. 
 
 TD ING-WORMS of fire in chininev-soot 
 
 From single scintillations shoot ; 
 Each separate sparkle, ere it dwindles, 
 A wider conflagration kindles, — 
 Ignites incendiary tinder, 
 Then dies into a sable cinder: 
 Afloat, in fiery revolntion, 
 The riddle still defies solution; 
 For all are always changing places. 
 And t»ne, it seems, another chases. 
 Itself pnrsued — nntil pursuing 
 Ends in reciprocal undoing. 
 A wing6d, wanton, wizard rout, 
 On glowing feet they glide about. 
 Again, and yet again renewing 
 Theii" mazy waltzes in and out, — 
 Reluming now their earlier ashes 
 With fitful, evanescent flashes; 
 
Fii;i;sii)i; I'.vNcrios. 
 
 51 
 
 rmil, tli(iiiu,li wintry is the night, 
 My l^'niKy takes a Suiiiincr iiig'ht, 
 And sees tVoni out the (hisk arise 
 A sliiinnierinii' swarm of fii'e-Hies! 
 
 All! Heetino-, Hnetuating- tires! 
 
 lie who your hriUiauey a(hnires 
 
 Is saddened hy the thought that springs 
 
 From traeini'- your nieanderings, 
 
 As end)ers ye have h'ft resume 
 
 Tlie mantk' of j)i-imeval ulooiu ! 
 Ve type the visionary beams 
 
 That tinted youth's elysian dream.s, 
 
 Or, blent in grand auroras, lent 
 
 Rose-color to Its lirmament; 
 
 For all unconscious that I dreamed, 
 
 And realizing all that seenuKl, 
 
 1 wandered then through realms of flowers, 
 
 Or gazed in unite delight for hours, 
 
 While life (a new kaleidoscope 
 
 Revolving in the hands of Hope) 
 
 Entranced me — at each turn tniiolding 
 
 Xew l)Qauties to a new beholding! 
 
ST. VALENTINE'S DA Y. 
 
 TTIDDEN no longer 
 
 In moss-covered ledges, 
 Starring the wayside, 
 
 Under the hedges, 
 Violet, Pimpernel, 
 
 Flashing with dew, 
 Daisy and Asphodel 
 
 Blossom anew. 
 
 Down in the bosky dells 
 Everywhere, 
 
 Faintly their fairy bells 
 Chime in the air. 
 
 Thanks to the sunshine ! 
 Thanks to the showers ! 
 
 They come again — bloom again- 
 Beautiful flowers! 
 
ST. \-ai,i;niim; s \^.\\. 
 
 Tw ittcriiiii' sj)arn>\vs Hit 
 
 Mcri'ily l)y ; 
 SUyhirks triiiiii|)li;iiitly 
 
 \\ arl)l(' oil lii^li : 
 Kclio, wlio ,sluiul)ers 
 
 So loiio- in the u'lcn, 
 Awakens to iniiiiic 
 
 The son^' of the w ren : 
 !''or. thanks to the smiheainsl 
 
 Thanks to tlie slioweis! 
 Thc\' 1)11(1 apiiii — l)h)oiii aii'aiii- 
 
 Ik'autit'ul HowersI 
 
 The nioeking-l)inl, too — 
 
 The sweetest of" mimes- 
 is prodiu'al now 
 
 ( )t" Ills juhikiiii rhymes! 
 And my lieart is so light, 
 
 So eheery to-duv, 
 I fancy I hear, 
 
 In his rapturons hiy, 
 The music I (h'camed 
 
 In those radiant liours, 
 
54 ST, valentine's day. 
 
 M'lieii Love to my heart 
 
 (Like Spring to her bowers) 
 
 First eanie to awaken 
 Hope's beautiful flowers! 
 
77//; lAWr ESTATE. 
 
 \KT\\VAU': the deadly Niohtsliadc urow; 
 
 \\ lu'i'c oriin shadows now repose, 
 Oiiee the inoriiiiiii' stars ai'o.se, 
 
 111 tlie golden olden time. 
 
 I'^iirv foot-prints sj)ark'led there; 
 Heavenly nnisie tilled the air; 
 I)arkne!5.s, Silenee antl ]\'spair 
 
 Fled on noiseless i-aven ])lnnies. 
 
 Sprint: awoke the dreaniinu il(»wers; 
 IJirds, in hvnieneal bowers, 
 Saiiu' away the hahyon hours, 
 
 ( )n the hvaeinthine slioi'e. 
 
 I^ove and Beauty, hand in hand, 
 Wandered tlirough this wonder-land, - 
 Kinn and (^ueen, at whose eonnuand 
 All its teeniinii' treasures law 
 
56 THE LOST ESTATE. 
 
 Then their hearts no sorrow knew, 
 For their love was warm and true, — 
 Fields were green and skies were blue; 
 Life was rosy with i-oniance. 
 
 Lordlv mansions they possessed, 
 In this " i.^land of the blessed," 
 By enamored waves caressed 
 
 Into slumber on the deep. . 
 
 Never, in her wildest flight, 
 Gleamed on Fancy's eager sight 
 Fairer gardens of delight. 
 
 Or ill (Jloud-land or Cathay! 
 
 How the Desolation came; — 
 Whether Pestilence or Flame, — 
 War or Famine were to blame, 
 
 No one, living now, may say : 
 
 Voyagers, on passing ships, 
 Whisper yet, with whitened lips, 
 Of the wan and weird eclipse 
 
 Fallen on that high estate. 
 
nil-: i,(>si- KsrATK. 
 
 I\'li lit" ci'iicl lust tor ii(»l(l ; 
 
 HcMiity liatilianl, — Love iirown cold, 
 
 And disastt'i's iiiaiiit'old, 
 
 Wastiiiu' tlu' cncliaiitcd isle. 
 
 *■ 
 
 Ivy frets the })alaee wall; 
 
 ( rtiinhling arch and coliinni fall; 
 
 •Mould and eanker over all 
 
 Hold a <iliostly earni\al. 
 
 Liii'ht and nuisic flown awav, 
 
 In tlie courts no fountains plav; — 
 
 Death has undisputed sway 
 
 From the mountains to the sea. 
 
 All! had Love his truth maintained 
 Then his kiuiixhtni had remained, 
 And his dynasty ha<l reiirned 
 
 ( )'er that Aidenn evermore! 
 
AN IDEAL SIESTA. 
 
 Wliile I nocUle<l, nearly napping." 
 
 The Rmci. 
 
 ' I "*HE drowsy liiini of tlic niurniuring bees, 
 
 Hovering over the lavender trees, 
 Steals through lialf-shut lattices, — 
 As awake or sleep, I scarce know which, 
 I hizily loll near a window-niche. 
 Whose gossamer cnrtains are softly stirred 
 By the gauzy wings of a humming-bird. 
 
 From airy heights, the feathery down, 
 
 Blown from the nettle's nodding crown, 
 
 Weary with wandering everywhere, 
 
 Sails slowly to earth through the sultry air ; 
 
 While indolent zephyrs, oppressed with perfume, 
 
 Stolen from many a balmy bloom. 
 
 Are falling asleep within the room. 
 
AN 1|)|:AI, SIIISTA. 
 
 .')!> 
 
 Now tl(i:itiiiL;, aliir, ni)\v liuvcriii!^' iicnr, 
 
 l)iill to tlu' rvc ;in<l (liiiiil) to tlic v.w, 
 
 (irow the >li:i|)('s tliat I sec, the sounds tliat I licar; 
 
 KvciA- iiiiirniiir around dies iuto uiy dfcaiu, 
 
 Save only the son"- of a sylvan stirani, 
 
 WIhw l)urdc'n, set to a somnolent tunc, 
 
 Mas lulled the whispering leaves of" June. 
 
 All thiuiis ai'c hazy, and di-eainy, and dim; 
 riic llics in lazier cii'cles swim; 
 ( )ii slunil)erous wings, on muffled feet, 
 Iniaginaiy sounds retreat; 
 And the clouds — Elysian isles that lie 
 In the l)rioht blue sea of Summer sky- 
 Fade ■ out, before niv closiuir eve. 
 
ODE TO SLEEP. 
 
 /'"^OME, gentle Sleep! and hither bring- to me 
 
 The beetle's drone, the buzzing of the bee, — 
 All slunib'rous .-rounds whieh Silenee lovo\s to hear, — 
 Which steal like balm into the drowsy ear. 
 I^et Summer rain fall softly from the eaves, 
 While fragrant ze})hyrs whisper through the leaves. 
 
 II. 
 
 To every care some sweet nepenthe bring — 
 Benumb each sense — bid sorrow cease to sting; 
 From dreandess rest let him awake no more, 
 Who only lives existence to deplore; 
 Haste! Siren, haste! low lullabies to sing. 
 Until I die beneath the shadow of thv wing! 
 
ODK To SLKKI'. 
 
 (il 
 
 [II. 
 
 Haste, sootliiiii;- Sleep! hriiig' witli tliec iioisele.- 
 
 Xight, 
 Vi)\- 1 would now 11(1 more helKtld the liijllt, 
 Since (law II of day comes onlv to Wetrav 
 Hope's brio-litest blossoms witheriiiii' awav, — 
 I'liveils b(>tore nnsympatliizing- eyes, 
 A heart whose woe no maskiiio- mav (lisguise, — 
 (immerian i>;looni — Egyptian shadow, now, 
 ("hase the accursed sunlitiht from mv brow! 
 
PERDITE. 
 
 TT^AREWELL forever to the dreams, 
 (Alluring- dreams!) whose iitful light 
 
 Revealed a land where sorroA\ 's night 
 Can never veil the golden beams 
 
 Of life, and hope, and love! 
 
 Farewell To Heaven! Why linger now, 
 In wild regret, before The CVoss? 
 'Tis powerless: Eternal loss 
 
 Cori'odes my heart, — seals on my brow 
 The blaekness of (lesj)air. 
 
 What (!ai'e I now, how long the tire 
 (X life within my bosom burns, 
 Sinee Mercy now no more returns ; 
 
 But lets each lingering hope expire, 
 And N'cils her lovelv face? 
 
PKUDrn:. 
 
 (;;; 
 
 All I w hal to iiic is wealth or fame', 
 A siiiihcaiii ulittcriiio- oil a |)all: 
 I'^roiii some liioli pinnacle to Tall 
 
 I'o lca\(' on earth an enx-ied name, 
 And then — to pass away. 
 
 l^'arewell ! farewell I 1 ina\ not sta\- 
 
 Where Hope's last "rare and radiant Hower" 
 
 To ashes fell: — in that sad hour, 
 The golden .sunlit>'lit fled awav 
 And left Eternal Shade! 
 
PIT AND FENDULU3L 
 
 ' I ^HE poets say there is a goklen chain, 
 
 Binding onr planet to the throne of God, 
 Whose burnished links unbroken yet remain, 
 
 Though earth — no more by shining seraphs trod — 
 Is swinging madly o'er a dread al)yss: 
 Should some malignant spirit sunder this, — 
 Should this frail chord of sympathy be riven, 
 And our lost world, by gravitation driven, 
 Plunge through the outer dark, impenitent, un- 
 
 sh riven, — 
 Who coidd, in one wild syllable, portray 
 The speechless horror of that direful day, 
 When light first wings its everlasting flight, 
 And the lost plummet sounds the ghastly gloom of 
 
 nioht? 
 
I'lr AM) I'lONDlLrM. (if) 
 
 II. 
 
 A soiil whose j)rayer.s, like iiiccusc from the sod, 
 
 Wlicii Howers awaken with the dawn of" S|)rini>-, 
 Arose in child-like earnestness to (Jod, — 
 
 Whose eovert was the shadow of His wino-; 
 Who l)ore the cross, — eauuht glimpses of the crown, 
 But iiTowini;- weary, laid his burden down; 
 Who clung- in safety to a golden chain, 
 Endued with strength the feeblest to sustain. 
 While they in God an humble trust retain; 
 J5ut who, alas! in an unguarded hour, 
 hisanely yielding to the tempter's power, 
 Bade hope for all futurity farewell. 
 And fell to iiithoni an ai)ostate's hell, — 
 Who — who but one, thus falling, could portray 
 The tongui^less terror of that awful day, 
 When light first wings its everlasting flight, 
 And the lost phunmet sounds the sullen gloom of 
 niffht ? 
 
RQ8E AND BUTTERFLY 
 
 T^RFj we saw the Summer sun, 
 
 111 a shroud a worm had spun, 
 I, — like kernel of a nut, — 
 Lay in utter darkness shut: 
 
 And the red Rose in the germ, 
 Dormant through the wintry term, 
 Dwelt, from day as deeply hid 
 As I, ill my chrysalid. 
 
 Spring-time resurrection brought. 
 Far transcending human thought, — 
 Far surpassing human might, — 
 Out of shadow, into light. 
 
 Subtle forces in the gloom, 
 Wrought our rescue from the tomb; 
 
HOSH AM) I5rTTi;UFI,V. 
 
 Silent, yet most potent, tliev 
 Kolleil for ns the stone awav, — 
 
 lirokc the rit>;i(l l);inds of death; 
 J^reathed revivifvinp- breath ; 
 (iravc the Hose a fmtrranee meet 
 To pei'fiune the nieivv seat, — 
 
 And to me my noldeii wino-s, 
 In wlutse ])rai,se the })oet sing-s, 
 When tlie (|ueenh'e.st of flowers 
 \Voos me to her musky bowers. 
 
 07 
 
 Risen, like Our J^ord, indeed ! 
 Glorious ehan(»;e for worm and seed! 
 Sown in weakness, raised in ])owei-, 
 r.o! the l^utterHv! — the Flower! 
 
THE .MOTHER'S PRAYER. 
 
 "But He answered and said, It is not meet to take the ehildreii's 
 bread and to oast it to dogs. 
 
 "And she said. Truth, Lord : yet the dogs eat of the orunib.s which 
 fall from their master's table." — St. Matt. xv. 26, 27. 
 
 "n^RUTH, Lord : it is not meet 
 
 That Thou sliouldst give me bread ; 
 Yet famished dogs where children eat, 
 May on their crumbs be fed. 
 
 " I may not let Thee go 
 
 While I have heart to pray ; 
 Nor wilt Thou hear me pleading so, 
 
 And east me quite away. 
 
 " They say that Thou canst save, 
 
 And I for mercy call : 
 No crumbs to me Thy children gave, 
 
 But Thou art Lord of all. 
 
THI-: MOTIIKIl's I'HAYKK. ()i> 
 
 " W'xcd l»y luy soiv distress, 
 
 'Send licf away!' they crv; 
 \vt tlirouii-h the iiiiii-iuiiriuii' tliroiig I press, 
 
 Low at Tliy l"cct to lie! 
 
 " Rebuke has chilled luy Iieart; 
 
 But J>(ird, how dare I brook, 
 li" homeward, hopeless, I dej)art, 
 
 My frenzied daughter's look? 
 
 ".V tire burns in her Ijrain, 
 
 And fiends torment her soul ; 
 All other help I've sought in vain : 
 
 Lord, make my daughter whole!" 
 
 Prone on the earth she lay, 
 
 Clutehino; the Master's ffown. 
 And turned her tortured face away, 
 
 Lest even Pie should frown ! 
 
 Then all grew still as death; 
 
 They who had gathered there, 
 Like her, await with bated breath 
 
 The answer to the prayer. 
 
70 THE mother's prayer. 
 
 A face divinely sweet — 
 The human face divine — 
 
 Beams o'er the sujipliant at His feet 
 A radiance benign. 
 
 In having accents He 
 
 The woman's faith commends: 
 "Even as thou wilt, so let it be," — 
 
 The benediction ends. 
 
 Abashed, His followers stood, 
 Then reverently made way 
 
 For her of alien speech and blood 
 They had des})ised that day. 
 
 And rugged hands were brushed 
 O'er eyes that seldom wept, 
 
 As home that joyful mother rushed- 
 Where, lo ! her daughter slept ! 
 
 How should this story cheer 
 Sinner, no less than saint. 
 
 To call on him while He is near — 
 To pray and never faint. 
 
I'liK MoTiiKi; s I'i;a\i:i;. 
 
 'r<i-(l:iv, as ycslcrday. tlio same, 
 I \f heeds the nioiii'iier's crv ; 
 
 To seek — to save the lost He eaiiic — 
 l''l\' — to 1 1 is hosoiii II v! 
 
VIOLETS. 
 
 " A violet by a mossy stone, 
 Half-hidden from the eye." 
 
 AVORDSWOKTH. 
 
 TN unfrequented places, 
 
 Where sunbeams cannot peep,- 
 Where Echo's faintest echo 
 
 Ts lying fast ask^ep, — 
 These timid woodland graces 
 
 From dewy leaves arise, 
 Unveil their modest faces. 
 
 Uplift their beaming eyes, 
 T^ess fearful in seclusion, 
 Of impudent intrusion, 
 
 Or surprise: 
 Yet each of these recluses. 
 
 While budding into bloom. 
 Unconsciously diffuses 
 Sweet perfume; 
 
VIOLKTS. 
 
 I-'or I re they sccin aware, 
 Tlu' ci'iiscrs which tlicy hear 
 RcN'eal luito the air 
 
 Where they dwell; 
 And the hroozcs, as thev hlow 
 
 '\(> and fro, 
 In sweetest odor tell 
 Of dinolc and of dell, 
 As yet imshone n])on 
 
 \\y the sun : 
 Tiiey ii'iiide, on eager feet, 
 I'o the sliadowy retreat 
 
 Of the Xnn, 
 A 11 will) love to stan<l 
 Awhile on holy land ; 
 Who feel assiurd again — 
 So long as these remain — 
 That Innocence, on earth, 
 
 Yet lingers, loth to fly; 
 Vaunts not her heaveidy l)irth 
 
 To heedless passers by, 
 
 Nor Avholly hides her worth 
 
 From Ijove's observant eye; 
 J 
 
74 vroi>ETs. 
 
 But waits to droj) in dtatli, 
 
 Terrestial disguise, 
 When, with the parting breath, 
 
 A radiant seraph flies! 
 
 Alas! too often we 
 
 Externals only, see; 
 
 Look with disdainful eyes 
 
 On those in lowly guise; 
 
 Nor know until they disappear 
 
 That puardian aniiels hovered near! 
 
THE STAR ABOVE THE MANGER. 
 
 ■■ VikI. lo, tlu' star w hiili tliry siiw in tlu- i-ast, went liclun- tluiii till 
 il caiiic an<l stood over wluie the youiin' oliil'l was." 
 
 St. Matt. \u.. \k 
 
 C~\W\ night, wliilc lowly shepherd swaii 
 
 Their fleecy eharjie attended, 
 .\ light .-^hoiie (t'er -ludea's plains 
 I iiutterahly splendid. 
 
 I'"ar in the (iu.-^ky ( )rient, 
 
 A star, nnhnown in story, 
 Arose to flood the flrnianient, 
 
 \\'ith more than nu)rnin<>- glorv. 
 
 The elnsterinir eonstellations, erst 
 
 So olorionsly o-lcaniing, 
 Waned, w hen its sudden splendor hnrst 
 
 r|)on their palei" l)eaniing: 
 
ii) THE STAK ABOVE THE :\rAN(iER. 
 
 And Heaven drew nearer Earth that night, 
 Flung- wide its pearly portals, — 
 
 Sent forth, from all its realms of light. 
 Its radiant immortals: 
 
 They hovered in the golden air, 
 Their golden eensers swinging, 
 
 And woke the drowsy shepherds there 
 With their seraphic singing. 
 
 Yet Earth, to greet her gala day. 
 
 No jubilee was keeping; 
 I^neonseious of the light, she lay, 
 
 In silent beauty, sleeping. 
 
 No more shall brightest cherubim. 
 
 And stateliest archangels, 
 Symphonious, sing such choral hynui,- 
 
 Proclaim so SAveet evangels: 
 
 No more appear that star at eve. 
 Though glimpses of its glory 
 
TMK STAIt Al{0\'i; rilK MANCKi;. 
 
 Ai'f seen liy tlidsc wlio still believe 
 The sli('|)lier(ls' simple story. 
 
 Ill i'^uth's cleiir (inimnient afai", — 
 
 To riihelief a strant>;er, — 
 l-'orever u'lows the noldeii star 
 
 That stood above the manyvr. 
 
 A<i-e alter aire may roll away, 
 
 lUit on Time's rapid river 
 The liiilit of its celestial i"ay 
 
 Shall never eease to (jniver. 
 
 h'rail barges, on the swelliii<;- tide, 
 
 Are ilriftinu; with the ag-es ; 
 The skies «iTow dark, — around eaeh bark. 
 
 A howlinii- tempest rages! 
 
 Pale with affright, lost helmsmen steer. 
 While crcakino; thubers shiver; 
 
 The breakers roar, — grim Death is near,- 
 () who niav now deliver! 
 
7<S THE STAR ABOVE THE MANGER 
 
 Light, — lig'lit I'roiii the Heraldic Star 
 Breaks brightly o'er the bilhnv ; 
 
 The storm, rebuked, is tied afar, 
 The jiilgrini seeks his pillow. 
 
 Lost, — lost indeed, his heart must be, — 
 His way how dark with danger, — 
 
 Whose hooded eye may never see 
 The Star above the Manger! 
 
THE POET 8 AFTERTHOUGHT 
 
 A SOLILOC^T^Y. 
 
 ri)()I^r, rapt iVdiii mortal view, 
 
 ( ioldcii reveries renew; 
 Dav by (lay a dreamer be, 
 I 'iidei'iieatli the tamarind tree; 
 
 ( )r, beneath the full-faeed moon, 
 In the land of afternoon, 
 Feed npon the lotos, — then 
 Sing- for mermaids — not for men ! 
 
 Klf and fairy now belong- 
 To tin' infancy oi' song; 
 ( lorgon tind chimera dire 
 Xo trne poesy inspire: 
 
so THE P()p:t's afterthought. 
 
 If, beside enchanted streams, 
 Tliou erabracest in thv" dreams, 
 Sportive sylj)li, or naiad fair, 
 They will vanish into air: 
 
 In the iridescent glow, 
 On the bnbbles children blow, 
 See, thy evanescent thonght. 
 And the rapture it hath wrought ! 
 
 Of the sirens' song beware! 
 Toy not with Nesera's hairl 
 Leave to Corydon his Phyllis, 
 And to Oscar, — Amaryllis ! 
 
 If the man to meet the hour. 
 Fired with true poetic power. 
 In the present, — from the real, 
 Thou mayst win a'pure ideal. 
 
 Let the grand old masters rest; 
 Thine own garb beseems thee best; 
 On the plain of common sense. 
 Build for future eminence. 
 
TiiK i'okt's Ai"rKU'rii()r(;ii'r. .Si 
 
 Loyal to tliy noWlcr self". 
 Neither sin<i' for jiraise nor pelf"; 
 Seem to otliei's what thou art; — 
 Write thv poems tVoin tiiy heart I 
 
 Do thus, and thou nccd'st not fear 
 That thy name will disappear, 
 And the memories of men 
 Lose all tracery of thy pen. 
 
 Some will listen unto thee, 
 Artless thouo-h thv numbers be, 
 Charmed to iind in thein a voice 
 When thev sorrow or rejoice. 
 
 K 
 
PLEA OF THE PRODIGAL. 
 
 ■■ I have .sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no nior 
 worthy to be called thy son." St. Like xv., 21. 
 
 T^ATHER! from a far-off region, 
 
 Famished, I eome home to die; 
 Devil.s — and "their name was Leiiion,' 
 Failed to put this pur])ose by! 
 
 I, on husks, no more could hunger. 
 Yet I had not left the swine, 
 
 And had died a houseless alien 
 But for love of thee and thine ; 
 
 Love that smouldei-ed while I squandered 
 
 All my substance in excess; 
 Love that stung me while I wandered. 
 
 With unlanguaged bitterness; 
 
IM.KA oi' Tin: I'i;()I)I(;ai,. 
 
 Ldvc llint lived, sii|)|)r('ssc(l and liiddcii, 
 Tliroiiuli (he IVcii/v ol' despair; 
 
 Li)\c that Imr.-t ioi'tii all unhidden, 
 X'oieinii' hitt(>i' niidniiiht |)rayer; 
 
 That once more I inioht hehold tlioe: 
 Fathei'I — if thou vet he niiu< — 
 
 Let tiiine arms ai^ain enfold me — 
 
 Call once more the wanderer "Thine!" 
 
WILL. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 nPHE will to do originates the deed; 
 
 For will, or God's or man's, is thought at worl-c : 
 (jlod's will, His being's law immutable, 
 Creates, informs, maintains all things that be: 
 Could His creative will one moment sleep, — 
 (^ne instant know surcease of thought to do, — 
 All were undone that's done; God were undone; 
 Not chaos then, but nothingness would be 
 Where, erst, He wrought exponents of His thouglit 
 (xod, willing not, were God discrowned, dethroned, 
 And coextensive with the uni\-ei"se 
 Would be the formless void, — the dark inane. 
 Where viewless hands, by their own lustre veiled, 
 In the beginning, syllabled in stars 
 The Name Ineffable! 
 
CLOUDS Wrnr SILVKR ltnijvgs. 
 
 ■ 1 (lid iK.t en- : lli.ic (loos ii snh\c cloud 
 'ruin I'urth Irt silver liuiii}>- ou the Xislit.'' 
 
 "pLOUDS have silver lininos:" 
 Tims the Poet sings, 
 When our vain repinings 
 
 Rise to inurniurings; 
 But in the cloud above me, 
 
 Xo "silver" do I see; 
 Xow Poet, "an' you love me," 
 Prithee! shew it unto nie! 
 
 The words that you have spoken, 
 
 Perchance are very true, 
 T)Ut till the cloud be broken, 
 
 .Vnd inooidight [)eepeth through, 
 Thought of" a silver liniu"- 
 Awakens fresh repining; 
 
S6 CLOUDS WITH SILVER LIXIXGS. 
 
 For you must surely see, Sir, 
 Thougli truthful you may be, Sir, 
 The dark side is for me. Sir, — 
 The bright side is for you ! 
 
 Even were the lining golden, — 
 If it may not be beholden, — 
 Pray tell me, Mr. Poet, 
 ■ Is it comforting to know it, 
 Unless you mean to show it? 
 Your well-meant information 
 Gives me no consolation; 
 For the sky is none the brighter, 
 Nor the cloud a shade the lighter 
 
 Unto me. 
 From knowing that behind it, — 
 If I can ever find it, — 
 
 There may be 
 A sun that shines forever, 
 Which I, alas! may never 
 
 Chance to see! 
 
< i.oiDs Win I sii,\i:i; i,inin(;s. 
 
 XT 
 
 So (lark tlic cldiid that hovers 
 
 In my sUy to-nit;lit, 
 I caiiiiot think it covers 
 
 A sini>lc <>-k'ain of li^ht; 
 \o\\", [)rove your aphorism, — 
 
 If such, indeed, it bo, — 
 Dispel my skepticism, 
 
 ( )r prate no more to me! 
 To drive away each shade of doubt, 
 Prav, turn the (hirk cloud inside out I 
 
REVEILLE. 
 
 AWAKE! Arise! No longer be 
 
 A laggard in the race! 
 O thou who wouldst thy fellow free, 
 Burst first the chains which shackle thee- 
 
 Insignia of disgrace! 
 
 Arise, and muster all thy might ! 
 
 Stand foremost in the van ! 
 He who unfurls the flag of llight 
 Must march a hero in the %ht — 
 
 Must be, himself, a man! 
 
 To Arms! Let sluggards idly stand — 
 
 Let cravens skulk and cower! 
 'Tis thine to wield a battle-brand, 
 Whose touch will give to heart and hand 
 Iconoclastic power ! 
 
ki;vi:ilij:. 
 
 89 
 
 111 \;iiii iiiav stalwart toes assail 
 I'lic cliamjiioii of Riu;ht ; 
 l'\tr, |>aii(>j)lic'(l ill trij)l(' mail, 
 Tlic true ol' heart can never t'ail- 
 Ai-e iie\-er put to flight! 
 
NAB.CI8SUS. 
 
 " Pining with .sorrow, Niea faded, died, 
 liike a fair aloe, in its morning pride." 
 
 C'HATTERTON. 
 
 " The tale 
 Of young- NareissiLi;, and sad Echo's bale." 
 
 Keath. 
 
 TDINING for the beauty he 
 
 In himself alone could see, 
 Wan Narcissus, day by day. 
 Wasted wofully away: 
 Love-lorn Echo, all in vain, 
 Sought the self-enamored swain,— 
 Calling on his name again, 
 And again, until the woods, 
 In their wildest solitudes, — 
 Grown familiar with the strain — 
 Syllabled the sad refrain : 
 "O Narcissus! where art thou? 
 Dost, in frolic, hide thee now? 
 
NAIMISSrS. 
 
 All I tis cruel tliiis to stav 
 I'' roll! thine ICelm all the dav: 
 Kvi' the dreamy t\\ili<>ht .■^liadcs 
 Purple all the dewv o-lades, 
 'rriiant, show thy radiant face! 
 Hio tliee to our trysting-plaee!" 
 
 Sadly sanii" the son-o\v-ladeii, 
 \\'eary, wistful, wanderiiio- maiden; 
 Swiftly s|K'd the sparklino- river, — 
 
 S])ed the'silvery CVphissiis, — 
 Like an arrow from the quiver 
 
 Of the betuitiful Narcissus, 
 Heedless of the tears lie shed 
 At its fiir-off fountain-head. 
 
 Bendinu-, till his o-olden tresses 
 Floated Mith the water-cresses, 
 lie, athirst, had paused to drink 
 From the fountain's pebbly l)riid< ; 
 He but loitered there to lave, 
 In the pure pellucid wave, 
 
92 NARCissrs. 
 
 Forehead fairer than the sun 
 E'er before had shone upon. 
 
 Hapless child of i^ir and Tell us! 
 Thou that madest Juno jealous! 
 Seek no further to discover 
 Footprints of thy faithless lover! 
 In the blue, inverted skies, 
 vStar-like splendors greet his eyes; 
 Echo's eye no more may please, — 
 In himself, himself he sees: 
 When the beauteous phantom first 
 (^n his ravished vision burst, 
 He, mayhap, was not aware 
 His own face was mirrored there: 
 In the crystal depths, alas ! 
 He but saw, as in a glass, — 
 Lips disparted, cheeks aglow. 
 Flushed, for all the world, as though 
 Roses were about to blow, 
 Which had budded in the snow. 
 
XARCI.S8US. !>;} 
 
 All I Narcissus, the confusion — 
 Rc|)lication — inx'oliition 
 ( )(" tliose false and real li'lances 
 Self-idolatry cnlianccs: 
 Kvon .should a chance beholder, 
 P('c|)ing, unseen, o'er thy .shoulder, 
 Xow e.^say the true to sunder 
 From their s^lmn/dcra under 
 \\'ater, flushinn- into wine 
 With each ro.sy blu.sh of thine, 
 He would die in the endeavor. 
 An idolater forever! 
 
 Still, the eidolon thou viewe.st 
 Thou with thine own life enduest; 
 Smiles and dim])les more endearinji', 
 In the fountain reappearing, 
 Till the fatal fascination 
 Of thy .self-infatuation 
 \\ eaves a wel) of subtler tissue 
 Thau Arachne's loom may issue; 
 Spell whence there is no awaking; 
 ( "hain there is no hope of breaking; 
 
i)4 NARCISSUS. 
 
 Strong as those that bind the gory 
 Martyr of the mythic story 
 To the l)oetling, bleak, Caucasian 
 Crag of an immortal jiassion ! 
 
 Who may fittingly express 
 Such unreal loveliness? 
 Who, with truthful touch, may trace 
 Pictures, vocal of the grace 
 Whicli informs the phantom there? 
 Sylvan gods may never chase 
 Nymph or naiad with a face 
 So ethereally fair; 
 Never woo to their embraces — 
 Three in one — the sister Graces ! 
 
 Timorous as a gazelle, — 
 Fleet of foot as Asahel, 
 ■ Fantasy forever flies 
 Eagerness to realize : 
 Who may indicate the ending, 
 Or bew-inninir of the blendino', 
 
NAKCISSrS. 1).') 
 
 N'vcii, several lines that slumiuer 
 111 a laiiiltow iirowiiiii,' (limiiier'.' 
 
 \\ lid unravel o|)alesecnc(' 
 
 III its \-erv evaneseeiu'C? 
 Who dispart the tints that glinuner 
 In the taint illnsion kindled 
 Vav a real splendor dwindled — 
 < )r npon a snnlit linhble 
 '{^•aee an iris — then its douhle? 
 Still more t'ntile his essay, 
 Mho wonld vividlv ])ortray 
 I low the youth — himself a shade, — 
 And his apparition fade, 
 Like I he transitory irleani 
 ( )f a dream within a dream. 
 
 Metaphor may not define 
 Stejilth of o-radual decay — 
 Toyinir with its tortured prey — 
 Growth of shade, decrease of shine, 
 Narcissus, in those eyes of thine! 
 Alas! that one so voiino; — so feir — 
 
96 NARCISSUS. 
 
 80 radiant in his golden hair, 
 Dies in self-love, of self-despair! 
 
 Of Eeho, in the reedy lake, 
 In the tangled hazel brake, 
 In the green hearts of the dells. 
 In the hollow oeean shells. 
 Only now an echo dwells; 
 And where young Narcissus died. 
 Bending o'er the glassy tide, 
 Blooms a solitary flower: 
 Beauty is its natal dower; 
 Fair and fragile is its bloom. 
 Faint and fleeting its perfume. 
 And it ever leans to look 
 At its shadow^ in the brook. 
 
 Shouldst thou, like Narcissus, guess 
 Half of thine own loveliness; 
 Though his fate were surely thine. 
 Echo's never would be mine ! 
 Shouldst thou half thy charms discover, 
 Maiden, peerless as thou art. 
 
NARCISSUS. 97 
 
 Hope w.iiild (|i-(Mi|) witliiii thy lover, — 
 
 I >ic iijHiii his I(iy:il heart ; 
 Love, thoiinh mine, with hope would perish; 
 
 I, with life itself would ])art. 
 Sooner than survive to cherisli 
 
 Thee, as othei- than thou art ! 
 Knowing- all thou wort before, 
 Self thou learnedst to adore; 
 Seeinu' what thou then woiddst be, 
 I no more eould bend the knee: 
 Love, thoun-h mine, would not retain 
 Fond regret for one so vain. 
 Longer than the fountain ke})t 
 ( )n its bosom, ripples made 
 By the tears Xai-eissus Avept, 
 
 ^^'llen, by self, to self betrayed, 
 In the sparkling depths below. 
 He beheld the rosy slow 
 Waning on his cheeks of snow; 
 While, from out his haggard eyes, 
 
 All the light that in them lay, 
 Like the tints of twilidit skies. 
 Faded mournfully a^av! 
 
 M 
 
SALAD FOR LENT. 
 
 r\ FOR Ininiility, 
 
 Deep and abiding! 
 From sin and from self 
 
 Forever dividing; 
 Doing good everywhere, 
 
 Yet the doers concealing; 
 God's bonnty, Christ's beanty 
 
 Exalting, — revealing ; 
 Content to be nameless, 
 
 Unportioned and lowly, 
 If He, whom we honor, — 
 
 The High and the Holy — 
 Will only impart 
 
 His strength to our weakness, 
 And use us to save, 
 
 In the spirit of meekness, 
 
S.\F,AI) FOI! LKXT. 99 
 
 Other souls fnnii the depths 
 
 \\'hciice we were delivei'ed, 
 And chiiiiis which His hand 
 
 ( )iiiiii]»(»(eiit shivered ! 
 
 Christ einjjtied Jliiuself 
 
 Of" His olorv to save us, 
 And shall we not herald 
 
 Tlie o-raee tliat He gave us? 
 Hath He freely forgiveji 
 
 Our grievous transgressious, 
 And made us joint heirs 
 
 To His ])rieeless possessions, 
 That we should dccni Heaven 
 
 A close eorporation, 
 And, pitiless, witness 
 
 A brother's damnation? 
 If" he fall by the way, 
 
 Shall we scorn to perceive him? — 
 Like Levite and priest. 
 
 Let a stranger relieve him? 
 If thus ue regard 
 
 A neighbor's disaster, 
 
100 SALAD FOR LENT. 
 
 Then, what is our spirit, 
 And who is our Master? 
 
 Mint and rue we may tithe, — 
 
 Hollow forms we may cherish ; 
 We may garnish the tombs 
 
 Of the prophets, yet perish ; 
 We may sadden our features, 
 
 A fast to betoken, 
 And, — lest of our good 
 
 No praises be spoken, — 
 May trumpet our alms, 
 
 (3r lead in the praying, 
 Nor care for the sheep 
 
 In the wilderness straying; 
 Yet, each straggler will be 
 
 To the Good Shepherd dearer 
 Than the formalist here, 
 
 Who thinks he is nearer ; 
 Zeal for " Church," we may have. 
 
 But no love for the Savior, 
 Unless there be Christ 
 
 In the heart and behavior ! 
 
HE8PER. 
 
 •• What time tin- stMis first flocko.l into the blue 
 Holiiiid yuuiin Ilespcr, Slu'|)ln'i(l of llic eve." 
 
 T. B. Reai 
 
 I 'HI' l)rilli:iiit livening Star to-iiiji'lit 
 (Tltaius tlii-oiigh the dusky air; 
 A.< tliougli some seraph, m his flight, 
 Through the uncloiuled reahiis of liirht. 
 
 Had paused an iustant there, — 
 II;id paused, aud sileutly surveyed 
 
 The dreaniiug world l)eh)\v; 
 Then flown away to Eden's shade, 
 
 Where living waters flow\ 
 Methinks sonic bright unearthly gem 
 Fell from his flashing diadem, 
 F<)\\ when he w iiiged his flight afar, 
 
 Through the enejiauied air, 
 A light remained, — The Evening Star 
 
 Shone foi-th serenelv there! 
 
102 hespp:r. 
 
 'Tis thn.s the great — the good depart, 
 
 And leave a beacon light, 
 To cheer the pilgrim's drooping heart. 
 
 And guide his feet aright: 
 
 Hence we revere the sage, — the seer 
 
 Of every age and clime; 
 Whose priceless gems still sparkle here, 
 
 Upon the strand of time. 
 
HOPE OF HE A VEX. 
 
 " () wliiM-e shall ri'wl l)e I'ouikI, — 
 Kest for the weary soul?" 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 /^ THERE is naught u])on this earth of ours 
 
 The restless longings of the soul to fill: 
 W'v jKint for fairer fields and fresher flowers, 
 I'^ir ]turer fuiuitains still. 
 
 ()iif drooping soids, like captive eagles, })iiK' 
 
 To breathe, once niori', their native atmosphere, — 
 To soar above the eloud, where sunbeams shine 
 And shadows disa])pear. 
 
 h'or what are all the rosy, dazzling dreams. 
 
 The glowing hopes and fleeting joys of earth, — 
 Its lading smiles, its evaneseent gleams 
 Of happiness and mirth? 
 
104 HOPE OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Fnint, glimmering moonbeams ftilling on a pall, 
 
 Or lighting up the })athway to the tomb; 
 Wild flowers that blossom on a ruined wall; 
 Oases in the gloom ! 
 
 These are the joys of earth; but tell me where 
 
 Are its wild sorrows, its harassing fears? 
 Where are the clouds — the shades of dark despair, 
 That haunt this vale of tears? 
 
 O, where shall rest be found? — a stormy tide 
 
 Is rushing madly onward to the sea, 
 Immortal spirits down the current glide 
 Into Eternity. 
 
 Thrice happy he, to whom the change of time 
 
 And tide may leave one solitary rock, — 
 An Ararat, eternal and sublime, 
 Unshaken by the shock; 
 
 A Hope of Heaven, whose summit in the skies 
 
 (The only refuge of a ruined race) 
 Smiles through the storm — the swelling: surg^e defies, 
 And stands — a resting-place! 
 
WITHIN THE VEIL. 
 
 " And tlu' city had no need of tlie sun, iicitlicr of llic moon, to sliiuc 
 in it, for tlio slory of CJod did li{;hten it, and the I, ami) is I lie linlit 
 thereof." \iv.\ . xxi.. I'.i. 
 
 L ""ROM lioarv jx-aks of clii-vsolito, 
 
 W'liat "oklen i>:l()rv falls! 
 ^^ hat iiicaiidescent splendors Hame 
 
 Along' the jasper walls! 
 ( 1(1(1 and the ]jainl) forever reign, — 
 
 Trinne Shehinah tills 
 The New Jernsalem which crowns 
 The everlasting hills! 
 
 Transcending poet's purest dream, 
 
 ( )r i)i'ophet's rapt desire, 
 In light and loveliness supreme, 
 
 Her palaces aspire; 
 Their porticoes and corridors 
 
 Are resonant of song, 
 And through their radiant portals stream 
 
 A glad immortal throng! 
 
 X 
 
10() WITHIN THE VKIL. 
 
 ( ) for a hand to rend tlic veil 
 
 From human hearts and eyes! 
 That Faitli may view, though Sense should fail 
 
 The mansions in the skies! 
 One glimpse within the gates of pearl 
 
 Our laggard zeal would spur, 
 For Christ, to beggar earth of gold, 
 
 And frankincense, and myrrh ! 
 
PROEMIAL STANZAS 
 
 ■{'{) A I'OKM IJKCITED UEFOHE THE " LADIKs' M KMo- 
 ItlAL association" OF ItAEEKMI, N. ('., 1807. 
 
 T V au^lit that ] liave ever said or sung 
 
 May cause one more memorial iiower to bloom 
 \\ here [)laintive harps, on Southern willows jiunu,. 
 Wail, Memnou-liUe, amid })erpetual gloom ; 
 
 Where, l)owe(l with bleeding heart and eye of stone. 
 
 The South, a nobler Niobe, appears, 
 Murmurs, with ([uivering ii|)s, "Thy will be done!'" 
 
 And seeks relief" from agony, in tears; 
 
 If w hen her trembling hands, unclasped from ])rayer, 
 r»egiu the light of votive flowers to shed, 
 
 Exhaling sweets — illumining the air. 
 
 Above the graves of her Confederate dead. 
 
ins PROEM! AL STANZAS. 
 
 She eliaiK'C to touch and haply intertwhie, 
 
 Mid flowers ot" bahiiier breath and happier hue, 
 
 A daisy or forget- uie-not of mine, 
 
 That erst, unnoticed, by the wayside grew; 
 
 This — tliis would be far dearer than the meed 
 Of praise awarded to the festive strain, 
 
 lUown from a ])ipe of CW'olina reed, 
 
 Whic-h, at your bidding, I awake again! 
 
A VEliNAL REVEIUE. 
 
 ' I 'HE air is l):iliii, for cartli is all abloom; 
 
 Tlu' li'cnial skies l)('iii<»'iilv hciit ahoxc iiic, 
 A> yi't uiisiillit'd by a tinge of gloom, 
 
 Seem, as in cai'liiT, hetter days, to love me. 
 
 I'lie rugged hills wear emei'ald careanets; 
 
 The woodlaiid-wilds are starred with bright oases, 
 W lu're daisies l)lo\v, and virgin violets, 
 
 Within the leaves, half-hide their conseions faces. 
 
 The sweet South wind, now winnowing mv hair, 
 Sways, to and fro, the tender meadow-grasses, — 
 
 (ireeu in the gloom, but growing golden where 
 The sunbeam liglitens when the shadow passes. 
 
 Nature, to-day, would woo to her embrace 
 The scanty mite of good tliat lingers in me, 
 
 And, iiy the witching beauty of her face, 
 
 i'^'om wonted gloom, to g^rateful sunshine, win me. 
 
no A VERNAL KEVI<:KIE. 
 
 I gaze and gladden, though oppressed by fear, 
 
 Lest cares, now banished, should too soon surround 
 me; 
 Put out the light my heart would garner here. 
 
 And weld again the chains wherewith they bound 
 me. 
 
 My plahitive harp (whose chords of sombre tone 
 Awake responsive to the touch of sadness,) 
 
 Attuned, erewhile, to threnody alone. 
 
 Has long been mute to madrigals of gladness; — 
 
 In vain essays, in soft idyllic sirains, 
 
 To sing of laughing Spring a rhythmic story, 
 
 To tell how she has visited our plains. 
 And clad them in a garniture of glory; 
 
 How every spot of earth hei" fairy feet 
 
 Have kissed, with lissome step, is greenly glowing. 
 Or, how her smiles have thawed the wintry sleet. 
 
 And set the ice-bound fountains freely flowing. 
 
A VKiJNAi, i;i:vKi:ii:. 
 
 Ill 
 
 I li(';ir tlir l)i-(»(ik>, that l):il)l)l(' as tlicv ii'o, — 
 
 Prattliiiii' to flowers that lilossoiii on their borders, 
 
 Tell how she <iiielle(l her imiiieiuorial loe, — 
 \\ iled fVoiu her realm his insolent niai'auders. 
 
 But J may not translate, with tuneless tongue, 
 The vernal music all around me ringing-; 
 
 l"'or hirds sing now, as birds in Eden sung, — 
 h^nougli lor me, to listen to the singing! 
 
ABIDE WITH US. 
 
 r\ LORD, Our Righteousness! 
 
 Abide with us, that Ave, 
 HcncefV»rth, somehow — soniewliere, 
 May minister to Thee! 
 
 In tender merev deign 
 
 To hearken to our prayer, 
 
 And hel}) us, as for Thee, 
 Eaeh otliers' burden bear; 
 
 Then will Ave feel and know 
 That we indeed are Thine, 
 
 And draw our life from Thee, 
 As branehes of The A^ine. 
 
 Could we but daily bring 
 
 Balm to Thy wounded feet, — 
 
 Though they should scowl or sneer, 
 Who sit in Moses' seat; — 
 
AIUDK Willi cs. 
 
 ( 'oiiM souK'thiim- '^''^^ <»i" •!<), 
 Or siiti;T Lord to show 
 
 ^\'(' comil all tjiinus |„,t loss, 
 riicc, — only Tlico — to know 
 
 IVA 
 
 Then would our licart rejoice, 
 However roiio'li the way, 
 
 Till on our darkness (hiwiis 
 The lio-ht of perfect dav ! 
 
DANDELIONS. 
 
 T OWLY Dandelion, 
 
 Blowing at my feet! 
 I thy cheery presence, 
 
 \yith a song, wonld greet ; 
 For the Avorld seems fairer 
 
 Unto me to-day, 
 All because thou beamest 
 
 By the dusty May ! 
 
 Even, in the Winter, 
 
 They may find who look 
 For thee in the shelter 
 
 Of" some grassy nook ; 
 When, with waning Summer. 
 
 liose and lily fade, 
 Blooming still, thou makest 
 
 Sunshine in the glade. 
 
DAXDKMOXS. 115 
 
 \\'li('rc tliy yellow blossoms, 
 
 UnderMcatli the; trees, 
 Twinkle mid the shadows, — 
 
 Floral rieiades!— 
 Here and there, a golden 
 
 Coronet I miss; 
 There hath been a stellar 
 
 Metamor[)h()sis! 
 
 Some have lilmy, silver 
 
 Diadems of down, — 
 ]More tiian one ^Nlerope 
 
 Wears a fainter crown ! 
 Yet, your constellation 
 
 Seemeth ever new, — 
 Fresher blooms appearing 
 
 Where the missin<r i^rew. 
 
 Wayside graces, merely ! 
 
 Yet our children know 
 Field and lane are brighter 
 
 Where ye bud and blow; 
 
116 DANDELIONS. 
 
 And by them your win.soinc 
 Faces still are seen, 
 
 When we prize no longer 
 Gold u]ion the green. 
 
 Ye are emblematic 
 
 Of the bounties we, 
 Ev^ery day receiving. 
 
 Seldom deign to see; — 
 Gifts we deem, it may be, 
 
 No thanksgiving worth, — 
 What if we should find them 
 
 Nevermore on earth? 
 
 What if — undiscerning: — 
 
 We a love receive, 
 And, no love returning. 
 
 Loving hearts should grieve, 
 May not lack of loving 
 
 Shame these hearts of ours, 
 When a resurrection 
 
 Cometh to the flowers? 
 
RAINBOW OF REVELATION. 
 
 " And In- lliat .--at was to look upon like a JafiptT aiul a sardino stone : 
 and there was a rainbow ronnd al)ont the throne, in sight like unto an 
 emerald." Rev. iv., 3. 
 
 B()W of llic Covenant I — to men 
 .Jehovah s attestation 
 I'hat earth shall never know again 
 Diluvian desolation ! 
 
 Since first the hiiinan eye discerned 
 
 Thy evanescent pory, 
 Mow often have thy colors burned 
 
 Upon the clouds thv story! 
 
 Xot Chaos, when " Ijet there be Light " 
 
 Illumed its lorn abysses, 
 And hurled the grisly shades of Night 
 
 O'er beetling precipices; 
 
11 <S llAINHOW OF PvEVELATIO-V. 
 
 Nor Eden, Avhen tlic Morning came 
 To view its bridal bowers, 
 
 And flusli, with oriental flame, 
 Its amaranthine flowers. 
 
 Beheld such brilliancy as that. 
 In thee benignly blended. 
 
 When o'er tlie ark on Ararat, 
 Thine arc of promise bended ! 
 
 Wert thou more beautiful than now — 
 
 Thy radiance diviner, 
 When flaming on the mountain's brow 
 
 An erst unknown Shekinah? — 
 
 When o'er the lurid vault on high, 
 
 Above sepulchral surges, 
 Septuple splendors spanned the sky 
 
 To the horizon's verges? 
 
 In Fancy's glass, thy gorgeous dyes 
 
 Grow gradually dimmer, 
 While Noah shades his wistful eyes 
 
 To catch their dying glimmer : 
 
i:aini?()\v of Ki;vr,i,A'ri<)N. 11!) 
 
 l)Ut I'^iitli, iVoin PatiiK)!?, .still surveys, 
 
 In Heaven, thy real presence, 
 Effulgent with eternal rays 
 
 ( )!' emerald iridescence: 
 
 'rii<»u wreathest the illustrious Throne 
 
 ( )t" John's ecstatic vision, 
 Where jasper-L!:eni and sardine stone 
 
 Blaze throu(2,h thy zone elysian ! 
 
 There \\Q behold thee as thou art, 
 Liii'ht's cloudless eulniination, — 
 
 Dream of the rapt believer's heart ! 
 Rainbow of Revelation! 
 
AD ASTRA PER ASPERA. 
 
 A FRUITLESS faith is dead ; 
 
 A gift unused is vain ; 
 And nev^er a laureled head 
 Enshi'ines an idle brain : 
 The statue in the stone, 
 
 At first, a sculptor's thought, 
 By earnest, patient toil alone 
 Is to our vision brought. 
 
 A pearl is in a shell — 
 
 A shell beneath the wave — 
 And there it may in darkness dwell, 
 
 Its cradle still its grave; 
 But Poet, boldly dive. 
 
 And bring the pearl to view! 
 There will be a hum in the human hive, 
 
 And men will honor vou!