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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:49 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:49 -0700 |
| commit | b3abcda68bad5bd6c45f75853c595e47b0294940 (patch) | |
| tree | cd13ef95be12639440f9295f8350fbc5110b00a4 /12843-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '12843-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 12843-h/12843-h.htm | 14983 |
1 files changed, 14983 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/12843-h/12843-h.htm b/12843-h/12843-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cfa78c --- /dev/null +++ b/12843-h/12843-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14983 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 20%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 ***</div> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + POEMS + </h1> + <h2> + By Ralph Waldo Emerson + </h2> + <h3> + <i>HOUSEHOLD EDITION</i> + </h3> + <h3> + 1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + </h3> + <hr /> + <hr /> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I — <b>POEMS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> GOOD-BYE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> EACH AND ALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE PROBLEM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> TO RHEA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE VISIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> URIEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE WORLD-SOUL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE SPHINX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ALPHONSO OF CASTILE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MITHRIDATES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> TO J.W. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> DESTINY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> GUY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> HAMATREYA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> THE RHODORA: </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> THE HUMBLE-BEE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> BERRYING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> THE SNOW-STORM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> WOODNOTES I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> WOODNOTES II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> MONADNOC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> FABLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> ODE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> ASTRAEA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> FORBEARANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> THE PARK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> FORERUNNERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> SURSUM CORDA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> ODE TO BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> GIVE ALL TO LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> TO ELLEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> TO EVA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> LINES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> THE VIOLET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> THE AMULET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> THINE EYES STILL SHINED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> EROS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> HERMIONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> THE APOLOGY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> MERLIN I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> MERLIN II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> BACCHUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> MEROPS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> THE HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> SAADI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> HOLIDAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> XENOPHANES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> THE DAY'S RATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> BLIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> MUSKETAQUID </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> DIRGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> THRENODY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> CONCORD HYMN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> II — <b>MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> MAY-DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> THE ADIRONDACS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> BRAHMA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> NEMESIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> FATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> FREEDOM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> ODE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> BOSTON HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> VOLUNTARIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> LOVE AND THOUGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> UNA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> BOSTON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> LETTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> RUBIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> MERLIN'S SONG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> THE TEST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> SOLUTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> NATURE I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> NATURE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> THE ROMANY GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> DAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> MY GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> THE TITMOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> THE HARP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> SEASHORE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> SONG OF NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> TWO RIVERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> WALDEINSAMKEIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> TERMINUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> THE NUN'S ASPIRATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> APRIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> CUPIDO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> THE PAST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> THE LAST FAREWELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0100"> IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0101"> III — <b>ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0102"> EXPERIENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0103"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0104"> POLITICS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0105"> HEROISM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0106"> CHARACTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0107"> CULTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0108"> FRIENDSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0109"> SPIRITUAL LAWS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0110"> BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0111"> MANNERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0112"> ART </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0113"> UNITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0114"> WORSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0115"> PRUDENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0116"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0117"> THE INFORMING SPIRIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0118"> CIRCLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0119"> INTELLECT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0120"> GIFTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0121"> PROMISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0122"> CARITAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0123"> POWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0124"> WEALTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0125"> ILLUSIONS </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0126"> IV — <b>QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0127"> QUATRAINS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0128"> HUSH! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0129"> ORATOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0130"> ARTIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0131"> POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0132"> POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0133"> BOTANIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0134"> GARDENER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0135"> FORESTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0136"> NORTHMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0137"> FROM ALCUIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0138"> EXCELSIOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0139"> BORROWING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0140"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0141"> FATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0142"> HOROSCOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0143"> POWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0144"> CLIMACTERIC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0145"> HERI, CRAS, HODIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0146"> MEMORY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0147"> LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0148"> SACRIFICE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0149"> PERICLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0150"> CASELLA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0151"> SHAKSPEARE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0152"> HAFIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0153"> NATURE IN LEASTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0154"> TRANSLATIONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0155"> SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0156"> THE EXILE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0157"> FROM HAFIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0158"> EPITAPH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0159"> FRIENDSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0160"> FROM OMAR KHAYYAM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0161"> FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0162"> FROM IBN JEMIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0163"> THE FLUTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0164"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0165"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0166"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0167"> SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0168"> V — <b>APPENDIX</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0169"> THE POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0170"> FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0171"> FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0172"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0173"> THE EARTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0174"> THE HEAVENS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0175"> TRANSITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0176"> THE GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0177"> BIRDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0178"> WATER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0179"> NAHANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0180"> SUNRISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0181"> NIGHT IN JUNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0182"> MAIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0183"> LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0184"> REX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0185"> SUUM CUIQUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0186"> THE BOHEMIAN HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0187"> GRACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0188"> INSIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0189"> PAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0190"> MONADNOC FROM AFAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0191"> SEPTEMBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0192"> EROS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0193"> OCTOBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0194"> PETER'S FIELD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0195"> MUSIC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0196"> THE WALK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0197"> COSMOS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0198"> THE MIRACLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0199"> THE WATERFALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0200"> WALDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0201"> THE ENCHANTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0202"> WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0203"> RICHES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0204"> PHILOSOPHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0205"> INTELLECT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0206"> LIMITS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0207"> INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS + OF THE WAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0208"> THE EXILE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0209"> VI — <b>POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0210"> THE BELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0211"> THOUGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0212"> PRAYER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0213"> TO-DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0214"> FAME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0215"> THE SUMMONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0216"> THE RIVER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0217"> GOOD HOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0218"> LINES TO ELLEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0219"> SECURITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0220"> A MOUNTAIN GRAVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0221"> A LETTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0222"> HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0223"> SELF-RELIANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0224"> WRITTEN IN NAPLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0225"> WRITTEN AT ROME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0226"> WEBSTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0227"> FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0228"> <b>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0229"> <b>INDEX OF TITLES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, + published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:— + </p> + <p> + "This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS and + MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876, Mr. Emerson published a selection + from his Poems, adding six new ones and omitting many[1] of those + omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the expressed wishes + of many readers and lovers of them. Also some pieces never before + published are here given in an Appendix; on various grounds. Some of them + appear to have had Mr. Emerson's approval, but to have been withheld + because they were unfinished. These it seemed best not to suppress, now + that they can never receive their completion. Others, mostly of an early + date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of their personal and + private nature. Some of these seem to have an autobiographic interest + sufficient to justify their publication. Others again, often mere + fragments, have been admitted as characteristic, or as expressing in + poetic form thoughts found in the Essays. + </p> + + <pre> + [1]: Little Classic Edition. + </pre> + + <p> + "In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole, + preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the + opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of Time. + </p> + <p> + "As was stated in the preface to the first volume of this edition of Mr. + Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the Selected Poems have + not always been followed here, but in some cases preference has been given + to corrections made by him when he was in fuller strength than at the time + of the last revision. + </p> + <p> + "A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of 'May-Day,' in the part + representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as bringing + them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + </p> + <p> + In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the <i>Poems</i>, Mr. Cabot + very considerately took the present editor into counsel (as representing + Mr. Emerson's family), who at that time in turn took counsel with several + persons of taste and mature judgment with regard especially to the + admission of poems hitherto unpublished and of fragments that seemed + interested and pleasing. Mr. Cabot and he were entirely in accord with + regard to the Riverside Edition. In the present edition, the substance of + the Riverside Edition has been preserved, with hardly an exception, + although some poems and fragments have been added. None of the poems + therein printed have been omitted. "The House," which appeared in the + first volume of <i>Poems</i>, and "Nemesis," "Una," "Love and Thought" and + "Merlin's Songs," from the <i>May-Day</i> volume, have been restored. To + the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. Emerson printed as "Elements" in + <i>May-Day</i>, most of the others have been added. Following Mr. + Emerson's precedent of giving his brother Edward's "Last Farewell" a place + beside the poem in his memory, two pleasing poems by Ellen Tucker, his + first wife, which he published in the <i>Dial</i>, have been placed with + his own poems relating to her. The publication in the last edition of some + poems that Mr. Emerson had long kept by him, but had never quite been + ready to print, and of various fragments on Poetry, Nature and Life, was + not done without advice and careful consideration, and then was felt to be + perhaps a rash experiment. The continued interest which has been shown in + the author's thought and methods and life—for these unfinished + pieces contain much autobiography—has made the present editor feel + it justifiable to keep almost all of these and to add a few. Their order + has been slightly altered. + </p> + <p> + A few poems from the verse-books sufficiently complete to have a title are + printed in the Appendix for the first time: "Insight," "September," + "October," "Hymn" and "Riches." + </p> + <p> + After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, and + printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of them + taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never printed + before. They are for the most part journals in verse covering the period + of his school-teaching, study for the ministry and exercise of that + office, his sickness, bereavement, travel abroad and return to the new + life. This sad period of probation is illuminated by the episode of his + first love. Not for their poetical merit, except in flashes, but for the + light they throw on the growth of his thought and character are they + included. + </p> + <p> + In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued + with regard to his own poems. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. +</pre> + <h3> + EDWARD W. EMERSON. + </h3> + <p> + March 12, 1904. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + </h2> + <p> + The Emersons first appeared in the north of England, but Thomas, who + landed in Massachusetts in 1638, came from Hertfordshire. He built soon + after a house, sometimes railed the Saint's Rest, which still stands in + Ipswich on the slope of Heart-break Hill, close by Labour-in-vain Creek. + Ralph Waldo Emerson was the sixth in descent from him. He was born in + Boston, in Summer Street, May 25, 1803. He was the third son of William + Emerson, the minister of the First Church in Boston, whose father, William + Emerson, had been the patriotic minister of Concord at the outbreak of the + Revolution, and died a chaplain in the army. Ruth Haskins, the mother of + Ralph Waldo Emerson, was left a widow in 1811, with a family of five + little boys. The taste of these boys was scholarly, and four of them went + through the Latin School to Harvard College, and graduated there. Their + mother was a person of great sweetness, dignity, and piety, bringing up + her sons wisely and well in very straitened circumstances, and loved by + them. Her husband's stepfather, Rev. Dr. Ripley of Concord, helped her, + and constantly invited the boys to the Old Manse, so that the woods and + fields along the Concord River were first a playground and then the + background of the dreams of their awakening imaginations. + </p> + <p> + Born in the city, Emerson's young mind first found delight in poems and + classic prose, to which his instincts led him as naturally as another + boy's would to go fishing, but his vacations in the country supplemented + these by giving him great and increasing love of nature. In his early + poems classic imagery is woven into pictures of New England woodlands. + Even as a little boy he had the habit of attempting flights of verse, + stimulated by Milton, Pope, or Scott, and he and his mates took pleasure + in declaiming to each other in barns and attics. He was so full of + thoughts and fancies that he sought the pen instinctively, to jot them + down. + </p> + <p> + At college Emerson did not shine as a scholar, though he won prizes for + essays and declamations, being especially unfitted for mathematical + studies, and enjoying the classics rather in a literary than grammatical + way. And yet it is doubtful whether any man in his class used his time to + better purpose with reference to his after life, for young Emerson's + instinct led him to wide reading of works, outside the curriculum, that + spoke directly to him. He had already formed the habit of writing in a + journal, not the facts but the thoughts and inspirations of the day; + often, also, good stories or poetical quotations, and scraps of his own + verse. + </p> + <p> + On graduation from Harvard in the class of 1821, following the traditions + of his family, Emerson resolved to study to be a minister, and meantime + helped his older brother William in the support of the family by teaching + in a school for young ladies in Boston, that the former had successfully + established. The principal was twenty-one and the assistant nineteen years + of age. For school-teaching on the usual lines Emerson was not fitted, and + his youth and shyness prevented him from imparting his best gifts to his + scholars. Years later, when, in his age, his old scholars assembled to + greet him, he regretted that no hint had been brought into the school of + what at that very time "I was writing every night in my chamber, my first + thoughts on morals and the beautiful laws of compensation, and of + individual genius, which to observe and illustrate have given sweetness to + many years of my life." Yet many scholars remembered his presence and + teaching with pleasure and gratitude, not only in Boston, but in + Chelmsford and Roxbury, for while his younger brothers were in college it + was necessary that he should help. In these years, as through all his + youth, he was loved, spurred on in his intellectual life, and keenly + criticised by his aunt, Mary Moody Emerson, an eager and wide reader, + inspired by religious zeal, high-minded, but eccentric. + </p> + <p> + The health of the young teacher suffered from too ascetic a life, and + unmistakable danger-signals began to appear, fortunately heeded in time, + but disappointment and delay resulted, borne, however, with sense and + courage. His course at the Divinity School in Cambridge was much broken; + nevertheless, in October, 1826, he was "approbated to preach" by the + Middlesex Association of Ministers. A winter at the North at this time + threatened to prove fatal, so he was sent South by his helpful kinsman, + Rev. Samuel Ripley, and passed the winter in Florida with benefit, working + northward in the spring, preaching in the cities, and resumed his studies + at Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + In 1829, Emerson was called by the Second or Old North Church in Boston to + become the associate pastor with Rev. Henry Ware, and soon after, because + of his senior's delicate health, was called on to assume the full duty. + Theological dogmas, such as the Unitarian Church of Channing's day + accepted, did not appeal to Emerson, nor did the supernatural in religion + in its ordinary acceptation interest him. The omnipresence of spirit, the + dignity of man, the daily miracle of the universe, were what he taught, + and while the older members of the congregation may have been disquieted + that he did not dwell on revealed religion, his words reached the young + people, stirred thought, and awakened aspiration. At this time he lived + with his mother and his young wife (Ellen Tucker) in Chardon Street. For + three years he ministered to his people in Boston. Then having felt the + shock of being obliged to conform to church usage, as stated prayer when + the spirit did not move, and especially the administration of the + Communion, he honestly laid his troubles before his people, and proposed + to them some modification of this rite. While they considered his + proposition, Emerson went into the White Mountains to weigh his + conflicting duties to his church and conscience. He came down, bravely to + meet the refusal of the church to change the rite, and in a sermon + preached in September, 1832, explained his objections to it, and, because + he could not honestly administer it, resigned. + </p> + <p> + He parted from his people in all kindness, but the wrench was felt. His + wife had recently died, he was ill himself, his life seemed to others + broken up. But meantime voices from far away had reached him. He sailed + for Europe, landed in Italy, saw cities, and art, and men, but would not + stay long. Of the dead, Michael Angelo appealed chiefly to him there; + Landor among the living. He soon passed northward, making little stay in + Paris, but sought out Carlyle, then hardly recognized, and living in the + lonely hills of the Scottish Border. There began a friendship which had + great influence on the lives of both men, and lasted through life. He also + visited Wordsworth. But the new life before him called him home. + </p> + <p> + He landed at Boston within the year in good health and hope, and joined + his mother and youngest brother Charles in Newton. Frequent invitations to + preach still came, and were accepted, and he even was sounded as to + succeeding Dr. Dewey in the church at New Bedford; but, as he stipulated + for freedom from ceremonial, this came to nothing. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn of 1834 he moved to Concord, living with his kinsman, Dr. + Ripley, at the Manse, but soon bought house and land on the Boston Road, + on the edge of the village towards Walden woods. Thither, in the autumn, + he brought his wife. Miss Lidian Jackson, of Plymouth, and this was their + home during the rest of their lives. + </p> + <p> + The new life to which he had been called opened pleasantly and increased + in happiness and opportunity, except for the sadness of bereavements, for, + in the first few years, his brilliant brothers Edward and Charles died, + and soon afterward Waldo, his firstborn son, and later his mother. Emerson + had left traditional religion, the city, the Old World, behind, and now + went to Nature as his teacher, his inspiration. His first book, "Nature," + which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here, and published + in 1836. His practice during all his life in Concord was to go alone to + the woods almost daily, sometimes to wait there for hours, and, when thus + attuned, to receive the message to which he was to give voice. Though it + might be colored by him in transmission, he held that the light was + universal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ever the words of the Gods resound, + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear." +</pre> + <p> + But he resorted, also, to the books of those who had handed down the + oracles truly, and was quick to find the message destined for him. Men, + too, he studied eagerly, the humblest and the highest, regretting always + that the brand of the scholar on him often silenced the men of shop and + office where he came. He was everywhere a learner, expecting light from + the youngest and least educated visitor. The thoughts combined with the + flower of his reading were gradually grouped into lectures, and his main + occupation through life was reading these to who would hear, at first in + courses in Boston, but later all over the country, for the Lyceum sprang + up in New England in these years in every town, and spread westward to the + new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. His winters were spent in + these rough, but to him interesting journeys, for he loved to watch the + growth of the Republic in which he had faith, and his summers were spent + in study and writing. These lectures were later severely pruned and + revised, and the best of them gathered into seven volumes of essays under + different names between 1841 and 1876. The courses in Boston, which at + first were given in the Masonic Temple, were always well attended by + earnest and thoughtful people. The young, whether in years or in spirit, + were always and to the end his audience of the spoken or written word. The + freedom of the Lyceum platform pleased Emerson. He found that people would + hear on Wednesday with approval and unsuspectingly doctrines from which on + Sunday they felt officially obliged to dissent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lowell, in his essays, has spoken of these early lectures and what + they were worth to him and others suffering from the generous discontent + of youth with things as they were. Emerson used to say, "My strength and + my doom is to be solitary;" but to a retired scholar a wholesome offset to + this was the travelling and lecturing in cities and in raw frontier towns, + bringing him into touch with the people, and this he knew and valued. + </p> + <p> + In 1837 Emerson gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration in Cambridge, The American + Scholar, which increased his growing reputation, but the following year + his Address to the Senior Class at the Divinity School brought out, even + from the friendly Unitarians, severe strictures and warnings against its + dangerous doctrines. Of this heresy Emerson said: "I deny personality to + God because it is too little, not too much." He really strove to elevate + the idea of God. Yet those who were pained or shocked by his teachings + respected Emerson. His lectures were still in demand; he was often asked + to speak by literary societies at orthodox colleges. He preached regularly + at East Lexington until 1838, but thereafter withdrew from the ministerial + office. At this time the progressive and spiritually minded young people + used to meet for discussion and help in Boston, among them George Ripley, + Cyrus Bartol, James Freeman Clarke, Alcott, Dr. Hedge, Margaret Fuller, + and Elizabeth Peabody. Perhaps from this gathering of friends, which + Emerson attended, came what is called the Transcendental Movement, two + results of which were the Brook Farm Community and the Dial magazine, in + which last Emerson took great interest, and was for the time an editor. + Many of these friends were frequent visitors in Concord. Alcott moved + thither after the breaking up of his school. Hawthorne also came to dwell + there. Henry Thoreau, a Concord youth, greatly interested Emerson; indeed, + became for a year or two a valued inmate of his home, and helped and + instructed him in the labors of the garden and little farm, which + gradually grew to ten acres, the chief interest of which for the owner was + his trees, which he loved and tended. Emerson helped introduce his + countrymen to the teachings of Carlyle, and edited his works here, where + they found more readers than at home. + </p> + <p> + In 1847 Emerson was invited to read lectures in England, and remained + abroad a year, visiting France also in her troublous times. English Traits + was a result. Just before this journey he had collected and published his + poems. A later volume, called May Day, followed in 1867. He had written + verses from childhood, and to the purified expression of poetry he, + through life, eagerly aspired. He said, "I like my poems best because it + is not I who write them." In 1866 the degree of Doctor of Laws was + conferred on him by Harvard University, and he was chosen an Overseer. In + 1867 he again gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration, and in 1870 and 1871 gave + courses in Philosophy in the University Lectures at Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + Emerson was not merely a man of letters. He recognized and did the private + and public duties of the hour. He exercised a wide hospitality to souls as + well as bodies. Eager youths came to him for rules, and went away with + light. Reformers, wise and unwise, came to him, and were kindly received. + They were often disappointed that they could not harness him to their + partial and transient scheme. He said, My reforms include theirs: I must + go my way; help people by my strength, not by my weakness. But if a storm + threatened, he felt bound to appear and show his colors. Against the + crying evils of his time he worked bravely in his own way. He wrote to + President Van Buren against the wrong done to the Cherokees, dared speak + against the idolized Webster, when he deserted the cause of Freedom, + constantly spoke of the iniquity of slavery, aided with speech and money + the Free State cause in Kansas, was at Phillips's side at the antislavery + meeting in 1861 broken up by the Boston mob, urged emancipation during the + war. + </p> + <p> + He enjoyed his Concord home and neighbors, served on the school committee + for years, did much for the Lyceum, and spoke on the town's great + occasions. He went to all town-meetings, oftener to listen and admire than + to speak, and always took pleasure and pride in the people. In return he + was respected and loved by them. + </p> + <p> + Emerson's house was destroyed by fire in 1872, and the incident exposure + and fatigue did him harm. His many friends insisted on rebuilding his + house and sending him abroad to get well. He went up the Nile, and + revisited England, finding old and new friends, and, on his return, was + welcomed and escorted home by the people of Concord. After this time he + was unable to write. His old age was quiet and happy among his family and + friends. He died in April, 1882. + </p> + <h3> + EDWARD W. EMERSON. + </h3> + <p> + January, 1899. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I — POEMS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD-BYE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: + Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. + Long through thy weary crowds I roam; + A river-ark on the ocean brine, + Long I've been tossed like the driven foam: + But now, proud world! I'm going home. + + Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; + To Grandeur with his wise grimace; + To upstart Wealth's averted eye; + To supple Office, low and high; + To crowded halls, to court and street; + To frozen hearts and hasting feet; + To those who go, and those who come; + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home. + + I am going to my own hearth-stone, + Bosomed in yon green hills alone,— + secret nook in a pleasant land, + Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; + Where arches green, the livelong day, + Echo the blackbird's roundelay, + And vulgar feet have never trod + A spot that is sacred to thought and God. + + O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, + I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; + And when I am stretched beneath the pines, + Where the evening star so holy shines, + I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, + At the sophist schools and the learned clan; + For what are they all, in their high conceit, + When man in the bush with God may meet? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EACH AND ALL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown + Of thee from the hill-top looking down; + The heifer that lows in the upland farm, + Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; + The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, + Deems not that great Napoleon + Stops his horse, and lists with delight, + Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; + Nor knowest thou what argument + Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. + All are needed by each one; + Nothing is fair or good alone. + I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, + Singing at dawn on the alder bough; + I brought him home, in his nest, at even; + He sings the song, but it cheers not now, + For I did not bring home the river and sky;— + He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye. + The delicate shells lay on the shore; + The bubbles of the latest wave + Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, + And the bellowing of the savage sea + Greeted their safe escape to me. + I wiped away the weeds and foam, + I fetched my sea-born treasures home; + But the poor, unsightly, noisome things + Had left their beauty on the shore + With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. + The lover watched his graceful maid, + As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, + Nor knew her beauty's best attire + Was woven still by the snow-white choir. + At last she came to his hermitage, + Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;— + The gay enchantment was undone, + A gentle wife, but fairy none. + Then I said, 'I covet truth; + Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; + I leave it behind with the games of youth:'— + As I spoke, beneath my feet + The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, + Running over the club-moss burrs; + I inhaled the violet's breath; + Around me stood the oaks and firs; + Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; + Over me soared the eternal sky. + Full of light and of deity; + Again I saw, again I heard, + The rolling river, the morning bird;— + Beauty through my senses stole; + I yielded myself to the perfect whole. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PROBLEM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I like a church; I like a cowl; + I love a prophet of the soul; + And on my heart monastic aisles + Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles + Yet not for all his faith can see + Would I that cowlèd churchman be. + + Why should the vest on him allure, + Which I could not on me endure? + + Not from a vain or shallow thought + His awful Jove young Phidias brought; + Never from lips of cunning fell + The thrilling Delphic oracle; + Out from the heart of nature rolled + The burdens of the Bible old; + The litanies of nations came, + Like the volcano's tongue of flame, + Up from the burning core below,— + The canticles of love and woe: + The hand that rounded Peter's dome + And groined the aisles of Christian Rome + Wrought in a sad sincerity; + Himself from God he could not free; + He builded better than he knew;— + The conscious stone to beauty grew. + + Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest + Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? + Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, + Painting with morn each annual cell? + Or how the sacred pine-tree adds + To her old leaves new myriads? + Such and so grew these holy piles, + Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. + Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, + As the best gem upon her zone, + And Morning opes with haste her lids + To gaze upon the Pyramids; + O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, + As on its friends, with kindred eye; + For out of Thought's interior sphere + These wonders rose to upper air; + And Nature gladly gave them place, + Adopted them into her race, + And granted them an equal date + With Andes and with Ararat. + + These temples grew as grows the grass; + Art might obey, but not surpass. + The passive Master lent his hand + To the vast soul that o'er him planned; + And the same power that reared the shrine + Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. + Ever the fiery Pentecost + Girds with one flame the countless host, + Trances the heart through chanting choirs, + And through the priest the mind inspires. + The word unto the prophet spoken + Was writ on tables yet unbroken; + The word by seers or sibyls told, + In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, + Still floats upon the morning wind, + Still whispers to the willing mind. + One accent of the Holy Ghost + The heedless world hath never lost. + I know what say the fathers wise,— + The Book itself before me lies, + Old <i>Chrysostom</i>, best Augustine, + And he who blent both in his line, + The younger <i>Golden Lips</i> or mines, + Taylor, the Shakspeare of divines. + His words are music in my ear, + I see his cowlèd portrait dear; + And yet, for all his faith could see, + I would not the good bishop be. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO RHEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes, + Not with flatteries, but truths, + Which tarnish not, but purify + To light which dims the morning's eye. + I have come from the spring-woods, + From the fragrant solitudes;— + Listen what the poplar-tree + And murmuring waters counselled me. + + If with love thy heart has burned; + If thy love is unreturned; + Hide thy grief within thy breast, + Though it tear thee unexpressed; + For when love has once departed + From the eyes of the false-hearted, + And one by one has torn off quite + The bandages of purple light; + Though thou wert the loveliest + Form the soul had ever dressed, + Thou shalt seem, in each reply, + A vixen to his altered eye; + Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, + Thy praying lute will seem to scold; + Though thou kept the straightest road, + Yet thou errest far and broad. + + But thou shalt do as do the gods + In their cloudless periods; + For of this lore be thou sure,— + Though thou forget, the gods, secure, + Forget never their command, + But make the statute of this land. + As they lead, so follow all, + Ever have done, ever shall. + Warning to the blind and deaf, + 'T is written on the iron leaf, + <i>Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup</i> + <i>Loveth downward, and not up;</i> + He who loves, of gods or men, + Shall not by the same be loved again; + His sweetheart's idolatry + Falls, in turn, a new degree. + When a god is once beguiled + By beauty of a mortal child + And by her radiant youth delighted, + He is not fooled, but warily knoweth + His love shall never be requited. + And thus the wise Immortal doeth,— + 'T is his study and delight + To bless that creature day and night; + From all evils to defend her; + In her lap to pour all splendor; + To ransack earth for riches rare, + And fetch her stars to deck her hair: + He mixes music with her thoughts, + And saddens her with heavenly doubts: + All grace, all good his great heart knows, + Profuse in love, the king bestows, + Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air! + This monument of my despair + Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair. + Not for a private good, + But I, from my beatitude, + Albeit scorned as none was scorned, + Adorn her as was none adorned. + I make this maiden an ensample + To Nature, through her kingdoms ample, + Whereby to model newer races, + Statelier forms and fairer faces; + To carry man to new degrees + Of power and of comeliness. + These presents be the hostages + Which I pawn for my release. + See to thyself, O Universe! + Thou art better, and not worse.'— + And the god, having given all, + Is freed forever from his thrall. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VISIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' + Devastator of the day! + Know, each substance and relation, + Thorough nature's operation, + Hath its unit, bound and metre; + And every new compound + Is some product and repeater,— + Product of the earlier found. + But the unit of the visit, + The encounter of the wise,— + Say, what other metre is it + Than the meeting of the eyes? + Nature poureth into nature + Through the channels of that feature, + Riding on the ray of sight, + Fleeter far than whirlwinds go, + Or for service, or delight, + Hearts to hearts their meaning show, + Sum their long experience, + And import intelligence. + Single look has drained the breast; + Single moment years confessed. + The duration of a glance + Is the term of convenance, + And, though thy rede be church or state, + Frugal multiples of that. + Speeding Saturn cannot halt; + Linger,—thou shalt rue the fault: + If Love his moment overstay, + Hatred's swift repulsions play. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + URIEL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It fell in the ancient periods + Which the brooding soul surveys, + Or ever the wild Time coined itself + Into calendar months and days. + + This was the lapse of Uriel, + Which in Paradise befell. + Once, among the Pleiads walking, + Seyd overheard the young gods talking; + And the treason, too long pent, + To his ears was evident. + The young deities discussed + Laws of form, and metre just, + Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, + What subsisteth, and what seems. + One, with low tones that decide, + And doubt and reverend use defied, + With a look that solved the sphere, + And stirred the devils everywhere, + Gave his sentiment divine + Against the being of a line. + 'Line in nature is not found; + Unit and universe are round; + In vain produced, all rays return; + Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' + As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, + A shudder ran around the sky; + The stern old war-gods shook their heads, + The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; + Seemed to the holy festival + The rash word boded ill to all; + The balance-beam of Fate was bent; + The bounds of good and ill were rent; + Strong Hades could not keep his own, + But all slid to confusion. + + A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell + On the beauty of Uriel; + In heaven once eminent, the god + Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; + Whether doomed to long gyration + In the sea of generation, + Or by knowledge grown too bright + To hit the nerve of feebler sight. + Straightway, a forgetting wind + Stole over the celestial kind, + And their lips the secret kept, + If in ashes the fire-seed slept. + But now and then, truth-speaking things + Shamed the angels' veiling wings; + And, shrilling from the solar course, + Or from fruit of chemic force, + Procession of a soul in matter, + Or the speeding change of water, + Or out of the good of evil born, + Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, + And a blush tinged the upper sky, + And the gods shook, they knew not why. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WORLD-SOUL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thanks to the morning light, + Thanks to the foaming sea, + To the uplands of New Hampshire, + To the green-haired forest free; + Thanks to each man of courage, + To the maids of holy mind, + To the boy with his games undaunted + Who never looks behind. + + Cities of proud hotels, + Houses of rich and great, + Vice nestles in your chambers, + Beneath your roofs of slate. + It cannot conquer folly,— + Time-and-space-conquering steam,— + And the light-outspeeding telegraph + Bears nothing on its beam. + + The politics are base; + The letters do not cheer; + And 'tis far in the deeps of history, + The voice that speaketh clear. + Trade and the streets ensnare us, + Our bodies are weak and worn; + We plot and corrupt each other, + And we despoil the unborn. + + Yet there in the parlor sits + Some figure of noble guise,— + Our angel, in a stranger's form, + Or woman's pleading eyes; + Or only a flashing sunbeam + In at the window-pane; + Or Music pours on mortals + Its beautiful disdain. + + The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be; + And be sure the all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. + Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky between the walls, + Hold all the hidden wonders + In scanty intervals. + + Alas! the Sprite that haunts us + Deceives our rash desire; + It whispers of the glorious gods, + And leaves us in the mire. + We cannot learn the cipher + That's writ upon our cell; + Stars taunt us by a mystery + Which we could never spell. + + If but one hero knew it, + The world would blush in flame; + The sage, till he hit the secret, + Would hang his head for shame. + Our brothers have not read it, + Not one has found the key; + And henceforth we are comforted,— + We are but such as they. + + Still, still the secret presses; + The nearing clouds draw down; + The crimson morning flames into + The fopperies of the town. + Within, without the idle earth, + Stars weave eternal rings; + The sun himself shines heartily, + And shares the joy he brings. + + And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, + And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o'er?— + They are but sailing foam-bells + Along Thought's causing stream, + And take their shape and sun-color + From him that sends the dream. + + For Destiny never swerves + Nor yields to men the helm; + He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves, + Throughout the solid realm. + The patient Daemon sits, + With roses and a shroud; + He has his way, and deals his gifts,— + But ours is not allowed. + + He is no churl nor trifler, + And his viceroy is none,— + Love-without-weakness,— + Of Genius sire and son. + And his will is not thwarted; + The seeds of land and sea + Are the atoms of his body bright, + And his behest obey. + + He serveth the servant, + The brave he loves amain; + He kills the cripple and the sick, + And straight begins again; + For gods delight in gods, + And thrust the weak aside; + To him who scorns their charities + Their arms fly open wide. + + When the old world is sterile + And the ages are effete, + He will from wrecks and sediment + The fairer world complete. + He forbids to despair; + His cheeks mantle with mirth; + And the unimagined good of men + Is yeaning at the birth. + + Spring still makes spring in the mind + When sixty years are told; + Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, + And we are never old; + Over the winter glaciers + I see the summer glow, + And through the wild-piled snow-drift + The warm rosebuds below. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SPHINX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Sphinx is drowsy, + Her wings are furled: + Her ear is heavy, + She broods on the world. + "Who'll tell me my secret, + The ages have kept?— + I awaited the seer + While they slumbered and slept:— + + "The fate of the man-child, + The meaning of man; + Known fruit of the unknown; + Daedalian plan; + Out of sleeping a waking, + Out of waking a sleep; + Life death overtaking; + Deep underneath deep? + + "Erect as a sunbeam, + Upspringeth the palm; + The elephant browses, + Undaunted and calm; + In beautiful motion + The thrush plies his wings; + Kind leaves of his covert, + Your silence he sings. + + "The waves, unashamèd, + In difference sweet, + Play glad with the breezes, + Old playfellows meet; + The journeying atoms, + Primordial wholes, + Firmly draw, firmly drive, + By their animate poles. + + "Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. + Plant, quadruped, bird, + By one music enchanted, + One deity stirred,— + Each the other adorning, + Accompany still; + Night veileth the morning, + The vapor the hill. + + "The babe by its mother + Lies bathèd in joy; + Glide its hours uncounted,— + The sun is its toy; + Shines the peace of all being, + Without cloud, in its eyes; + And the sum of the world + In soft miniature lies. + + "But man crouches and blushes, + Absconds and conceals; + He creepeth and peepeth, + He palters and steals; + Infirm, melancholy, + Jealous glancing around, + An oaf, an accomplice, + He poisons the ground. + + "Out spoke the great mother, + Beholding his fear;— + At the sound of her accents + Cold shuddered the sphere:— + 'Who has drugged my boy's cup? + Who has mixed my boy's bread? + Who, with sadness and madness, + Has turned my child's head?'" + + I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, + 'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. + Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; + They fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime. + + "The fiend that man harries + Is love of the Best; + Yawns the pit of the Dragon, + Lit by rays from the Blest. + The Lethe of Nature + Can't trance him again, + Whose soul sees the perfect, + Which his eyes seek in vain. + + "To vision profounder, + Man's spirit must dive; + His aye-rolling orb + At no goal will arrive; + The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, + Once found,—for new heavens + He spurneth the old. + + "Pride ruined the angels, + Their shame them restores; + Lurks the joy that is sweetest + In stings of remorse. + Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?— + I would he were nobler + Than to love me. + + "Eterne alternation + Now follows, now flies; + And under pain, pleasure,— + Under pleasure, pain lies. + Love works at the centre, + Heart-heaving alway; + Forth speed the strong pulses + To the borders of day. + + "Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; + Thy sight is growing blear; + Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, + Her muddy eyes to clear!" + The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,— + Said, "Who taught thee me to name? + I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow; + Of thine eye I am eyebeam. + + "Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, + Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. + So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; + Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply." + + Uprose the merry Sphinx, + And crouched no more in stone; + She melted into purple cloud, + She silvered in the moon; + She spired into a yellow flame; + She flowered in blossoms red; + She flowed into a foaming wave: + She stood Monadnoc's head. + + Thorough a thousand voices + Spoke the universal dame; + "Who telleth one of my meanings + Is master of all I am." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I, Alphonso, live and learn, + Seeing Nature go astern. + Things deteriorate in kind; + Lemons run to leaves and rind; + Meagre crop of figs and limes; + Shorter days and harder times. + Flowering April cools and dies + In the insufficient skies. + Imps, at high midsummer, blot + Half the sun's disk with a spot; + 'Twill not now avail to tan + Orange cheek or skin of man. + Roses bleach, the goats are dry, + Lisbon quakes, the people cry. + Yon pale, scrawny fisher fools, + Gaunt as bitterns in the pools, + Are no brothers of my blood;— + They discredit Adamhood. + Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, + O'er your ramparts as ye lean, + The general debility; + Of genius the sterility; + Mighty projects countermanded; + Rash ambition, brokenhanded; + Puny man and scentless rose + Tormenting Pan to double the dose. + Rebuild or ruin: either fill + Of vital force the wasted rill, + Or tumble all again in heap + To weltering Chaos and to sleep. + + Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, + Which fed the veins of earth and sky, + That mortals miss the loyal heats, + Which drove them erst to social feats; + Now, to a savage selfness grown, + Think nature barely serves for one; + With science poorly mask their hurt; + And vex the gods with question pert, + Immensely curious whether you + Still are rulers, or Mildew? + + Masters, I'm in pain with you; + Masters, I'll be plain with you; + In my palace of Castile, + I, a king, for kings can feel. + There my thoughts the matter roll, + And solve and oft resolve the whole. + And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, + Ye shall not fail for sound advice. + Before ye want a drop of rain, + Hear the sentiment of Spain. + + You have tried famine: no more try it; + Ply us now with a full diet; + Teach your pupils now with plenty, + For one sun supply us twenty. + I have thought it thoroughly over,— + State of hermit, state of lover; + We must have society, + We cannot spare variety. + Hear you, then, celestial fellows! + Fits not to be overzealous; + Steads not to work on the clean jump, + Nor wine nor brains perpetual pump. + Men and gods are too extense; + Could you slacken and condense? + Your rank overgrowths reduce + Till your kinds abound with juice? + Earth, crowded, cries, 'Too many men!' + My counsel is, kill nine in ten, + And bestow the shares of all + On the remnant decimal. + Add their nine lives to this cat; + Stuff their nine brains in one hat; + Make his frame and forces square + With the labors he must dare; + Thatch his flesh, and even his years + With the marble which he rears. + There, growing slowly old at ease + No faster than his planted trees, + He may, by warrant of his age, + In schemes of broader scope engage. + So shall ye have a man of the sphere + Fit to grace the solar year. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MITHRIDATES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot spare water or wine, + Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; + From the earth-poles to the Line, + All between that works or grows, + Every thing is kin of mine. + + Give me agates for my meat; + Give me cantharids to eat; + From air and ocean bring me foods, + From all zones and altitudes;— + + From all natures, sharp and slimy, + Salt and basalt, wild and tame: + Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, + Bird, and reptile, be my game. + + Ivy for my fillet band; + Blinding dog-wood in my hand; + Hemlock for my sherbet cull me, + And the prussic juice to lull me; + Swing me in the upas boughs, + Vampyre-fanned, when I carouse. + + Too long shut in strait and few, + Thinly dieted on dew, + I will use the world, and sift it, + To a thousand humors shift it, + As you spin a cherry. + O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry! + O all you virtues, methods, mights, + Means, appliances, delights, + Reputed wrongs and braggart rights, + Smug routine, and things allowed, + Minorities, things under cloud! + Hither! take me, use me, fill me, + Vein and artery, though ye kill me! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO J.W. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Set not thy foot on graves; + Hear what wine and roses say; + The mountain chase, the summer waves, + The crowded town, thy feet may well delay. + + Set not thy foot on graves; + Nor seek to unwind the shroud + Which charitable Time + And Nature have allowed + To wrap the errors of a sage sublime. + + Set not thy foot on graves; + Care not to strip the dead + Of his sad ornament, + His myrrh, and wine, and rings, + + His sheet of lead, + And trophies buried: + Go, get them where he earned them when alive; + As resolutely dig or dive. + + Life is too short to waste + In critic peep or cynic bark, + Quarrel or reprimand: + 'T will soon be dark; + Up! mind thine own aim, and + God speed the mark! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DESTINY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That you are fair or wise is vain, + Or strong, or rich, or generous; + You must add the untaught strain + That sheds beauty on the rose. + There's a melody born of melody, + Which melts the world into a sea. + Toil could never compass it; + Art its height could never hit; + It came never out of wit; + But a music music-born + Well may Jove and Juno scorn. + Thy beauty, if it lack the fire + Which drives me mad with sweet desire, + What boots it? What the soldier's mail, + Unless he conquer and prevail? + What all the goods thy pride which lift, + If thou pine for another's gift? + Alas! that one is born in blight, + Victim of perpetual slight: + When thou lookest on his face, + Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! + None shall ask thee what thou doest, + Or care a rush for what thou knowest, + Or listen when thou repliest, + Or remember where thou liest, + Or how thy supper is sodden;' + And another is born + To make the sun forgotten. + Surely he carries a talisman + Under his tongue; + Broad his shoulders are and strong; + And his eye is scornful, + Threatening and young. + I hold it of little matter + Whether your jewel be of pure water, + A rose diamond or a white, + But whether it dazzle me with light. + I care not how you are dressed, + In coarsest weeds or in the best; + Nor whether your name is base or brave: + Nor for the fashion of your behavior; + But whether you charm me, + Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me + And dress up Nature in your favor. + One thing is forever good; + That one thing is Success,— + Dear to the Eumenides, + And to all the heavenly brood. + Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, + Carries the eagles, and masters the sword. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GUY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mortal mixed of middle clay, + Attempered to the night and day, + Interchangeable with things, + Needs no amulets nor rings. + Guy possessed the talisman + That all things from him began; + And as, of old, Polycrates + Chained the sunshine and the breeze, + So did Guy betimes discover + Fortune was his guard and lover; + In strange junctures, felt, with awe, + His own symmetry with law; + That no mixture could withstand + The virtue of his lucky hand. + He gold or jewel could not lose, + Nor not receive his ample dues. + Fearless Guy had never foes, + He did their weapons decompose. + Aimed at him, the blushing blade + Healed as fast the wounds it made. + If on the foeman fell his gaze, + Him it would straightway blind or craze, + In the street, if he turned round, + His eye the eye 't was seeking found. + + It seemed his Genius discreet + Worked on the Maker's own receipt, + And made each tide and element + Stewards of stipend and of rent; + So that the common waters fell + As costly wine into his well. + He had so sped his wise affairs + That he caught Nature in his snares. + Early or late, the falling rain + Arrived in time to swell his grain; + Stream could not so perversely wind + But corn of Guy's was there to grind: + The siroc found it on its way, + To speed his sails, to dry his hay; + And the world's sun seemed to rise + To drudge all day for Guy the wise. + In his rich nurseries, timely skill + Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; + The zephyr in his garden rolled + From plum-trees vegetable gold; + And all the hours of the year + With their own harvest honored were. + There was no frost but welcome came, + Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. + Belonged to wind and world the toil + And venture, and to Guy the oil. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HAMATREYA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, + Possessed the land which rendered to their toil + Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood. + Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm, + Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's. + How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees! + How graceful climb those shadows on my hill! + I fancy these pure waters and the flags + Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize; + And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.' + + Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds: + And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. + Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys + Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; + Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet + Clear of the grave. + They added ridge to valley, brook to pond, + And sighed for all that bounded their domain; + 'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park; + We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge, + And misty lowland, where to go for peat. + The land is well,—lies fairly to the south. + 'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back, + To find the sitfast acres where you left them.' + Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds + Him to his land, a lump of mould the more. + Hear what the Earth says:— + + EARTH-SONG + + 'Mine and yours; + Mine, not yours. + Earth endures; + Stars abide— + Shine down in the old sea; + Old are the shores; + But where are old men? + I who have seen much, + Such have I never seen. + + 'The lawyer's deed + Ran sure, + In tail, + To them, and to their heirs + Who shall succeed, + Without fail, + Forevermore. + + 'Here is the land, + Shaggy with wood, + With its old valley, + Mound and flood. + But the heritors?— + + Fled like the flood's foam. + The lawyer, and the laws, + And the kingdom, + Clean swept herefrom. + + 'They called me theirs, + Who so controlled me; + Yet every one + Wished to stay, and is gone, + How am I theirs, + If they cannot hold me, + But I hold them?' + + When I heard the Earth-song + I was no longer brave; + My avarice cooled + Like lust in the chill of the grave. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RHODORA: + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? + + In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, + I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, + Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, + To please the desert and the sluggish brook. + The purple petals, fallen in the pool, + Made the black water with their beauty gay; + Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. + And court the flower that cheapens his array. + Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why + This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, + Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, + Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: + Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! + I never thought to ask, I never knew: + But, in my simple ignorance, suppose + The self-same Power that brought me there brought you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HUMBLE-BEE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Burly, dozing humble-bee, + Where thou art is clime for me. + Let them sail for Porto Rique, + Far-off heats through seas to seek; + I will follow thee alone, + Thou animated torrid-zone! + Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, + Let me chase thy waving lines; + Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, + Singing over shrubs and vines. + + Insect lover of the sun, + Joy of thy dominion! + Sailor of the atmosphere; + Swimmer through the waves of air; + Voyager of light and noon; + Epicurean of June; + Wait, I prithee, till I come + Within earshot of thy hum,— + All without is martyrdom. + + When the south wind, in May days, + With a net of shining haze + Silvers the horizon wall, + And with softness touching all, + Tints the human countenance + With a color of romance, + And infusing subtle heats, + Turns the sod to violets, + Thou, in sunny solitudes, + Rover of the underwoods, + The green silence dost displace + With thy mellow, breezy bass. + + Hot midsummer's petted crone, + Sweet to me thy drowsy tone + Tells of countless sunny hours, + Long days, and solid banks of flowers; + Of gulfs of sweetness without bound + In Indian wildernesses found; + Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, + Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. + + Aught unsavory or unclean + Hath my insect never seen; + But violets and bilberry bells, + Maple-sap and daffodels, + Grass with green flag half-mast high, + Succory to match the sky, + Columbine with horn of honey, + Scented fern, and agrimony, + Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue + And brier-roses, dwelt among; + All beside was unknown waste, + All was picture as he passed. + + Wiser far than human seer, + Yellow-breeched philosopher! + Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet, + Thou dost mock at fate and care, + Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. + When the fierce northwestern blast + Cools sea and land so far and fast, + Thou already slumberest deep; + Woe and want thou canst outsleep; + Want and woe, which torture us, + Thy sleep makes ridiculous. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BERRYING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'May be true what I had heard,— + Earth's a howling wilderness, + Truculent with fraud and force,' + Said I, strolling through the pastures, + And along the river-side. + Caught among the blackberry vines, + Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, + Pleasant fancies overtook me. + I said, 'What influence me preferred, + Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' + The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem + No wisdom from our berries went?' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SNOW-STORM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, + And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. + The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet + Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit + Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed + In a tumultuous privacy of storm. + + Come see the north wind's masonry. + Out of an unseen quarry + Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer + Curves his white bastions with projected roof + Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. + Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work + So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he + For number or proportion. Mockingly, + On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; + A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; + Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, + Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate + A tapering turret overtops the work. + And when his hours are numbered, and the world + Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, + Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art + To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, + Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, + The frolic architecture of the snow. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOODNOTES I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1 + + When the pine tosses its cones + To the song of its waterfall tones, + Who speeds to the woodland walks? + To birds and trees who talks? + Caesar of his leafy Rome, + There the poet is at home. + He goes to the river-side,— + Not hook nor line hath he; + He stands in the meadows wide,— + Nor gun nor scythe to see. + Sure some god his eye enchants: + What he knows nobody wants. + In the wood he travels glad, + Without better fortune had, + Melancholy without bad. + Knowledge this man prizes best + Seems fantastic to the rest: + Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, + Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, + Boughs on which the wild bees settle, + Tints that spot the violet's petal, + Why Nature loves the number five, + And why the star-form she repeats: + Lover of all things alive, + Wonderer at all he meets, + Wonderer chiefly at himself, + Who can tell him what he is? + Or how meet in human elf + Coming and past eternities? + + 2 + + And such I knew, a forest seer, + A minstrel of the natural year, + Foreteller of the vernal ides, + Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, + A lover true, who knew by heart + Each joy the mountain dales impart; + It seemed that Nature could not raise + A plant in any secret place, + In quaking bog, on snowy hill, + Beneath the grass that shades the rill, + Under the snow, between the rocks, + In damp fields known to bird and fox. + But he would come in the very hour + It opened in its virgin bower, + As if a sunbeam showed the place, + And tell its long-descended race. + It seemed as if the breezes brought him, + It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; + As if by secret sight he knew + Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. + Many haps fall in the field + Seldom seen by wishful eyes, + But all her shows did Nature yield, + To please and win this pilgrim wise. + He saw the partridge drum in the woods; + He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; + He found the tawny thrushes' broods; + And the shy hawk did wait for him; + What others did at distance hear, + And guessed within the thicket's gloom, + Was shown to this philosopher, + And at his bidding seemed to come. + + 3 + + In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang + Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; + He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon + The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; + Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, + And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. + He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, + The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, + And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, + Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. + He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, + With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,— + One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, + Declares the close of its green century. + Low lies the plant to whose creation went + Sweet influence from every element; + Whose living towers the years conspired to build, + Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. + Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, + He roamed, content alike with man and beast. + Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; + There the red morning touched him with its light. + Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, + So long he roved at will the boundless shade. + The timid it concerns to ask their way, + And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, + To make no step until the event is known, + And ills to come as evils past bemoan. + Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps + To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; + Go where he will, the wise man is at home, + His hearth the earth,—his hall the azure dome; + Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road + By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. + + 4 + + 'T was one of the charmèd days + When the genius of God doth flow; + The wind may alter twenty ways, + A tempest cannot blow; + It may blow north, it still is warm; + Or south, it still is clear; + Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; + Or west, no thunder fear. + The musing peasant, lowly great, + Beside the forest water sate; + The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown + Composed the network of his throne; + The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, + Was burnished to a floor of glass, + Painted with shadows green and proud + Of the tree and of the cloud. + He was the heart of all the scene; + On him the sun looked more serene; + To hill and cloud his face was known,— + It seemed the likeness of their own; + They knew by secret sympathy + The public child of earth and sky. + 'You ask,' he said, 'what guide + Me through trackless thickets led, + Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. + I found the water's bed. + The watercourses were my guide; + I travelled grateful by their side, + Or through their channel dry; + They led me through the thicket damp, + Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, + Through beds of granite cut my road, + And their resistless friendship showed. + The falling waters led me, + The foodful waters fed me, + And brought me to the lowest land, + Unerring to the ocean sand. + The moss upon the forest bark + Was pole-star when the night was dark; + The purple berries in the wood + Supplied me necessary food; + For Nature ever faithful is + To such as trust her faithfulness. + When the forest shall mislead me, + When the night and morning lie, + When sea and land refuse to feed me, + 'T will be time enough to die; + Then will yet my mother yield + A pillow in her greenest field, + Nor the June flowers scorn to cover + The clay of their departed lover.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOODNOTES II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>As sunbeams stream through liberal space</i> + <i>And nothing jostle or displace,</i> + <i>So waved the pine-tree through my thought</i> + <i>And fanned the dreams it never brought.</i> + + 'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? + Come to me,' + Quoth the pine-tree, + 'I am the giver of honor. + My garden is the cloven rock, + And my manure the snow; + And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, + In summer's scorching glow. + He is great who can live by me: + The rough and bearded forester + Is better than the lord; + God fills the script and canister, + Sin piles the loaded board. + The lord is the peasant that was, + The peasant the lord that shall be; + The lord is hay, the peasant grass, + One dry, and one the living tree. + Who liveth by the ragged pine + Foundeth a heroic line; + Who liveth in the palace hall + Waneth fast and spendeth all. + He goes to my savage haunts, + With his chariot and his care; + My twilight realm he disenchants, + And finds his prison there. + + 'What prizes the town and the tower? + Only what the pine-tree yields; + Sinew that subdued the fields; + The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods + Chants his hymn to hills and floods, + Whom the city's poisoning spleen + Made not pale, or fat, or lean; + Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, + Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, + In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, + In whose feet the lion rusheth, + Iron arms, and iron mould, + That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. + I give my rafters to his boat, + My billets to his boiler's throat, + And I will swim the ancient sea + To float my child to victory, + And grant to dwellers with the pine + Dominion o'er the palm and vine. + Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, + Unnerves his strength, invites his end. + Cut a bough from my parent stem, + And dip it in thy porcelain vase; + A little while each russet gem + Will swell and rise with wonted grace; + But when it seeks enlarged supplies, + The orphan of the forest dies. + Whoso walks in solitude + And inhabiteth the wood, + Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, + Before the money-loving herd, + Into that forester shall pass, + From these companions, power and grace. + Clean shall he be, without, within, + From the old adhering sin, + All ill dissolving in the light + Of his triumphant piercing sight: + Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; + Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; + Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, + And of all other men desired. + On him the light of star and moon + Shall fall with purer radiance down; + All constellations of the sky + Shed their virtue through his eye. + Him Nature giveth for defence + His formidable innocence; + The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, + All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; + He shall meet the speeding year, + Without wailing, without fear; + He shall be happy in his love, + Like to like shall joyful prove; + He shall be happy whilst he wooes, + Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. + But if with gold she bind her hair, + And deck her breast with diamond, + Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, + Though thou lie alone on the ground. + + 'Heed the old oracles, + Ponder my spells; + Song wakes in my pinnacles + When the wind swells. + Soundeth the prophetic wind, + The shadows shake on the rock behind, + And the countless leaves of the pine are strings + Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. + Hearken! Hearken! + If thou wouldst know the mystic song + Chanted when the sphere was young. + Aloft, abroad, the paean swells; + O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? + O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? + 'Tis the chronicle of art. + To the open ear it sings + Sweet the genesis of things, + Of tendency through endless ages, + Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, + Of rounded worlds, of space and time, + Of the old flood's subsiding slime, + Of chemic matter, force and form, + Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: + The rushing metamorphosis + Dissolving all that fixture is, + Melts things that be to things that seem, + And solid nature to a dream. + O, listen to the undersong, + The ever old, the ever young; + And, far within those cadent pauses, + The chorus of the ancient Causes! + Delights the dreadful Destiny + To fling his voice into the tree, + And shock thy weak ear with a note + Breathed from the everlasting throat. + In music he repeats the pang + Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. + O mortal! thy ears are stones; + These echoes are laden with tones + Which only the pure can hear; + Thou canst not catch what they recite + Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, + Of man to come, of human life, + Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' + + Once again the pine-tree sung:— + 'Speak not thy speech my boughs among: + Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; + My hours are peaceful centuries. + Talk no more with feeble tongue; + No more the fool of space and time, + Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. + Only thy Americans + Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, + But the runes that I rehearse + Understands the universe; + The least breath my boughs which tossed + Brings again the Pentecost; + To every soul resounding clear + In a voice of solemn cheer,— + "Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" + And they reply, "Forever mine!" + My branches speak Italian, + English, German, Basque, Castilian, + Mountain speech to Highlanders, + Ocean tongues to islanders, + To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, + To each his bosom-secret say. + + 'Come learn with me the fatal song + Which knits the world in music strong, + Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, + Of things with things, of times with times, + Primal chimes of sun and shade, + Of sound and echo, man and maid, + The land reflected in the flood, + Body with shadow still pursued. + For Nature beats in perfect tune, + And rounds with rhyme her every rune, + Whether she work in land or sea, + Or hide underground her alchemy. + Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, + Or dip thy paddle in the lake, + But it carves the bow of beauty there, + And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. + The wood is wiser far than thou; + The wood and wave each other know + Not unrelated, unaffied, + But to each thought and thing allied, + Is perfect Nature's every part, + Rooted in the mighty Heart, + But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, + Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, + Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? + Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? + Who thee divorced, deceived and left? + Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, + And torn the ensigns from thy brow, + And sunk the immortal eye so low? + Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, + Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender + For royal man;—they thee confess + An exile from the wilderness,— + The hills where health with health agrees, + And the wise soul expels disease. + Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign + By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. + When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, + Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, + To thee the horizon shall express + But emptiness on emptiness; + There lives no man of Nature's worth + In the circle of the earth; + And to thine eye the vast skies fall, + Dire and satirical, + On clucking hens and prating fools, + On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. + And thou shalt say to the Most High, + "Godhead! all this astronomy, + And fate and practice and invention, + Strong art and beautiful pretension, + This radiant pomp of sun and star, + Throes that were, and worlds that are, + Behold! were in vain and in vain;— + It cannot be,—I will look again. + Surely now will the curtain rise, + And earth's fit tenant me surprise;— + But the curtain doth <i>not</i> rise, + And Nature has miscarried wholly + Into failure, into folly." + + 'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, + Blessed Nature so to see. + Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, + And heal the hurts which sin has made. + I see thee in the crowd alone; + I will be thy companion. + Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, + And build to them a final tomb; + Let the starred shade that nightly falls + Still celebrate their funerals, + And the bell of beetle and of bee + Knell their melodious memory. + Behind thee leave thy merchandise, + Thy churches and thy charities; + And leave thy peacock wit behind; + Enough for thee the primal mind + That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: + Leave all thy pedant lore apart; + God hid the whole world in thy heart. + Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, + Gives all to them who all renounce. + The rain comes when the wind calls; + The river knows the way to the sea; + Without a pilot it runs and falls, + Blessing all lands with its charity; + The sea tosses and foams to find + Its way up to the cloud and wind; + The shadow sits close to the flying ball; + The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; + And thou,—go burn thy wormy pages,— + Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. + Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain + To find what bird had piped the strain:— + Seek not, and the little eremite + Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. + + 'Hearken once more! + I will tell thee the mundane lore. + Older am I than thy numbers wot, + Change I may, but I pass not. + Hitherto all things fast abide, + And anchored in the tempest ride. + Trenchant time behoves to hurry + All to yean and all to bury: + All the forms are fugitive, + But the substances survive. + Ever fresh the broad creation, + A divine improvisation, + From the heart of God proceeds, + A single will, a million deeds. + Once slept the world an egg of stone, + And pulse, and sound, and light was none; + And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion + And the vast mass became vast ocean. + Onward and on, the eternal Pan, + Who layeth the world's incessant plan, + Halteth never in one shape, + But forever doth escape, + Like wave or flame, into new forms + Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. + I, that to-day am a pine, + Yesterday was a bundle of grass. + He is free and libertine, + Pouring of his power the wine + To every age, to every race; + Unto every race and age + He emptieth the beverage; + Unto each, and unto all, + Maker and original. + The world is the ring of his spells, + And the play of his miracles. + As he giveth to all to drink, + Thus or thus they are and think. + With one drop sheds form and feature; + With the next a special nature; + The third adds heat's indulgent spark; + The fourth gives light which eats the dark; + Into the fifth himself he flings, + And conscious Law is King of kings. + As the bee through the garden ranges, + From world to world the godhead changes; + As the sheep go feeding in the waste, + From form to form He maketh haste; + This vault which glows immense with light + Is the inn where he lodges for a night. + What recks such Traveller if the bowers + Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers + A bunch of fragrant lilies be, + Or the stars of eternity? + Alike to him the better, the worse,— + The glowing angel, the outcast corse. + Thou metest him by centuries, + And lo! he passes like the breeze; + Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, + He hides in pure transparency; + Thou askest in fountains and in fires, + He is the essence that inquires. + He is the axis of the star; + He is the sparkle of the spar; + He is the heart of every creature; + He is the meaning of each feature; + And his mind is the sky. + Than all it holds more deep, more high.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONADNOC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thousand minstrels woke within me, + 'Our music's in the hills;'— + Gayest pictures rose to win me, + Leopard-colored rills. + 'Up!—If thou knew'st who calls + To twilight parks of beech and pine, + High over the river intervals, + Above the ploughman's highest line, + Over the owner's farthest walls! + Up! where the airy citadel + O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell! + Let not unto the stones the Day + Her lily and rose, her sea and land display. + Read the celestial sign! + Lo! the south answers to the north; + Bookworm, break this sloth urbane; + A greater spirit bids thee forth + Than the gray dreams which thee detain. + Mark how the climbing Oreads + Beckon thee to their arcades; + Youth, for a moment free as they, + Teach thy feet to feel the ground, + Ere yet arrives the wintry day + When Time thy feet has bound. + Take the bounty of thy birth, + Taste the lordship of the earth.' + + I heard, and I obeyed,— + Assured that he who made the claim, + Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid. + Ere yet the summoning voice was still, + I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill. + From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed + Like ample banner flung abroad + To all the dwellers in the plains + Round about, a hundred miles, + With salutation to the sea and to the bordering isles. + In his own loom's garment dressed, + By his proper bounty blessed, + Fast abides this constant giver, + Pouring many a cheerful river; + To far eyes, an aerial isle + Unploughed, which finer spirits pile, + Which morn and crimson evening paint + For bard, for lover and for saint; + An eyemark and the country's core, + Inspirer, prophet evermore; + Pillar which God aloft had set + So that men might it not forget; + It should be their life's ornament, + And mix itself with each event; + Gauge and calendar and dial, + Weatherglass and chemic phial, + Garden of berries, perch of birds, + Pasture of pool-haunting herds, + Graced by each change of sum untold, + Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold. + + The Titan heeds his sky-affairs, + Rich rents and wide alliance shares; + Mysteries of color daily laid + By morn and eve in light and shade; + And sweet varieties of chance, + And the mystic seasons' dance; + And thief-like step of liberal hours + Thawing snow-drift into flowers. + O, wondrous craft of plant and stone + By eldest science wrought and shown! + + 'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here! + Fair fortunes to the mountaineer! + Boon Nature to his poorest shed + Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.' + Intent, I searched the region round, + And in low hut the dweller found: + Woe is me for my hope's downfall! + Is yonder squalid peasant all + That this proud nursery could breed + For God's vicegerency and stead? + Time out of mind, this forge of ores; + Quarry of spars in mountain pores; + Old cradle, hunting-ground and bier + Of wolf and otter, bear and deer; + Well-built abode of many a race; + Tower of observance searching space; + Factory of river and of rain; + Link in the Alps' globe-girding chain; + By million changes skilled to tell + What in the Eternal standeth well, + And what obedient Nature can;— + Is this colossal talisman + Kindly to plant and blood and kind, + But speechless to the master's mind? + I thought to find the patriots + In whom the stock of freedom roots; + To myself I oft recount + Tales of many a famous mount,— + Wales, Scotland, Uri, Hungary's dells: + Bards, Roys, Scanderbegs and Tells; + And think how Nature in these towers + Uplifted shall condense her powers, + And lifting man to the blue deep + Where stars their perfect courses keep, + Like wise preceptor, lure his eye + To sound the science of the sky, + And carry learning to its height + Of untried power and sane delight: + The Indian cheer, the frosty skies, + Rear purer wits, inventive eyes,— + Eyes that frame cities where none be, + And hands that stablish what these see: + And by the moral of his place + Hint summits of heroic grace; + Man in these crags a fastness find + To fight pollution of the mind; + In the wide thaw and ooze of wrong, + Adhere like this foundation strong, + The insanity of towns to stem + With simpleness for stratagem. + But if the brave old mould is broke, + And end in churls the mountain folk + In tavern cheer and tavern joke, + Sink, O mountain, in the swamp! + Hide in thy skies, O sovereign lamp! + Perish like leaves, the highland breed + No sire survive, no son succeed! + + Soft! let not the offended muse + Toil's hard hap with scorn accuse. + Many hamlets sought I then, + Many farms of mountain men. + Rallying round a parish steeple + Nestle warm the highland people, + Coarse and boisterous, yet mild, + Strong as giant, slow as child. + Sweat and season are their arts, + Their talismans are ploughs and carts; + And well the youngest can command + Honey from the frozen land; + With cloverheads the swamp adorn, + Change the running sand to corn; + For wolf and fox, bring lowing herds, + And for cold mosses, cream and curds: + Weave wood to canisters and mats; + Drain sweet maple juice in vats. + No bird is safe that cuts the air + From their rifle or their snare; + No fish, in river or in lake, + But their long hands it thence will take; + Whilst the country's flinty face, + Like wax, their fashioning skill betrays, + To fill the hollows, sink the hills, + Bridge gulfs, drain swamps, build dams and mills, + And fit the bleak and howling waste + For homes of virtue, sense and taste. + The World-soul knows his own affair, + Forelooking, when he would prepare + For the next ages, men of mould + Well embodied, well ensouled, + He cools the present's fiery glow, + Sets the life-pulse strong but slow: + Bitter winds and fasts austere + His quarantines and grottoes, where + He slowly cures decrepit flesh, + And brings it infantile and fresh. + Toil and tempest are the toys + And games to breathe his stalwart boys: + They bide their time, and well can prove, + If need were, their line from Jove; + Of the same stuff, and so allayed, + As that whereof the sun is made, + And of the fibre, quick and strong, + Whose throbs are love, whose thrills are song. + + Now in sordid weeds they sleep, + In dulness now their secret keep; + Yet, will you learn our ancient speech, + These the masters who can teach. + Fourscore or a hundred words + All their vocal muse affords; + But they turn them in a fashion + Past clerks' or statesmen's art or passion. + I can spare the college bell, + And the learned lecture, well; + Spare the clergy and libraries, + Institutes and dictionaries, + For that hardy English root + Thrives here, unvalued, underfoot. + Rude poets of the tavern hearth, + Squandering your unquoted mirth, + Which keeps the ground and never soars, + While Jake retorts and Reuben roars; + Scoff of yeoman strong and stark, + Goes like bullet to its mark; + While the solid curse and jeer + Never balk the waiting ear. + + On the summit as I stood, + O'er the floor of plain and flood + Seemed to me, the towering hill + Was not altogether still, + But a quiet sense conveyed: + If I err not, thus it said:— + + 'Many feet in summer seek, + Oft, my far-appearing peak; + In the dreaded winter time, + None save dappling shadows climb, + Under clouds, my lonely head, + Old as the sun, old almost as the shade; + And comest thou + To see strange forests and new snow, + And tread uplifted land? + And leavest thou thy lowland race, + Here amid clouds to stand? + And wouldst be my companion + Where I gaze, and still shall gaze, + Through tempering nights and flashing days, + When forests fall, and man is gone, + Over tribes and over times, + At the burning Lyre, + Nearing me, + With its stars of northern fire, + In many a thousand years? + + 'Gentle pilgrim, if thou know + The gamut old of Pan, + And how the hills began, + The frank blessings of the hill + Fall on thee, as fall they will. + + 'Let him heed who can and will; + Enchantment fixed me here + To stand the hurts of time, until + In mightier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest + How the chemic eddies play, + Pole to pole, and what they say; + And that these gray crags + Not on crags are hung, + But beads are of a rosary + On prayer and music strung; + And, credulous, through the granite seeming, + Seest the smile of Reason beaming;— + Can thy style-discerning eye + The hidden-working Builder spy, + Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din, + With hammer soft as snowflake's flight;— + Knowest thou this? + O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! + Already my rocks lie light, + And soon my cone will spin. + + 'For the world was built in order, + And the atoms march in tune; + Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, + The sun obeys them and the moon. + Orb and atom forth they prance, + When they hear from far the rune; + None so backward in the troop, + When the music and the dance + Reach his place and circumstance, + But knows the sun-creating sound, + And, though a pyramid, will bound. + + 'Monadnoc is a mountain strong, + Tall and good my kind among; + But well I know, no mountain can, + Zion or Meru, measure with man. + For it is on zodiacs writ, + Adamant is soft to wit: + And when the greater comes again + With my secret in his brain, + I shall pass, as glides my shadow + Daily over hill and meadow. + + 'Through all time, in light, in gloom + Well I hear the approaching feet + On the flinty pathway beat + Of him that cometh, and shall come; + Of him who shall as lightly bear + My daily load of woods and streams, + As doth this round sky-cleaving boat + Which never strains its rocky beams; + Whose timbers, as they silent float, + Alps and Caucasus uprear, + And the long Alleghanies here, + And all town-sprinkled lands that be, + Sailing through stars with all their history. + + 'Every morn I lift my head, + See New England underspread, + South from Saint Lawrence to the Sound, + From Katskill east to the sea-bound. + Anchored fast for many an age, + I await the bard and sage, + Who, in large thoughts, like fair pearl-seed, + Shall string Monadnoc like a bead. + Comes that cheerful troubadour, + This mound shall throb his face before, + As when, with inward fires and pain, + It rose a bubble from the plain. + When he cometh, I shall shed, + From this wellspring in my head, + Fountain-drop of spicier worth + Than all vintage of the earth. + There's fruit upon my barren soil + Costlier far than wine or oil. + There's a berry blue and gold,— + Autumn-ripe, its juices hold + Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart, + Asia's rancor, Athens' art, + Slowsure Britain's secular might, + And the German's inward sight. + I will give my son to eat + Best of Pan's immortal meat, + Bread to eat, and juice to drain; + So the coinage of his brain + Shall not be forms of stars, but stars, + Nor pictures pale, but Jove and Mars, + He comes, but not of that race bred + Who daily climb my specular head. + Oft as morning wreathes my scarf, + Fled the last plumule of the Dark, + Pants up hither the spruce clerk + From South Cove and City Wharf. + I take him up my rugged sides, + Half-repentant, scant of breath,— + Bead-eyes my granite chaos show, + And my midsummer snow: + Open the daunting map beneath,— + All his county, sea and land, + Dwarfed to measure of his hand; + His day's ride is a furlong space, + His city-tops a glimmering haze. + I plant his eyes on the sky-hoop bounding; + "See there the grim gray rounding + Of the bullet of the earth + Whereon ye sail, + Tumbling steep + In the uncontinented deep." + He looks on that, and he turns pale. + 'T is even so, this treacherous kite, + Farm-furrowed, town-incrusted sphere, + Thoughtless of its anxious freight, + Plunges eyeless on forever; + And he, poor parasite, + Cooped in a ship he cannot steer,— + Who is the captain he knows not, + Port or pilot trows not,— + Risk or ruin he must share. + I scowl on him with my cloud, + With my north wind chill his blood; + I lame him, clattering down the rocks; + And to live he is in fear. + Then, at last, I let him down + Once more into his dapper town, + To chatter, frightened, to his clan + And forget me if he can.' + + As in the old poetic fame + The gods are blind and lame, + And the simular despite + Betrays the more abounding might, + So call not waste that barren cone + Above the floral zone, + Where forests starve: + It is pure use;— + What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind + Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse? + + Ages are thy days, + Thou grand affirmer of the present tense, + And type of permanence! + Firm ensign of the fatal Being, + Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief, + That will not bide the seeing! + + Hither we bring + Our insect miseries to thy rocks; + And the whole flight, with folded wing, + Vanish, and end their murmuring,— + Vanish beside these dedicated blocks, + Which who can tell what mason laid? + Spoils of a front none need restore, + Replacing frieze and architrave;— + Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave; + Still is the haughty pile erect + Of the old building Intellect. + + Complement of human kind, + Holding us at vantage still, + Our sumptuous indigence, + O barren mound, thy plenties fill! + We fool and prate; + Thou art silent and sedate. + To myriad kinds and times one sense + The constant mountain doth dispense; + Shedding on all its snows and leaves, + One joy it joys, one grief it grieves. + Thou seest, O watchman tall, + Our towns and races grow and fall, + And imagest the stable good + For which we all our lifetime grope, + In shifting form the formless mind, + And though the substance us elude, + We in thee the shadow find. + Thou, in our astronomy + An opaker star, + Seen haply from afar, + Above the horizon's hoop, + A moment, by the railway troop, + As o'er some bolder height they speed,— + By circumspect ambition, + By errant gain, + By feasters and the frivolous,— + Recallest us, + And makest sane. + Mute orator! well skilled to plead, + And send conviction without phrase, + Thou dost succor and remede + The shortness of our days, + And promise, on thy Founder's truth, + Long morrow to this mortal youth. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FABLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; + Bun replied, + 'You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere. + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING + + Though loath to grieve + The evil time's sole patriot, + I cannot leave + My honied thought + For the priest's cant, + Or statesman's rant. + + If I refuse + My study for their politique, + Which at the best is trick, + The angry Muse + Puts confusion in my brain. + + But who is he that prates + Of the culture of mankind, + Of better arts and life? + Go, blindworm, go, + Behold the famous States + Harrying Mexico + With rifle and with knife! + + Or who, with accent bolder, + Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer? + I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook! + And in thy valleys, Agiochook! + The jackals of the negro-holder. + + The God who made New Hampshire + Taunted the lofty land + With little men;— + Small bat and wren + House in the oak:— + If earth-fire cleave + The upheaved land, and bury the folk, + The southern crocodile would grieve. + Virtue palters; Right is hence; + Freedom praised, but hid; + Funeral eloquence + Rattles the coffin-lid. + + What boots thy zeal, + O glowing friend, + That would indignant rend + The northland from the south? + Wherefore? to what good end? + Boston Bay and Bunker Hill + Would serve things still;— + Things are of the snake. + + The horseman serves the horse, + The neatherd serves the neat, + The merchant serves the purse, + The eater serves his meat; + 'T is the day of the chattel, + Web to weave, and corn to grind; + Things are in the saddle, + And ride mankind. + + There are two laws discrete, + Not reconciled,— + Law for man, and law for thing; + The last builds town and fleet, + But it runs wild, + And doth the man unking. + + 'T is fit the forest fall, + The steep be graded, + The mountain tunnelled, + The sand shaded, + The orchard planted, + The glebe tilled, + The prairie granted, + The steamer built. + + Let man serve law for man; + Live for friendship, live for love, + For truth's and harmony's behoof; + The state may follow how it can, + As Olympus follows Jove. + + Yet do not I implore + The wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods, + Nor bid the unwilling senator + Ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes. + Every one to his chosen work;— + Foolish hands may mix and mar; + Wise and sure the issues are. + Round they roll till dark is light, + Sex to sex, and even to odd;— + The over-god + Who marries Right to Might, + Who peoples, unpeoples,— + He who exterminates + Races by stronger races, + Black by white faces,— + Knows to bring honey + Out of the lion; + Grafts gentlest scion + On pirate and Turk. + + The Cossack eats Poland, + Like stolen fruit; + Her last noble is ruined, + Her last poet mute: + Straight, into double band + The victors divide; + Half for freedom strike and stand;— + The astonished Muse finds thousands at her side. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ASTRAEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each the herald is who wrote + His rank, and quartered his own coat. + There is no king nor sovereign state + That can fix a hero's rate; + Each to all is venerable, + Cap-a-pie invulnerable, + Until he write, where all eyes rest, + Slave or master on his breast. + I saw men go up and down, + In the country and the town, + With this tablet on their neck, + 'Judgment and a judge we seek.' + Not to monarchs they repair, + Nor to learned jurist's chair; + But they hurry to their peers, + To their kinsfolk and their dears; + Louder than with speech they pray,— + 'What am I? companion, say.' + And the friend not hesitates + To assign just place and mates; + Answers not in word or letter, + Yet is understood the better; + Each to each a looking-glass, + Reflects his figure that doth pass. + Every wayfarer he meets + What himself declared repeats, + What himself confessed records, + Sentences him in his words; + The form is his own corporal form, + And his thought the penal worm. + Yet shine forever virgin minds, + Loved by stars and purest winds, + Which, o'er passion throned sedate, + Have not hazarded their state; + Disconcert the searching spy, + Rendering to a curious eye + The durance of a granite ledge. + To those who gaze from the sea's edge + It is there for benefit; + It is there for purging light; + There for purifying storms; + And its depths reflect all forms; + It cannot parley with the mean,— + Pure by impure is not seen. + For there's no sequestered grot, + Lone mountain tarn, or isle forgot, + But Justice, journeying in the sphere, + Daily stoops to harbor there. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE + + I serve you not, if you I follow, + Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; + And bend my fancy to your leading, + All too nimble for my treading. + When the pilgrimage is done, + And we've the landscape overrun, + I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, + And your heart is unsupported. + Vainly valiant, you have missed + The manhood that should yours resist,— + Its complement; but if I could, + In severe or cordial mood, + Lead you rightly to my altar, + Where the wisest Muses falter, + And worship that world-warming spark + Which dazzles me in midnight dark, + Equalizing small and large, + While the soul it doth surcharge, + Till the poor is wealthy grown, + And the hermit never alone,— + The traveller and the road seem one + With the errand to be done,— + That were a man's and lover's part, + That were Freedom's whitest chart. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why should I keep holiday + When other men have none? + Why but because, when these are gay, + I sit and mourn alone? + + And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, + Should mine alone be dumb? + Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, + And now their hour is come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORBEARANCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? + At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? + Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? + And loved so well a high behavior, + In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, + Nobility more nobly to repay? + O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The prosperous and beautiful + To me seem not to wear + The yoke of conscience masterful, + Which galls me everywhere. + + I cannot shake off the god; + On my neck he makes his seat; + I look at my face in the glass,— + My eyes his eyeballs meet. + + Enchanters! Enchantresses! + Your gold makes you seem wise; + The morning mist within your grounds + More proudly rolls, more softly lies. + + Yet spake yon purple mountain, + Yet said yon ancient wood, + That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, + Leads all souls to the Good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORERUNNERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Long I followed happy guides, + I could never reach their sides; + Their step is forth, and, ere the day + Breaks up their leaguer, and away. + Keen my sense, my heart was young, + Right good-will my sinews strung, + But no speed of mine avails + To hunt upon their shining trails. + On and away, their hasting feet + Make the morning proud and sweet; + Flowers they strew,—I catch the scent; + Or tone of silver instrument + Leaves on the wind melodious trace; + Yet I could never see their face. + On eastern hills I see their smokes, + Mixed with mist by distant lochs. + I met many travellers + Who the road had surely kept; + They saw not my fine revellers,— + These had crossed them while they slept. + Some had heard their fair report, + In the country or the court. + Fleetest couriers alive + Never yet could once arrive, + As they went or they returned, + At the house where these sojourned. + Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, + Though they are not overtaken; + In sleep their jubilant troop is near,— + I tuneful voices overhear; + It may be in wood or waste,— + At unawares 't is come and past. + Their near camp my spirit knows + By signs gracious as rainbows. + I thenceforward and long after + Listen for their harp-like laughter, + And carry in my heart, for days, + Peace that hallows rudest ways. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SURSUM CORDA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Seek not the spirit, if it hide + Inexorable to thy zeal: + Trembler, do not whine and chide: + Art thou not also real? + Stoop not then to poor excuse; + Turn on the accuser roundly; say, + 'Here am I, here will I abide + Forever to myself soothfast; + Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' + Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, + For only it can absolutely deal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE TO BEAUTY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who gave thee, O Beauty, + The keys of this breast,— + Too credulous lover + Of blest and unblest? + Say, when in lapsed ages + Thee knew I of old? + Or what was the service + For which I was sold? + When first my eyes saw thee, + I found me thy thrall, + By magical drawings, + Sweet tyrant of all! + I drank at thy fountain + False waters of thirst; + Thou intimate stranger, + Thou latest and first! + Thy dangerous glances + Make women of men; + New-born, we are melting + Into nature again. + + Lavish, lavish promiser, + Nigh persuading gods to err! + Guest of million painted forms, + Which in turn thy glory warms! + The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, + The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, + The swinging spider's silver line, + The ruby of the drop of wine, + The shining pebble of the pond, + Thou inscribest with a bond, + In thy momentary play, + Would bankrupt nature to repay. + + Ah, what avails it + To hide or to shun + Whom the Infinite One + Hath granted his throne? + The heaven high over + Is the deep's lover; + The sun and sea, + Informed by thee, + Before me run + And draw me on, + Yet fly me still, + As Fate refuses + To me the heart Fate for me chooses. + Is it that my opulent soul + Was mingled from the generous whole; + Sea-valleys and the deep of skies + Furnished several supplies; + And the sands whereof I'm made + Draw me to them, self-betrayed? + + I turn the proud portfolio + Which holds the grand designs + Of Salvator, of Guercino, + And Piranesi's lines. + I hear the lofty paeans + Of the masters of the shell, + Who heard the starry music + And recount the numbers well; + Olympian bards who sung + Divine Ideas below, + Which always find us young + And always keep us so. + Oft, in streets or humblest places, + I detect far-wandered graces, + Which, from Eden wide astray, + In lowly homes have lost their way. + + Thee gliding through the sea of form, + Like the lightning through the storm, + Somewhat not to be possessed, + Somewhat not to be caressed, + No feet so fleet could ever find, + No perfect form could ever bind. + Thou eternal fugitive, + Hovering over all that live, + Quick and skilful to inspire + Sweet, extravagant desire, + Starry space and lily-bell + Filling with thy roseate smell, + Wilt not give the lips to taste + Of the nectar which thou hast. + + All that's good and great with thee + Works in close conspiracy; + Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely + To report thy features only, + And the cold and purple morning + Itself with thoughts of thee adorning; + The leafy dell, the city mart, + Equal trophies of thine art; + E'en the flowing azure air + Thou hast touched for my despair; + And, if I languish into dreams, + Again I meet the ardent beams. + Queen of things! I dare not die + In Being's deeps past ear and eye; + Lest there I find the same deceiver + And be the sport of Fate forever. + Dread Power, but dear! if God thou be, + Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIVE ALL TO LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give all to love; + Obey thy heart; + Friends, kindred, days, + Estate, good-fame, + Plans, credit and the Muse,— + Nothing refuse. + + 'T is a brave master; + Let it have scope: + Follow it utterly, + Hope beyond hope: + High and more high + It dives into noon, + With wing unspent, + Untold intent; + But it is a god, + Knows its own path + And the outlets of the sky. + + It was never for the mean; + It requireth courage stout. + Souls above doubt, + Valor unbending, + It will reward,— + They shall return + More than they were, + And ever ascending. + + Leave all for love; + Yet, hear me, yet, + One word more thy heart behoved, + One pulse more of firm endeavor,— + Keep thee to-day, + To-morrow, forever, + Free as an Arab + Of thy beloved. + + Cling with life to the maid; + But when the surprise, + First vague shadow of surmise + Flits across her bosom young, + Of a joy apart from thee, + Free be she, fancy-free; + Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, + Nor the palest rose she flung + From her summer diadem. + + Though thou loved her as thyself, + As a self of purer clay, + Though her parting dims the day, + Stealing grace from all alive; + Heartily know, + When half-gods go. + The gods arrive. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The green grass is bowing, + The morning wind is in it; + 'T is a tune worth thy knowing, + Though it change every minute. + + 'T is a tune of the Spring; + Every year plays it over + To the robin on the wing, + And to the pausing lover. + + O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, + Goes light the nimble zephyr; + The Flowers—tiny sect of Shakers— + Worship him ever. + + Hark to the winning sound! + They summon thee, dearest,— + Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, + Nor yet thou appearest. + + 'O hasten;' 't is our time, + Ere yet the red Summer + Scorch our delicate prime, + Loved of bee,—the tawny hummer. + + 'O pride of thy race! + Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, + If our brief tribe miss thy face, + We poor New England flowers. + + 'Fairest, choose the fairest members + Of our lithe society; + June's glories and September's + Show our love and piety. + + 'Thou shalt command us all,— + April's cowslip, summer's clover, + To the gentian in the fall, + Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. + + 'O come, then, quickly come! + We are budding, we are blowing; + And the wind that we perfume + Sings a tune that's worth the knowing.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO ELLEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And Ellen, when the graybeard years + Have brought us to life's evening hour, + And all the crowded Past appears + A tiny scene of sun and shower, + + Then, if I read the page aright + Where Hope, the soothsayer, reads our lot, + Thyself shalt own the page was bright, + Well that we loved, woe had we not, + + When Mirth is dumb and Flattery's fled, + And mute thy music's dearest tone, + When all but Love itself is dead + And all but deathless Reason gone. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO EVA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O fair and stately maid, whose eyes + Were kindled in the upper skies + At the same torch that lighted mine; + For so I must interpret still + Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, + A sympathy divine. + + Ah! let me blameless gaze upon + Features that seem at heart my own; + Nor fear those watchful sentinels, + Who charm the more their glance forbids, + Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, + With fire that draws while it repels. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LINES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WRITTEN BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER SHORTLY BEFORE + HER MARRIAGE TO MR. EMERSON + + Love scatters oil + On Life's dark sea, + Sweetens its toil— + Our helmsman he. + + Around him hover + Odorous clouds; + Under this cover + His arrows he shrouds. + + The cloud was around me, + I knew not why + Such sweetness crowned me. + While Time shot by. + + No pain was within, + But calm delight, + Like a world without sin, + Or a day without night. + + The shafts of the god + Were tipped with down, + For they drew no blood, + And they knit no frown. + + I knew of them not + Until Cupid laughed loud, + And saying "You're caught!" + Flew off in the cloud. + + O then I awoke, + And I lived but to sigh, + Till a clear voice spoke,— + And my tears are dry. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VIOLET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER + + Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; + Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; + Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, + Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? + + Why wilt thou live when none around reflects thy pensive ray? + Thou bloomest here a lonely thing in the clear autumn day. + The tall green trees, that shelter thee, their last gay dress put on; + There will be nought to shelter thee when their sweet leaves are gone. + + O Violet, like thee, how blest could I lie down and die, + When summer light is fading, and autumn breezes sigh; + When Winter reigned I'd close my eye, but wake with bursting Spring, + And live with living nature, a pure rejoicing thing. + + I had a sister once who seemed just like a violet; + Her morning sun shone bright and calmly purely set; + When the violets were in their shrouds, and Summer in its pride, + She laid her hopes at rest, and in the year's rich beauty died. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMULET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; + Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings <i>since</i> it came. + + Give me an amulet + That keeps intelligence with you,— + Red when you love, and rosier red, + And when you love not, pale and blue. + + Alas! that neither bonds nor vows + Can certify possession; + Torments me still the fear that love + Died in its last expression. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THINE EYES STILL SHINED + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + I lonely roved the land or sea: + As I behold yon evening star, + Which yet beholds not me. + + This morn I climbed the misty hill + And roamed the pastures through; + How danced thy form before my path + Amidst the deep-eyed dew! + + When the redbird spread his sable wing, + And showed his side of flame; + When the rosebud ripened to the rose, + In both I read thy name. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EROS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sense of the world is short,— + Long and various the report,— + To love and be beloved; + Men and gods have not outlearned it; + And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, + Not to be improved. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HERMIONE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On a mound an Arab lay, + And sung his sweet regrets + And told his amulets: + The summer bird + His sorrow heard, + And, when he heaved a sigh profound, + The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. + + 'If it be, as they said, she was not fair, + Beauty's not beautiful to me, + But sceptred genius, aye inorbed, + Culminating in her sphere. + This Hermione absorbed + The lustre of the land and ocean, + Hills and islands, cloud and tree, + In her form and motion. + + 'I ask no bauble miniature, + Nor ringlets dead + Shorn from her comely head, + Now that morning not disdains + Mountains and the misty plains + Her colossal portraiture; + They her heralds be, + Steeped in her quality, + And singers of her fame + Who is their Muse and dame. + + 'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say. + Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, + Say, was it just, + In thee to frame, in me to trust, + Thou to the Syrian couldst belong? + + 'I am of a lineage + That each for each doth fast engage; + In old Bassora's schools, I seemed + Hermit vowed to books and gloom,— + Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom. + I was by thy touch redeemed; + When thy meteor glances came, + We talked at large of worldly fate, + And drew truly every trait. + + 'Once I dwelt apart, + Now I live with all; + As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side + Seems, by the traveller espied, + A door into the mountain heart, + So didst thou quarry and unlock + Highways for me through the rock. + + 'Now, deceived, thou wanderest + In strange lands unblest; + And my kindred come to soothe me. + Southwind is my next of blood; + He is come through fragrant wood, + Drugged with spice from climates warm, + And in every twinkling glade, + And twilight nook, + Unveils thy form. + Out of the forest way + Forth paced it yesterday; + And when I sat by the watercourse, + Watching the daylight fade, + It throbbed up from the brook. + + 'River and rose and crag and bird, + Frost and sun and eldest night, + To me their aid preferred, + To me their comfort plight;— + "Courage! we are thine allies, + And with this hint be wise,— + The chains of kind + The distant bind; + Deed thou doest she must do, + Above her will, be true; + And, in her strict resort + To winds and waterfalls + And autumn's sunlit festivals, + To music, and to music's thought, + Inextricably bound, + She shall find thee, and be found. + Follow not her flying feet; + Come to us herself to meet."' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + + Venus, when her son was lost, + Cried him up and down the coast, + In hamlets, palaces and parks, + And told the truant by his marks,— + Golden curls, and quiver and bow. + This befell how long ago! + Time and tide are strangely changed, + Men and manners much deranged: + None will now find Cupid latent + By this foolish antique patent. + He came late along the waste, + Shod like a traveller for haste; + With malice dared me to proclaim him, + That the maids and boys might name him. + + Boy no more, he wears all coats, + Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; + He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, + Nor chaplet on his head or hand. + Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,— + All the rest he can disguise. + In the pit of his eye's a spark + Would bring back day if it were dark; + And, if I tell you all my thought, + Though I comprehend it not, + In those unfathomable orbs + Every function he absorbs; + Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, + And write, and reason, and compute, + And ride, and run, and have, and hold, + And whine, and flatter, and regret, + And kiss, and couple, and beget, + By those roving eyeballs bold. + + Undaunted are their courages, + Right Cossacks in their forages; + Fleeter they than any creature,— + They are his steeds, and not his feature; + Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, + Restless, predatory, hasting; + And they pounce on other eyes + As lions on their prey; + And round their circles is writ, + Plainer than the day, + Underneath, within, above,— + Love—love—love—love. + He lives in his eyes; + There doth digest, and work, and spin, + And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; + He rolls them with delighted motion, + Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean. + Yet holds he them with tautest rein, + That they may seize and entertain + The glance that to their glance opposes, + Like fiery honey sucked from roses. + He palmistry can understand, + Imbibing virtue by his hand + As if it were a living root; + The pulse of hands will make him mute; + With all his force he gathers balms + Into those wise, thrilling palms. + + Cupid is a casuist, + A mystic and a cabalist,— + Can your lurking thought surprise, + And interpret your device. + He is versed in occult science, + In magic and in clairvoyance, + Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, + And Reason on her tiptoe pained + For aëry intelligence, + And for strange coincidence. + But it touches his quick heart + When Fate by omens takes his part, + And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere + Deeply soothe his anxious ear. + + Heralds high before him run; + He has ushers many a one; + He spreads his welcome where he goes, + And touches all things with his rose. + All things wait for and divine him,— + How shall I dare to malign him, + Or accuse the god of sport? + I must end my true report, + Painting him from head to foot, + In as far as I took note, + Trusting well the matchless power + Of this young-eyed emperor + Will clear his fame from every cloud + With the bards and with the crowd. + + He is wilful, mutable, + Shy, untamed, inscrutable, + Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. + Substance mixed of pure contraries; + His vice some elder virtue's token, + And his good is evil-spoken. + Failing sometimes of his own, + He is headstrong and alone; + He affects the wood and wild, + Like a flower-hunting child; + Buries himself in summer waves, + In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, + Loves nature like a hornèd cow, + Bird, or deer, or caribou. + + Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses! + He has a total world of wit; + O how wise are his discourses! + But he is the arch-hypocrite, + And, through all science and all art, + Seeks alone his counterpart. + He is a Pundit of the East, + He is an augur and a priest, + And his soul will melt in prayer, + But word and wisdom is a snare; + Corrupted by the present toy + He follows joy, and only joy. + There is no mask but he will wear; + He invented oaths to swear; + He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, + And holds all stars in his embrace. + He takes a sovran privilege + Not allowed to any liege; + For Cupid goes behind all law, + And right into himself does draw; + For he is sovereignly allied,— + Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,— + And interchangeably at one + With every king on every throne, + That no god dare say him nay, + Or see the fault, or seen betray; + He has the Muses by the heart, + And the stern Parcae on his part. + + His many signs cannot be told; + He has not one mode, but manifold, + Many fashions and addresses, + Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses. + He will preach like a friar, + And jump like Harlequin; + He will read like a crier, + And fight like a Paladin. + Boundless is his memory; + Plans immense his term prolong; + He is not of counted age, + Meaning always to be young. + And his wish is intimacy, + Intimater intimacy, + And a stricter privacy; + The impossible shall yet be done, + And, being two, shall still be one. + As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, + Then runs into a wave again, + So lovers melt their sundered selves, + Yet melted would be twain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Man was made of social earth, + Child and brother from his birth, + Tethered by a liquid cord + Of blood through veins of kindred poured. + Next his heart the fireside band + Of mother, father, sister, stand; + Names from awful childhood heard + Throbs of a wild religion stirred;— + Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; + Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, + Till Beauty came to snap all ties; + The maid, abolishing the past, + With lotus wine obliterates + Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, + And, by herself, supplants alone + Friends year by year more inly known. + When her calm eyes opened bright, + All else grew foreign in their light. + It was ever the self-same tale, + The first experience will not fail; + Only two in the garden walked, + And with snake and seraph talked. + + Close, close to men, + Like undulating layer of air, + Right above their heads, + The potent plain of Daemons spreads. + Stands to each human soul its own, + For watch and ward and furtherance, + In the snares of Nature's dance; + And the lustre and the grace + To fascinate each youthful heart, + Beaming from its counterpart, + Translucent through the mortal covers, + Is the Daemon's form and face. + To and fro the Genius hies,— + A gleam which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head, + And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. + Unknown, albeit lying near, + To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; + And they that swiftly come and go + Leave no track on the heavenly snow. + Sometimes the airy synod bends, + And the mighty choir descends, + And the brains of men thenceforth, + In crowded and in still resorts, + Teem with unwonted thoughts: + As, when a shower of meteors + Cross the orbit of the earth, + And, lit by fringent air, + Blaze near and far, + Mortals deem the planets bright + Have slipped their sacred bars, + And the lone seaman all the night + Sails, astonished, amid stars. + + Beauty of a richer vein, + Graces of a subtler strain, + Unto men these moonmen lend, + And our shrinking sky extend. + So is man's narrow path + By strength and terror skirted; + Also (from the song the wrath + Of the Genii be averted! + The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) + The Daemons are self-seeking: + Their fierce and limitary will + Draws men to their likeness still. + The erring painter made Love blind,— + Highest Love who shines on all; + Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted god, + None can bewilder; + Whose eyes pierce + The universe, + Path-finder, road-builder, + Mediator, royal giver; + Rightly seeing, rightly seen, + Of joyful and transparent mien. + 'T is a sparkle passing + From each to each, from thee to me, + To and fro perpetually; + Sharing all, daring all, + Levelling, displacing + Each obstruction, it unites + Equals remote, and seeming opposites. + And ever and forever Love + Delights to build a road: + Unheeded Danger near him strides, + Love laughs, and on a lion rides. + But Cupid wears another face, + Born into Daemons less divine: + His roses bleach apace, + His nectar smacks of wine. + The Daemon ever builds a wall, + Himself encloses and includes, + Solitude in solitudes: + In like sort his love doth fall. + He doth elect + The beautiful and fortunate, + And the sons of intellect, + And the souls of ample fate, + Who the Future's gates unbar,— + Minions of the Morning Star. + In his prowess he exults, + And the multitude insults. + His impatient looks devour + Oft the humble and the poor; + And, seeing his eye glare, + They drop their few pale flowers, + Gathered with hope to please, + Along the mountain towers,— + Lose courage, and despair. + He will never be gainsaid,— + Pitiless, will not be stayed; + His hot tyranny + Burns up every other tie. + Therefore comes an hour from Jove + Which his ruthless will defies, + And the dogs of Fate unties. + Shiver the palaces of glass; + Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, + Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt + Secure as in the zodiac's belt; + And the galleries and halls, + Wherein every siren sung, + Like a meteor pass. + For this fortune wanted root + In the core of God's abysm,— + Was a weed of self and schism; + And ever the Daemonic Love + Is the ancestor of wars + And the parent of remorse. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But God said, + 'I will have a purer gift; + There is smoke in the flame; + New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, + And love without a name. + Fond children, ye desire + To please each other well; + Another round, a higher, + Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, + And selfish preference forbear; + And in right deserving, + And without a swerving + Each from your proper state, + Weave roses for your mate. + + 'Deep, deep are loving eyes, + Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet; + And the point is paradise, + Where their glances meet: + Their reach shall yet be more profound, + And a vision without bound: + The axis of those eyes sun-clear + Be the axis of the sphere: + So shall the lights ye pour amain + Go, without check or intervals, + Through from the empyrean walls + Unto the same again.' + + Higher far into the pure realm, + Over sun and star, + Over the flickering Daemon film, + Thou must mount for love; + Into vision where all form + In one only form dissolves; + In a region where the wheel + On which all beings ride + Visibly revolves; + Where the starred, eternal worm + Girds the world with bound and term; + Where unlike things are like; + Where good and ill, + And joy and moan, + Melt into one. + + There Past, Present, Future, shoot + Triple blossoms from one root; + Substances at base divided, + In their summits are united; + There the holy essence rolls, + One through separated souls; + And the sunny Aeon sleeps + Folding Nature in its deeps, + And every fair and every good, + Known in part, or known impure, + To men below, + In their archetypes endure. + The race of gods, + Or those we erring own, + Are shadows flitting up and down + In the still abodes. + The circles of that sea are laws + Which publish and which hide the cause. + + Pray for a beam + Out of that sphere, + Thee to guide and to redeem. + O, what a load + Of care and toil, + By lying use bestowed, + From his shoulders falls who sees + The true astronomy, + The period of peace. + Counsel which the ages kept + Shall the well-born soul accept. + As the overhanging trees + Fill the lake with images,— + As garment draws the garment's hem, + Men their fortunes bring with them. + By right or wrong, + Lands and goods go to the strong. + Property will brutely draw + Still to the proprietor; + Silver to silver creep and wind, + And kind to kind. + + Nor less the eternal poles + Of tendency distribute souls. + There need no vows to bind + Whom not each other seek, but find. + They give and take no pledge or oath,— + Nature is the bond of both: + No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,— + Their noble meanings are their pawns. + Plain and cold is their address, + Power have they for tenderness; + And, so thoroughly is known + Each other's counsel by his own, + They can parley without meeting; + Need is none of forms of greeting; + They can well communicate + In their innermost estate; + When each the other shall avoid, + Shall each by each be most enjoyed. + + Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves + Do these celebrate their loves: + Not by jewels, feasts and savors, + Not by ribbons or by favors, + But by the sun-spark on the sea, + And the cloud-shadow on the lea, + The soothing lapse of morn to mirk, + And the cheerful round of work. + Their cords of love so public are, + They intertwine the farthest star: + The throbbing sea, the quaking earth, + Yield sympathy and signs of mirth; + Is none so high, so mean is none, + But feels and seals this union; + Even the fell Furies are appeased, + The good applaud, the lost are eased. + + Love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, + Bound for the just, but not beyond; + Not glad, as the low-loving herd, + Of self in other still preferred, + But they have heartily designed + The benefit of broad mankind. + And they serve men austerely, + After their own genius, clearly, + Without a false humility; + For this is Love's nobility,— + Not to scatter bread and gold, + Goods and raiment bought and sold; + But to hold fast his simple sense, + And speak the speech of innocence, + And with hand and body and blood, + To make his bosom-counsel good. + He that feeds men serveth few; + He serves all who dares be true. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE APOLOGY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Think me not unkind and rude + That I walk alone in grove and glen; + I go to the god of the wood + To fetch his word to men. + + Tax not my sloth that I + Fold my arms beside the brook; + Each cloud that floated in the sky + Writes a letter in my book. + + Chide me not, laborious band, + For the idle flowers I brought; + Every aster in my hand + Goes home loaded with a thought. + + There was never mystery + But 'tis figured in the flowers; + Was never secret history + But birds tell it in the bowers. + + One harvest from thy field + Homeward brought the oxen strong; + A second crop thine acres yield, + Which I gather in a song. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy trivial harp will never please + Or fill my craving ear; + Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, + Free, peremptory, clear. + No jingling serenader's art, + Nor tinkle of piano strings, + Can make the wild blood start + In its mystic springs. + The kingly bard + Must smite the chords rudely and hard, + As with hammer or with mace; + That they may render back + Artful thunder, which conveys + Secrets of the solar track, + Sparks of the supersolar blaze. + Merlin's blows are strokes of fate, + Chiming with the forest tone, + When boughs buffet boughs in the wood; + Chiming with the gasp and moan + Of the ice-imprisoned flood; + With the pulse of manly hearts; + With the voice of orators; + With the din of city arts; + With the cannonade of wars; + With the marches of the brave; + And prayers of might from martyrs' cave. + + Great is the art, + Great be the manners, of the bard. + He shall not his brain encumber + With the coil of rhythm and number; + But, leaving rule and pale forethought, + He shall aye climb + For his rhyme. + 'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, + 'In to the upper doors, + Nor count compartments of the floors, + But mount to paradise + By the stairway of surprise.' + + Blameless master of the games, + King of sport that never shames, + He shall daily joy dispense + Hid in song's sweet influence. + Forms more cheerly live and go, + What time the subtle mind + Sings aloud the tune whereto + Their pulses beat, + And march their feet, + And their members are combined. + + By Sybarites beguiled, + He shall no task decline; + Merlin's mighty line + Extremes of nature reconciled,— + Bereaved a tyrant of his will, + And made the lion mild. + Songs can the tempest still, + Scattered on the stormy air, + Mould the year to fair increase, + And bring in poetic peace. + + He shall not seek to weave, + In weak, unhappy times, + Efficacious rhymes; + Wait his returning strength. + Bird that from the nadir's floor + To the zenith's top can soar,— + The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length. + Nor profane affect to hit + Or compass that, by meddling wit, + Which only the propitious mind + Publishes when 't is inclined. + There are open hours + When the God's will sallies free, + And the dull idiot might see + The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;— + Sudden, at unawares, + Self-moved, fly-to the doors. + Nor sword of angels could reveal + What they conceal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The rhyme of the poet + Modulates the king's affairs; + Balance-loving Nature + Made all things in pairs. + To every foot its antipode; + Each color with its counter glowed; + To every tone beat answering tones, + Higher or graver; + Flavor gladly blends with flavor; + Leaf answers leaf upon the bough; + And match the paired cotyledons. + Hands to hands, and feet to feet, + In one body grooms and brides; + Eldest rite, two married sides + In every mortal meet. + Light's far furnace shines, + Smelting balls and bars, + Forging double stars, + Glittering twins and trines. + The animals are sick with love, + Lovesick with rhyme; + Each with all propitious Time + Into chorus wove. + + Like the dancers' ordered band, + Thoughts come also hand in hand; + In equal couples mated, + Or else alternated; + Adding by their mutual gage, + One to other, health and age. + Solitary fancies go + Short-lived wandering to and fro, + Most like to bachelors, + Or an ungiven maid, + Not ancestors, + With no posterity to make the lie afraid, + Or keep truth undecayed. + Perfect-paired as eagle's wings, + Justice is the rhyme of things; + Trade and counting use + The self-same tuneful muse; + And Nemesis, + Who with even matches odd, + Who athwart space redresses + The partial wrong, + Fills the just period, + And finishes the song. + + Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife, + Murmur in the house of life, + Sung by the Sisters as they spin; + In perfect time and measure they + Build and unbuild our echoing clay. + As the two twilights of the day + Fold us music-drunken in. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BACCHUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bring me wine, but wine which never grew + In the belly of the grape, + Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through, + Under the Andes to the Cape, + Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. + + Let its grapes the morn salute + From a nocturnal root, + Which feels the acrid juice + Of Styx and Erebus; + And turns the woe of Night, + By its own craft, to a more rich delight. + + We buy ashes for bread; + We buy diluted wine; + Give me of the true,— + Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled + Among the silver hills of heaven + Draw everlasting dew; + Wine of wine, + Blood of the world, + Form of forms, and mould of statures, + That I intoxicated, + And by the draught assimilated, + May float at pleasure through all natures; + The bird-language rightly spell, + And that which roses say so well. + + Wine that is shed + Like the torrents of the sun + Up the horizon walls, + Or like the Atlantic streams, which run + When the South Sea calls. + + Water and bread, + Food which needs no transmuting, + Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, + Wine which is already man, + Food which teach and reason can. + + Wine which Music is,— + Music and wine are one,— + That I, drinking this, + Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; + Kings unborn shall walk with me; + And the poor grass shall plot and plan + What it will do when it is man. + Quickened so, will I unlock + Every crypt of every rock. + + I thank the joyful juice + For all I know;— + Winds of remembering + Of the ancient being blow, + And seeming-solid walls of use + Open and flow. + + Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; + Retrieve the loss of me and mine! + Vine for vine be antidote, + And the grape requite the lote! + Haste to cure the old despair,— + Reason in Nature's lotus drenched, + The memory of ages quenched; + Give them again to shine; + Let wine repair what this undid; + And where the infection slid, + A dazzling memory revive; + Refresh the faded tints, + Recut the aged prints, + And write my old adventures with the pen + Which on the first day drew, + Upon the tablets blue, + The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEROPS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What care I, so they stand the same,— + Things of the heavenly mind,— + How long the power to give them name + Tarries yet behind? + + Thus far to-day your favors reach, + O fair, appeasing presences! + Ye taught my lips a single speech, + And a thousand silences. + + Space grants beyond his fated road + No inch to the god of day; + And copious language still bestowed + One word, no more, to say. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HOUSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is no architect + Can build as the Muse can; + She is skilful to select + Materials for her plan; + + Slow and warily to choose + Rafters of immortal pine, + Or cedar incorruptible, + Worthy her design, + + She threads dark Alpine forests + Or valleys by the sea, + In many lands, with painful steps, + Ere she can find a tree. + + She ransacks mines and ledges + And quarries every rock, + To hew the famous adamant + For each eternal block— + + She lays her beams in music, + In music every one, + To the cadence of the whirling world + Which dances round the sun— + + That so they shall not be displaced + By lapses or by wars, + But for the love of happy souls + Outlive the newest stars. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SAADI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Trees in groves, + Kine in droves, + In ocean sport the scaly herds, + Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, + To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, + Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, + Men consort in camp and town, + But the poet dwells alone. + + God, who gave to him the lyre, + Of all mortals the desire, + For all breathing men's behoof, + Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;' + Annexed a warning, poets say, + To the bright premium,— + Ever, when twain together play, + Shall the harp be dumb. + + Many may come, + But one shall sing; + Two touch the string, + The harp is dumb. + Though there come a million, + Wise Saadi dwells alone. + + Yet Saadi loved the race of men,— + No churl, immured in cave or den; + In bower and hall + He wants them all, + Nor can dispense + With Persia for his audience; + They must give ear, + Grow red with joy and white with fear; + But he has no companion; + Come ten, or come a million, + Good Saadi dwells alone. + + Be thou ware where Saadi dwells; + Wisdom of the gods is he,— + Entertain it reverently. + Gladly round that golden lamp + Sylvan deities encamp, + And simple maids and noble youth + Are welcome to the man of truth. + Most welcome they who need him most, + They feed the spring which they exhaust; + For greater need + Draws better deed: + But, critic, spare thy vanity, + Nor show thy pompous parts, + To vex with odious subtlety + The cheerer of men's hearts. + + Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say + Endless dirges to decay, + Never in the blaze of light + Lose the shudder of midnight; + Pale at overflowing noon + Hear wolves barking at the moon; + In the bower of dalliance sweet + Hear the far Avenger's feet: + And shake before those awful Powers, + Who in their pride forgive not ours. + Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach: + 'Bard, when thee would Allah teach, + And lift thee to his holy mount, + He sends thee from his bitter fount + Wormwood,—saying, "Go thy ways; + Drink not the Malaga of praise, + But do the deed thy fellows hate, + And compromise thy peaceful state; + Smite the white breasts which thee fed. + Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head + Of them thou shouldst have comforted; + For out of woe and out of crime + Draws the heart a lore sublime."' + And yet it seemeth not to me + That the high gods love tragedy; + For Saadi sat in the sun, + And thanks was his contrition; + For haircloth and for bloody whips, + Had active hands and smiling lips; + And yet his runes he rightly read, + And to his folk his message sped. + Sunshine in his heart transferred + Lighted each transparent word, + And well could honoring Persia learn + What Saadi wished to say; + For Saadi's nightly stars did burn + Brighter than Jami's day. + + Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot: + 'O gentle Saadi, listen not, + Tempted by thy praise of wit, + Or by thirst and appetite + For the talents not thine own, + To sons of contradiction. + Never, son of eastern morning, + Follow falsehood, follow scorning. + Denounce who will, who will deny, + And pile the hills to scale the sky; + Let theist, atheist, pantheist, + Define and wrangle how they list, + Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,— + But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer, + Unknowing war, unknowing crime, + Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme; + Heed not what the brawlers say, + Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + + 'Let the great world bustle on + With war and trade, with camp and town; + A thousand men shall dig and eat; + At forge and furnace thousands sweat; + And thousands sail the purple sea, + And give or take the stroke of war, + Or crowd the market and bazaar; + Oft shall war end, and peace return, + And cities rise where cities burn, + Ere one man my hill shall climb, + Who can turn the golden rhyme. + Let them manage how they may, + Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + Seek the living among the dead,— + Man in man is imprisonèd; + Barefooted Dervish is not poor, + If fate unlock his bosom's door, + So that what his eye hath seen + His tongue can paint as bright, as keen; + And what his tender heart hath felt + With equal fire thy heart shalt melt. + For, whom the Muses smile upon, + And touch with soft persuasion, + His words like a storm-wind can bring + Terror and beauty on their wing; + In his every syllable + Lurketh Nature veritable; + And though he speak in midnight dark,— + In heaven no star, on earth no spark,— + Yet before the listener's eye + Swims the world in ecstasy, + The forest waves, the morning breaks, + The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes, + Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be, + And life pulsates in rock or tree. + Saadi, so far thy words shall reach: + Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!' + + And thus to Saadi said the Muse: + 'Eat thou the bread which men refuse; + Flee from the goods which from thee flee; + Seek nothing,—Fortune seeketh thee. + Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep + The midway of the eternal deep. + Wish not to fill the isles with eyes + To fetch thee birds of paradise: + On thine orchard's edge belong + All the brags of plume and song; + Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass + For proverbs in the market-place: + Through mountains bored by regal art, + Toil whistles as he drives his cart. + Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind, + A poet or a friend to find: + Behold, he watches at the door! + Behold his shadow on the floor! + Open innumerable doors + The heaven where unveiled Allah pours + The flood of truth, the flood of good, + The Seraph's and the Cherub's food. + Those doors are men: the Pariah hind + Admits thee to the perfect Mind. + Seek not beyond thy cottage wall + Redeemers that can yield thee all: + While thou sittest at thy door + On the desert's yellow floor, + Listening to the gray-haired crones, + Foolish gossips, ancient drones, + Saadi, see! they rise in stature + To the height of mighty Nature, + And the secret stands revealed + Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,— + That blessed gods in servile masks + Plied for thee thy household tasks.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOLIDAYS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From fall to spring, the russet acorn, + Fruit beloved of maid and boy, + Lent itself beneath the forest, + To be the children's toy. + + Pluck it now! In vain,—thou canst not; + Its root has pierced yon shady mound; + Toy no longer—it has duties; + It is anchored in the ground. + + Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, + Playfellow of young and old, + Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, + More dear to one than mines of gold. + + Whither went the lovely hoyden? + Disappeared in blessed wife; + Servant to a wooden cradle, + Living in a baby's life. + + Still thou playest;—short vacation + Fate grants each to stand aside; + Now must thou be man and artist,— + 'T is the turning of the tide. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XENOPHANES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave + One scent to hyson and to wall-flower, + One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls, + One aspect to the desert and the lake. + It was her stern necessity: all things + Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower, + Song, picture, form, space, thought and character + Deceive us, seeming to be many things, + And are but one. Beheld far off, they part + As God and devil; bring them to the mind, + They dull its edge with their monotony. + To know one element, explore another, + And in the second reappears the first. + The specious panorama of a year + But multiplies the image of a day,— + A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame; + And universal Nature, through her vast + And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, + Repeats one note. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DAY'S RATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I was born, + From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, + Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice, + Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw + From my great arteries,—nor less, nor more.' + All substances the cunning chemist Time + Melts down into that liquor of my life,— + Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust. + And whether I am angry or content, + Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt, + All he distils into sidereal wine + And brims my little cup; heedless, alas! + Of all he sheds how little it will hold, + How much runs over on the desert sands. + If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray, + And I uplift myself into its heaven, + The needs of the first sight absorb my blood, + And all the following hours of the day + Drag a ridiculous age. + To-day, when friends approach, and every hour + Brings book, or starbright scroll of genius, + The little cup will hold not a bead more, + And all the costly liquor runs to waste; + Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond drop + So to be husbanded for poorer days. + Why need I volumes, if one word suffice? + Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught + After the master's sketch fills and o'erfills + My apprehension? Why seek Italy, + Who cannot circumnavigate the sea + Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn + The nearest matters for a thousand days? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BLIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give me truths; + For I am weary of the surfaces, + And die of inanition. If I knew + Only the herbs and simples of the wood, + Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, + Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, + Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew, + And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods + Draw untold juices from the common earth, + Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell + Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply + By sweet affinities to human flesh, + Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,— + O, that were much, and I could be a part + Of the round day, related to the sun + And planted world, and full executor + Of their imperfect functions. + But these young scholars, who invade our hills, + Bold as the engineer who fells the wood, + And travelling often in the cut he makes, + Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, + And all their botany is Latin names. + The old men studied magic in the flowers, + And human fortunes in astronomy, + And an omnipotence in chemistry, + Preferring things to names, for these were men, + Were unitarians of the united world, + And, wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell, + They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes + Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, + And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, + And strangers to the plant and to the mine. + The injured elements say, 'Not in us;' + And night and day, ocean and continent, + Fire, plant and mineral say, 'Not in us;' + And haughtily return us stare for stare. + For we invade them impiously for gain; + We devastate them unreligiously, + And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. + Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us + Only what to our griping toil is due; + But the sweet affluence of love and song, + The rich results of the divine consents + Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover, + The nectar and ambrosia, are withheld; + And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves + And pirates of the universe, shut out + Daily to a more thin and outward rind, + Turn pale and starve. Therefore, to our sick eyes, + The stunted trees look sick, the summer short, + Clouds shade the sun, which will not tan our hay, + And nothing thrives to reach its natural term; + And life, shorn of its venerable length, + Even at its greatest space is a defeat, + And dies in anger that it was a dupe; + And, in its highest noon and wantonness, + Is early frugal, like a beggar's child; + Even in the hot pursuit of the best aims + And prizes of ambition, checks its hand, + Like Alpine cataracts frozen as they leaped, + Chilled with a miserly comparison + Of the toy's purchase with the length of life. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MUSKETAQUID + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Because I was content with these poor fields, + Low, open meads, slender and sluggish streams, + And found a home in haunts which others scorned, + The partial wood-gods overpaid my love, + And granted me the freedom of their state, + And in their secret senate have prevailed + With the dear, dangerous lords that rule our life, + Made moon and planets parties to their bond, + And through my rock-like, solitary wont + Shot million rays of thought and tenderness. + For me, in showers, in sweeping showers, the Spring + Visits the valley;—break away the clouds,— + I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air, + And loiter willing by yon loitering stream. + Sparrows far off, and nearer, April's bird, + Blue-coated,—flying before from tree to tree, + Courageous sing a delicate overture + To lead the tardy concert of the year. + Onward and nearer rides the sun of May; + And wide around, the marriage of the plants + Is sweetly solemnized. Then flows amain + The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag, + Hollow and lake, hillside and pine arcade, + Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff + Has thousand faces in a thousand hours. + + Beneath low hills, in the broad interval + Through which at will our Indian rivulet + Winds mindful still of sannup and of squaw, + Whose pipe and arrow oft the plough unburies, + Here in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, + Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell. + Traveller, to thee, perchance, a tedious road, + Or, it may be, a picture; to these men, + The landscape is an armory of powers, + Which, one by one, they know to draw and use. + They harness beast, bird, insect, to their work; + They prove the virtues of each bed of rock, + And, like the chemist 'mid his loaded jars, + Draw from each stratum its adapted use + To drug their crops or weapon their arts withal. + They turn the frost upon their chemic heap, + They set the wind to winnow pulse and grain, + They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime, + And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow, + Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods + O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year, + They fight the elements with elements + (That one would say, meadow and forest walked, + Transmuted in these men to rule their like), + And by the order in the field disclose + The order regnant in the yeoman's brain. + + What these strong masters wrote at large in miles, + I followed in small copy in my acre; + For there's no rood has not a star above it; + The cordial quality of pear or plum + Ascends as gladly in a single tree + As in broad orchards resonant with bees; + And every atom poises for itself, + And for the whole. The gentle deities + Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds, + The innumerable tenements of beauty. + The miracle of generative force, + Far-reaching concords of astronomy + Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds; + Better, the linked purpose of the whole, + And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty + In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave. + The polite found me impolite; the great + Would mortify me, but in vain; for still + I am a willow of the wilderness, + Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts + My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk, + A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush, + A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine, + Salve my worst wounds. + For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear: + 'Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie? + Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass + Into the winter night's extinguished mood? + Canst thou shine now, then darkle, + And being latent, feel thyself no less? + As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye, + The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure, + Yet envies none, none are unenviable.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DIRGE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CONCORD, 1838 +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I reached the middle of the mount + Up which the incarnate soul must climb, + And paused for them, and looked around, + With me who walked through space and time. + + Five rosy boys with morning light + Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, + Fronted the sun with hope as bright, + And greeted God with childhood's psalms. + + Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, + What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn? + + In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts; + I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts. + + The winding Concord gleamed below, + Pouring as wide a flood + As when my brothers, long ago, + Came with me to the wood. + + But they are gone,—the holy ones + Who trod with me this lovely vale; + The strong, star-bright companions + Are silent, low and pale. + + My good, my noble, in their prime, + Who made this world the feast it was + Who learned with me the lore of time, + Who loved this dwelling-place! + + They took this valley for their toy, + They played with it in every mood; + A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,— + They treated Nature as they would. + + They colored the horizon round; + Stars flamed and faded as they bade, + All echoes hearkened for their sound,— + They made the woodlands glad or mad. + + I touch this flower of silken leaf, + Which once our childhood knew; + Its soft leaves wound me with a grief + Whose balsam never grew. + + Hearken to yon pine-warbler + Singing aloft in the tree! + Hearest thou, O traveller, + What he singeth to me? + + Not unless God made sharp thine ear + With sorrow such as mine, + Out of that delicate lay could'st thou + Its heavy tale divine. + + 'Go, lonely man,' it saith; + 'They loved thee from their birth; + Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,— + There are no such hearts on earth. + + 'Ye drew one mother's milk, + One chamber held ye all; + A very tender history + Did in your childhood fall. + + 'You cannot unlock your heart, + The key is gone with them; + The silent organ loudest chants + The master's requiem.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THRENODY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The South-wind brings + Life, sunshine and desire, + And on every mount and meadow + Breathes aromatic fire; + But over the dead he has no power, + The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; + And, looking over the hills, I mourn + The darling who shall not return. + + I see my empty house, + I see my trees repair their boughs; + And he, the wondrous child, + Whose silver warble wild + Outvalued every pulsing sound + Within the air's cerulean round,— + The hyacinthine boy, for whom + Morn well might break and April bloom, + The gracious boy, who did adorn + The world whereinto he was born, + And by his countenance repay + The favor of the loving Day,— + Has disappeared from the Day's eye; + Far and wide she cannot find him; + My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him. + Returned this day, the South-wind searches, + And finds young pines and budding birches; + But finds not the budding man; + Nature, who lost, cannot remake him; + Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him; + Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain. + + And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, + O, whither tend thy feet? + I had the right, few days ago, + Thy steps to watch, thy place to know: + How have I forfeited the right? + Hast thou forgot me in a new delight? + I hearken for thy household cheer, + O eloquent child! + Whose voice, an equal messenger, + Conveyed thy meaning mild. + What though the pains and joys + Whereof it spoke were toys + Fitting his age and ken, + Yet fairest dames and bearded men, + Who heard the sweet request, + So gentle, wise and grave, + Bended with joy to his behest + And let the world's affairs go by, + A while to share his cordial game, + Or mend his wicker wagon-frame, + Still plotting how their hungry fear + That winsome voice again might hear; + For his lips could well pronounce + Words that were persuasions. + + Gentlest guardians marked serene + His early hope, his liberal mien; + Took counsel from his guiding eyes + To make this wisdom earthly wise. + Ah, vainly do these eyes recall + The school-march, each day's festival, + When every morn my bosom glowed + To watch the convoy on the road; + The babe in willow wagon closed, + With rolling eyes and face composed; + With children forward and behind, + Like Cupids studiously inclined; + And he the chieftain paced beside, + The centre of the troop allied, + With sunny face of sweet repose, + To guard the babe from fancied foes. + The little captain innocent + Took the eye with him as he went; + Each village senior paused to scan + And speak the lovely caravan. + From the window I look out + To mark thy beautiful parade, + Stately marching in cap and coat + To some tune by fairies played;— + A music heard by thee alone + To works as noble led thee on. + + Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, + Up and down their glances strain. + The painted sled stands where it stood; + The kennel by the corded wood; + His gathered sticks to stanch the wall + Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; + The ominous hole he dug in the sand, + And childhood's castles built or planned; + His daily haunts I well discern,— + The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,— + And every inch of garden ground + Paced by the blessed feet around, + From the roadside to the brook + Whereinto he loved to look. + Step the meek fowls where erst they ranged; + The wintry garden lies unchanged; + The brook into the stream runs on; + But the deep-eyed boy is gone. + + On that shaded day, + Dark with more clouds than tempests are, + When thou didst yield thy innocent breath + In birdlike heavings unto death, + Night came, and Nature had not thee; + I said, 'We are mates in misery.' + The morrow dawned with needless glow; + Each snowbird chirped, each fowl must crow; + Each tramper started; but the feet + Of the most beautiful and sweet + Of human youth had left the hill + And garden,—they were bound and still. + There's not a sparrow or a wren, + There's not a blade of autumn grain, + Which the four seasons do not tend + And tides of life and increase lend; + And every chick of every bird, + And weed and rock-moss is preferred. + O ostrich-like forgetfulness! + O loss of larger in the less! + Was there no star that could be sent, + No watcher in the firmament, + No angel from the countless host + That loiters round the crystal coast, + Could stoop to heal that only child, + Nature's sweet marvel undefiled, + And keep the blossom of the earth, + Which all her harvests were not worth? + Not mine,—I never called thee mine, + But Nature's heir,—if I repine, + And seeing rashly torn and moved + Not what I made, but what I loved, + Grow early old with grief that thou + Must to the wastes of Nature go,— + 'T is because a general hope + Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope. + For flattering planets seemed to say + This child should ills of ages stay, + By wondrous tongue, and guided pen, + Bring the flown Muses back to men. + Perchance not he but Nature ailed, + The world and not the infant failed. + It was not ripe yet to sustain + A genius of so fine a strain, + Who gazed upon the sun and moon + As if he came unto his own, + And, pregnant with his grander thought, + Brought the old order into doubt. + His beauty once their beauty tried; + They could not feed him, and he died, + And wandered backward as in scorn, + To wait an aeon to be born. + Ill day which made this beauty waste, + Plight broken, this high face defaced! + Some went and came about the dead; + And some in books of solace read; + Some to their friends the tidings say; + Some went to write, some went to pray; + One tarried here, there hurried one; + But their heart abode with none. + Covetous death bereaved us all, + To aggrandize one funeral. + The eager fate which carried thee + Took the largest part of me: + For this losing is true dying; + This is lordly man's down-lying, + This his slow but sure reclining, + Star by star his world resigning. + + O child of paradise, + Boy who made dear his father's home, + In whose deep eyes + Men read the welfare of the times to come, + I am too much bereft. + The world dishonored thou hast left. + O truth's and nature's costly lie! + O trusted broken prophecy! + O richest fortune sourly crossed! + Born for the future, to the future lost! + + The deep Heart answered, 'Weepest thou? + Worthier cause for passion wild + If I had not taken the child. + And deemest thou as those who pore, + With aged eyes, short way before,— + Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast + Of matter, and thy darling lost? + Taught he not thee—the man of eld, + Whose eyes within his eyes beheld + Heaven's numerous hierarchy span + The mystic gulf from God to man? + To be alone wilt thou begin + When worlds of lovers hem thee in? + To-morrow, when the masks shall fall + That dizen Nature's carnival, + The pure shall see by their own will, + Which overflowing Love shall fill, + 'T is not within the force of fate + The fate-conjoined to separate. + But thou, my votary, weepest thou? + I gave thee sight—where is it now? + I taught thy heart beyond the reach + Of ritual, bible, or of speech; + Wrote in thy mind's transparent table, + As far as the incommunicable; + Taught thee each private sign to raise + Lit by the supersolar blaze. + Past utterance, and past belief, + And past the blasphemy of grief, + The mysteries of Nature's heart; + And though no Muse can these impart, + Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, + And all is clear from east to west. + + 'I came to thee as to a friend; + Dearest, to thee I did not send + Tutors, but a joyful eye, + Innocence that matched the sky, + Lovely locks, a form of wonder, + Laughter rich as woodland thunder, + That thou might'st entertain apart + The richest flowering of all art: + And, as the great all-loving Day + Through smallest chambers takes its way, + That thou might'st break thy daily bread + With prophet, savior and head; + That thou might'st cherish for thine own + The riches of sweet Mary's Son, + Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon. + And thoughtest thou such guest + Would in thy hall take up his rest? + Would rushing life forget her laws, + Fate's glowing revolution pause? + High omens ask diviner guess; + Not to be conned to tediousness + And know my higher gifts unbind + The zone that girds the incarnate mind. + When the scanty shores are full + With Thought's perilous, whirling pool; + When frail Nature can no more, + Then the Spirit strikes the hour: + My servant Death, with solving rite, + Pours finite into infinite. + Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow, + Whose streams through Nature circling go? + Nail the wild star to its track + On the half-climbed zodiac? + Light is light which radiates, + Blood is blood which circulates, + Life is life which generates, + And many-seeming life is one,— + Wilt thou transfix and make it none? + Its onward force too starkly pent + In figure, bone and lineament? + Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, + Talker! the unreplying Fate? + Nor see the genius of the whole + Ascendant in the private soul, + Beckon it when to go and come, + Self-announced its hour of doom? + Fair the soul's recess and shrine, + Magic-built to last a season; + Masterpiece of love benign, + Fairer that expansive reason + Whose omen 'tis, and sign. + Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know + What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? + Verdict which accumulates + From lengthening scroll of human fates, + Voice of earth to earth returned, + Prayers of saints that inly burned,— + Saying, <i>What is excellent,</i> + <i>As God lives, is permanent;</i> + <i>Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;</i> + <i>Heart's love will meet thee again.</i> + Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye + Up to his style, and manners of the sky. + Not of adamant and gold + Built he heaven stark and cold; + No, but a nest of bending reeds, + Flowering grass and scented weeds; + Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, + Or bow above the tempest bent; + Built of tears and sacred flames, + And virtue reaching to its aims; + Built of furtherance and pursuing, + Not of spent deeds, but of doing. + Silent rushes the swift Lord + Through ruined systems still restored, + Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, + Plants with worlds the wilderness; + Waters with tears of ancient sorrow + Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. + House and tenant go to ground, + Lost in God, in Godhead found.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCORD HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE + MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837 + + By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, + Here once the embattled farmers stood + And fired the shot heard round the world. + + The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; + And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + + On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; + That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + + Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, + Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and thee. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II — MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAY-DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, + With sudden passion languishing, + Teaching Barren moors to smile, + Painting pictures mile on mile, + Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, + Whence a smokeless incense breathes. + The air is full of whistlings bland; + What was that I heard + Out of the hazy land? + Harp of the wind, or song of bird, + Or vagrant booming of the air, + Voice of a meteor lost in day? + Such tidings of the starry sphere + Can this elastic air convey. + Or haply 'twas the cannonade + Of the pent and darkened lake, + Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade, + Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break, + Afflicted moan, and latest hold + Even into May the iceberg cold. + Was it a squirrel's pettish bark, + Or clarionet of jay? or hark + Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, + Steering north with raucous cry + Through tracts and provinces of sky, + Every night alighting down + In new landscapes of romance, + Where darkling feed the clamorous clans + By lonely lakes to men unknown. + Come the tumult whence it will, + Voice of sport, or rush of wings, + It is a sound, it is a token + That the marble sleep is broken, + And a change has passed on things. + + When late I walked, in earlier days, + All was stiff and stark; + Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, + In the sky no spark; + Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, + Struggling through the drifted roads; + The whited desert knew me not, + Snow-ridges masked each darling spot; + The summer dells, by genius haunted, + One arctic moon had disenchanted. + All the sweet secrets therein hid + By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. + Eldest mason, Frost, had piled + Swift cathedrals in the wild; + The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts + In the star-lit minster aisled. + I found no joy: the icy wind + Might rule the forest to his mind. + Who would freeze on frozen lakes? + Back to books and sheltered home, + And wood-fire flickering on the walls, + To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games, + Without the baffled North-wind calls. + But soft! a sultry morning breaks; + The ground-pines wash their rusty green, + The maple-tops their crimson tint, + On the soft path each track is seen, + The girl's foot leaves its neater print. + The pebble loosened from the frost + Asks of the urchin to be tost. + In flint and marble beats a heart, + The kind Earth takes her children's part, + The green lane is the school-boy's friend, + Low leaves his quarrel apprehend, + The fresh ground loves his top and ball, + The air rings jocund to his call, + The brimming brook invites a leap, + He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. + The youth sees omens where he goes, + And speaks all languages the rose, + The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice + The far halloo of human voice; + The perfumed berry on the spray + Smacks of faint memories far away. + A subtle chain of countless rings + The next into the farthest brings, + And, striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form. + + The caged linnet in the Spring + Hearkens for the choral glee, + When his fellows on the wing + Migrate from the Southern Sea; + When trellised grapes their flowers unmask, + And the new-born tendrils twine, + The old wine darkling in the cask + Feels the bloom on the living vine, + And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: + And so, perchance, in Adam's race, + Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace + Survived the Flight and swam the Flood, + And wakes the wish in youngest blood + To tread the forfeit Paradise, + And feed once more the exile's eyes; + And ever when the happy child + In May beholds the blooming wild, + And hears in heaven the bluebird sing, + 'Onward,' he cries, 'your baskets bring,— + In the next field is air more mild, + And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier spring.' + + Not for a regiment's parade, + Nor evil laws or rulers made, + Blue Walden rolls its cannonade, + But for a lofty sign + Which the Zodiac threw, + That the bondage-days are told. + And waters free as winds shall flow. + Lo! how all the tribes combine + To rout the flying foe. + See, every patriot oak-leaf throws + His elfin length upon the snows, + Not idle, since the leaf all day + Draws to the spot the solar ray, + Ere sunset quarrying inches down, + And halfway to the mosses brown; + While the grass beneath the rime + Has hints of the propitious time, + And upward pries and perforates + Through the cold slab a thousand gates, + Till green lances peering through + Bend happy in the welkin blue. + + As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, + So Spring will not her time forerun, + Mix polar night with tropic glow, + Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, + Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, + But she has the temperance + Of the gods, whereof she is one,— + Masks her treasury of heat + Under east winds crossed with sleet. + Plants and birds and humble creatures + Well accept her rule austere; + Titan-born, to hardy natures + Cold is genial and dear. + As Southern wrath to Northern right + Is but straw to anthracite; + As in the day of sacrifice, + When heroes piled the pyre, + The dismal Massachusetts ice + Burned more than others' fire, + So Spring guards with surface cold + The garnered heat of ages old. + Hers to sow the seed of bread, + That man and all the kinds be fed; + And, when the sunlight fills the hours, + Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers. + + Beneath the calm, within the light, + A hid unruly appetite + Of swifter life, a surer hope, + Strains every sense to larger scope, + Impatient to anticipate + The halting steps of aged Fate. + Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl: + When Nature falters, fain would zeal + Grasp the felloes of her wheel, + And grasping give the orbs another whirl. + Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball! + And sun this frozen side. + Bring hither back the robin's call, + Bring back the tulip's pride. + + Why chidest thou the tardy Spring? + The hardy bunting does not chide; + The blackbirds make the maples ring + With social cheer and jubilee; + The redwing flutes his <i>o-ka-lee</i>, + The robins know the melting snow; + The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed, + Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves, + Secure the osier yet will hide + Her callow brood in mantling leaves,— + And thou, by science all undone, + Why only must thy reason fail + To see the southing of the sun? + + The world rolls round,—mistrust it not,— + Befalls again what once befell; + All things return, both sphere and mote, + And I shall hear my bluebird's note, + And dream the dream of Auburn dell. + + April cold with dropping rain + Willows and lilacs brings again, + The whistle of returning birds, + And trumpet-lowing of the herds. + The scarlet maple-keys betray + What potent blood hath modest May, + What fiery force the earth renews, + The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; + What joy in rosy waves outpoured + Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. + + Hither rolls the storm of heat; + I feel its finer billows beat + Like a sea which me infolds; + Heat with viewless fingers moulds, + Swells, and mellows, and matures, + Paints, and flavors, and allures, + Bird and brier inly warms, + Still enriches and transforms, + Gives the reed and lily length, + Adds to oak and oxen strength, + Transforming what it doth infold, + Life out of death, new out of old, + Painting fawns' and leopards' fells, + Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells, + Fires gardens with a joyful blaze + Of tulips, in the morning's rays. + The dead log touched bursts into leaf, + The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf. + What god is this imperial Heat, + Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat? + Doth it bear hidden in its heart + Water-line patterns of all art? + Is it Daedalus? is it Love? + Or walks in mask almighty Jove, + And drops from Power's redundant horn + All seeds of beauty to be born? + + Where shall we keep the holiday, + And duly greet the entering May? + Too strait and low our cottage doors, + And all unmeet our carpet floors; + Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, + Suffice to hold the festival. + Up and away! where haughty woods + Front the liberated floods: + We will climb the broad-backed hills, + Hear the uproar of their joy; + We will mark the leaps and gleams + Of the new-delivered streams, + And the murmuring rivers of sap + Mount in the pipes of the trees, + Giddy with day, to the topmost spire, + Which for a spike of tender green + Bartered its powdery cap; + And the colors of joy in the bird, + And the love in its carol heard, + Frog and lizard in holiday coats, + And turtle brave in his golden spots; + While cheerful cries of crag and plain + Reply to the thunder of river and main. + + As poured the flood of the ancient sea + Spilling over mountain chains, + Bending forests as bends the sedge, + Faster flowing o'er the plains,— + A world-wide wave with a foaming edge + That rims the running silver sheet,— + So pours the deluge of the heat + Broad northward o'er the land, + Painting artless paradises, + Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, + Fanning secret fires which glow + In columbine and clover-blow, + Climbing the northern zones, + Where a thousand pallid towns + Lie like cockles by the main, + Or tented armies on a plain. + The million-handed sculptor moulds + Quaintest bud and blossom folds, + The million-handed painter pours + Opal hues and purple dye; + Azaleas flush the island floors, + And the tints of heaven reply. + + Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring + To-day shall all her dowry bring, + The love of kind, the joy, the grace, + Hymen of element and race, + Knowing well to celebrate + With song and hue and star and state, + With tender light and youthful cheer, + The spousals of the new-born year. + + Spring is strong and virtuous, + Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, + Quickening underneath the mould + Grains beyond the price of gold. + So deep and large her bounties are, + That one broad, long midsummer day + Shall to the planet overpay + The ravage of a year of war. + + Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, + And send the nectar round; + The feet that slid so long on sleet + Are glad to feel the ground. + Fill and saturate each kind + With good according to its mind, + Fill each kind and saturate + With good agreeing with its fate, + And soft perfection of its plan— + Willow and violet, maiden and man. + + The bitter-sweet, the haunting air + Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; + It preys on all, all prey on it. + Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, + Stings the strong with enterprise, + Makes travellers long for Indian skies, + And where it comes this courier fleet + Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, + As if to-morrow should redeem + The vanished rose of evening's dream. + By houses lies a fresher green, + On men and maids a ruddier mien, + As if Time brought a new relay + Of shining virgins every May, + And Summer came to ripen maids + To a beauty that not fades. + + I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth, + Stepping daily onward north + To greet staid ancient cavaliers + Filing single in stately train. + And who, and who are the travellers? + They were Night and Day, and Day and Night, + Pilgrims wight with step forthright. + I saw the Days deformed and low, + Short and bent by cold and snow; + The merry Spring threw wreaths on them, + Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell; + Many a flower and many a gem, + They were refreshed by the smell, + They shook the snow from hats and shoon, + They put their April raiment on; + And those eternal forms, + Unhurt by a thousand storms, + Shot up to the height of the sky again, + And danced as merrily as young men. + I saw them mask their awful glance + Sidewise meek in gossamer lids; + And to speak my thought if none forbids + It was as if the eternal gods, + Tired of their starry periods, + Hid their majesty in cloth + Woven of tulips and painted moth. + On carpets green the maskers march + Below May's well-appointed arch, + Each star, each god; each grace amain, + Every joy and virtue speed, + Marching duly in her train, + And fainting Nature at her need + Is made whole again. + + 'Twas the vintage-day of field and wood, + When magic wine for bards is brewed; + Every tree and stem and chink + Gushed with syrup to the brink. + The air stole into the streets of towns, + Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns, + And betrayed the fund of joy + To the high-school and medalled boy: + On from hall to chamber ran, + From youth to maid, from boy to man, + To babes, and to old eyes as well. + 'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds, + Airy turrets purple-piled, + Which once my infancy beguiled, + Beguile me with the wonted spell. + I know ye skilful to convoy + The total freight of hope and joy + Into rude and homely nooks, + Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books, + On farmer's byre, on pasture rude, + And stony pathway to the wood. + I care not if the pomps you show + Be what they soothfast appear, + Or if yon realms in sunset glow + Be bubbles of the atmosphere. + And if it be to you allowed + To fool me with a shining cloud, + So only new griefs are consoled + By new delights, as old by old, + Frankly I will be your guest, + Count your change and cheer the best. + The world hath overmuch of pain,— + If Nature give me joy again, + Of such deceit I'll not complain.' + + Ah! well I mind the calendar, + Faithful through a thousand years, + Of the painted race of flowers, + Exact to days, exact to hours, + Counted on the spacious dial + Yon broidered zodiac girds. + I know the trusty almanac + Of the punctual coming-back, + On their due days, of the birds. + I marked them yestermorn, + A flock of finches darting + Beneath the crystal arch, + Piping, as they flew, a march,— + Belike the one they used in parting + Last year from yon oak or larch; + Dusky sparrows in a crowd, + Diving, darting northward free, + Suddenly betook them all, + Every one to his hole in the wall, + Or to his niche in the apple-tree. + I greet with joy the choral trains + Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. + Best gems of Nature's cabinet, + With dews of tropic morning wet, + Beloved of children, bards and Spring, + O birds, your perfect virtues bring, + Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, + Your manners for the heart's delight, + Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, + Here weave your chamber weather-proof, + Forgive our harms, and condescend + To man, as to a lubber friend, + And, generous, teach his awkward race + Courage and probity and grace! + + Poets praise that hidden wine + Hid in milk we drew + At the barrier of Time, + When our life was new. + We had eaten fairy fruit, + We were quick from head to foot, + All the forms we looked on shone + As with diamond dews thereon. + What cared we for costly joys, + The Museum's far-fetched toys? + Gleam of sunshine on the wall + Poured a deeper cheer than all + The revels of the Carnival. + We a pine-grove did prefer + To a marble theatre, + Could with gods on mallows dine, + Nor cared for spices or for wine. + Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned. + Arch on arch, the grimmest land; + Whittle of a woodland bird + Made the pulses dance, + Note of horn in valleys heard + Filled the region with romance. + + None can tell how sweet, + How virtuous, the morning air; + Every accent vibrates well; + Not alone the wood-bird's call, + Or shouting boys that chase their ball, + Pass the height of minstrel skill, + But the ploughman's thoughtless cry, + Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat, + And the joiner's hammer-beat, + Softened are above their will, + Take tones from groves they wandered through + Or flutes which passing angels blew. + All grating discords melt, + No dissonant note is dealt, + And though thy voice be shrill + Like rasping file on steel, + Such is the temper of the air, + Echo waits with art and care, + And will the faults of song repair. + + So by remote Superior Lake, + And by resounding Mackinac, + When northern storms the forest shake, + And billows on the long beach break, + The artful Air will separate + Note by note all sounds that grate, + Smothering in her ample breast + All but godlike words, + Reporting to the happy ear + Only purified accords. + Strangely wrought from barking waves, + Soft music daunts the Indian braves,— + Convent-chanting which the child + Hears pealing from the panther's cave + And the impenetrable wild. + + Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze: + So on thy broad mystic van + Lie the opal-colored days, + And waft the miracle to man. + Soothsayer of the eldest gods, + Repairer of what harms betide, + Revealer of the inmost powers + Prometheus proffered, Jove denied; + Disclosing treasures more than true, + Or in what far to-morrow due; + Speaking by the tongues of flowers, + By the ten-tongued laurel speaking, + Singing by the oriole songs, + Heart of bird the man's heart seeking; + Whispering hints of treasure hid + Under Morn's unlifted lid, + Islands looming just beyond + The dim horizon's utmost bound;— + Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid, + Or taunt us with our hope decayed? + Or who like thee persuade, + Making the splendor of the air, + The morn and sparkling dew, a snare? + Or who resent + Thy genius, wiles and blandishment? + + There is no orator prevails + To beckon or persuade + Like thee the youth or maid: + Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales, + Thy blooms, thy kinds, + Thy echoes in the wilderness, + Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress, + Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds. + + For thou, O Spring! canst renovate + All that high God did first create. + Be still his arm and architect, + Rebuild the ruin, mend defect; + Chemist to vamp old worlds with new, + Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue, + New tint the plumage of the birds, + And slough decay from grazing herds, + Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain, + Cleanse the torrent at the fountain, + Purge alpine air by towns defiled, + Bring to fair mother fairer child, + Not less renew the heart and brain, + Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain, + Make the aged eye sun-clear, + To parting soul bring grandeur near. + Under gentle types, my Spring + Masks the might of Nature's king, + An energy that searches thorough + From Chaos to the dawning morrow; + Into all our human plight, + The soul's pilgrimage and flight; + In city or in solitude, + Step by step, lifts bad to good, + Without halting, without rest, + Lifting Better up to Best; + Planting seeds of knowledge pure, + Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ADIRONDACS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A JOURNAL + + DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858 + + Wise and polite,—and if I drew + Their several portraits, you would own + Chaucer had no such worthy crew, + Nor Boccace in Decameron. + + We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends, + Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks + Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach + The Adirondac lakes. At Martin's Beach + We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide,— + Ten men, ten guides, our company all told. + + Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac, + With skies of benediction, to Round Lake, + Where all the sacred mountains drew around us, + Taháwus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead, + And other Titans without muse or name. + Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on, + Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills. + We made our distance wider, boat from boat, + As each would hear the oracle alone. + By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid + Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets, + Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel-flower, + Through scented banks of lilies white and gold, + Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day, + On through the Upper Saranac, and up + Père Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass + Winding through grassy shallows in and out, + Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge, + To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons. + + Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed, + Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge + Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore. + A pause and council: then, where near the head + Due east a bay makes inward to the land + Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank, + And in the twilight of the forest noon + Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard. + We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts, + Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof, + Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire. + + The wood was sovran with centennial trees,— + Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir, + Linden and spruce. In strict society + Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine, + Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby, + Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth, + The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower. + + 'Welcome!' the wood-god murmured through the leaves,— + 'Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.' + Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs, + Which o'erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire. + Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks, + Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor. + + Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft + In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed, + Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux, + And greet unanimous the joyful change. + So fast will Nature acclimate her sons, + Though late returning to her pristine ways. + Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold; + And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned, + Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds. + Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air + That circled freshly in their forest dress + Made them to boys again. Happier that they + Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind, + At the first mounting of the giant stairs. + No placard on these rocks warned to the polls, + No door-bell heralded a visitor, + No courier waits, no letter came or went, + Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold; + The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop, + The falling rain will spoil no holiday. + We were made freemen of the forest laws, + All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends, + Essaying nothing she cannot perform. + + In Adirondac lakes + At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded: + Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make + His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain, + He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn: + A paddle in the right hand, or an oar, + And in the left, a gun, his needful arms. + By turns we praised the stature of our guides, + Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill + To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp, + To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs + Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down: + Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount, + And wit to trap or take him in his lair. + Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent, + In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides; + Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired + Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve. + + Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen! + No city airs or arts pass current here. + Your rank is all reversed; let men or cloth + Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls: + <i>They</i> are the doctors of the wilderness, + And we the low-prized laymen. + In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test + Which few can put on with impunity. + What make you, master, fumbling at the oar? + Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here. + The sallow knows the basket-maker's thumb; + The oar, the guide's. Dare you accept the tasks + He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes, + Tell the sun's time, determine the true north, + Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods + To thread by night the nearest way to camp? + + Ask you, how went the hours? + All day we swept the lake, searched every cove, + North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay, + Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, + Or whipping its rough surface for a trout; + Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon; + Challenging Echo by our guns and cries; + Or listening to the laughter of the loon; + Or, in the evening twilight's latest red, + Beholding the procession of the pines; + Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, + In the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter + Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds + Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist. + Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods + Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck + Who stands astonished at the meteor light, + Then turns to bound away,—is it too late? + + Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark, + Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five; + Sometimes their wits at sally and retort, + With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; + Or parties scaled the near acclivities + Competing seekers of a rumored lake, + Whose unauthenticated waves we named + Lake Probability,—our carbuncle, + Long sought, not found. + + Two Doctors in the camp + Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout's brain, + Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew, + Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth; + Insatiate skill in water or in air + Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss; + The while, one leaden got of alcohol + Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds. + Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants, + Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus, + Rosy polygonum, lake-margin's pride, + Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss, + Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls. + Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed, + The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker + Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp. + As water poured through hollows of the hills + To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets, + So Nature shed all beauty lavishly + From her redundant horn. + + Lords of this realm, + Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day + Rounded by hours where each outdid the last + In miracles of pomp, we must be proud, + As if associates of the sylvan gods. + We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac, + So pure the Alpine element we breathed, + So light, so lofty pictures came and went. + We trode on air, contemned the distant town, + Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned + That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge + And how we should come hither with our sons, + Hereafter,—willing they, and more adroit. + + Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery,— + The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito + Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands: + But, on the second day, we heed them not, + Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries, + Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names. + For who defends our leafy tabernacle + From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd,— + Who but the midge, mosquito and the fly, + Which past endurance sting the tender cit, + But which we learn to scatter with a smudge, + Or baffle by a veil, or slight by scorn? + + Our foaming ale we drank from hunters' pans, + Ale, and a sup of wine. Our steward gave + Venison and trout, potatoes, beans, wheat-bread; + All ate like abbots, and, if any missed + Their wonted convenance, cheerly hid the loss + With hunters' appetite and peals of mirth. + And Stillman, our guides' guide, and Commodore, + Crusoe, Crusader, Pius Aeneas, said aloud, + "Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating + Food indigestible":—then murmured some, + Others applauded him who spoke the truth. + + Nor doubt but visitings of graver thought + Checked in these souls the turbulent heyday + 'Mid all the hints and glories of the home. + For who can tell what sudden privacies + Were sought and found, amid the hue and cry + Of scholars furloughed from their tasks and let + Into this Oreads' fended Paradise, + As chapels in the city's thoroughfares, + Whither gaunt Labor slips to wipe his brow + And meditate a moment on Heaven's rest. + Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke + To each apart, lifting her lovely shows + To spiritual lessons pointed home, + And as through dreams in watches of the night, + So through all creatures in their form and ways + Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant, + Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense + Inviting to new knowledge, one with old. + Hark to that petulant chirp! what ails the warbler? + Mark his capricious ways to draw the eye. + Now soar again. What wilt thou, restless bird, + Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light, + Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky? + + And presently the sky is changed; O world! + What pictures and what harmonies are thine! + The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, + So like the soul of me, what if 't were me? + A melancholy better than all mirth. + Comes the sweet sadness at the retrospect, + Or at the foresight of obscurer years? + Like yon slow-sailing cloudy promontory + Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty + Superior to all its gaudy skirts. + And, that no day of life may lack romance, + The spiritual stars rise nightly, shedding down + A private beam into each several heart. + Daily the bending skies solicit man, + The seasons chariot him from this exile, + The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing chair, + The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, + Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights + Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home. + + With a vermilion pencil mark the day + When of our little fleet three cruising skiffs + Entering Big Tupper, bound for the foaming Falls + Of loud Bog River, suddenly confront + Two of our mates returning with swift oars. + One held a printed journal waving high + Caught from a late-arriving traveller, + Big with great news, and shouted the report + For which the world had waited, now firm fact, + Of the wire-cable laid beneath the sea, + And landed on our coast, and pulsating + With ductile fire. Loud, exulting cries + From boat to boat, and to the echoes round, + Greet the glad miracle. Thought's new-found path + Shall supplement henceforth all trodden ways, + Match God's equator with a zone of art, + And lift man's public action to a height + Worthy the enormous cloud of witnesses, + When linkèd hemispheres attest his deed. + We have few moments in the longest life + Of such delight and wonder as there grew,— + Nor yet unsuited to that solitude: + A burst of joy, as if we told the fact + To ears intelligent; as if gray rock + And cedar grove and cliff and lake should know + This feat of wit, this triumph of mankind; + As if we men were talking in a vein + Of sympathy so large, that ours was theirs, + And a prime end of the most subtle element + Were fairly reached at last. Wake, echoing caves! + Bend nearer, faint day-moon! Yon thundertops, + Let them hear well! 'tis theirs as much as ours. + + A spasm throbbing through the pedestals + Of Alp and Andes, isle and continent, + Urging astonished Chaos with a thrill + To be a brain, or serve the brain of man. + The lightning has run masterless too long; + He must to school and learn his verb and noun + And teach his nimbleness to earn his wage, + Spelling with guided tongue man's messages + Shot through the weltering pit of the salt sea. + And yet I marked, even in the manly joy + Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat + (Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent; + Or was it for mankind a generous shame, + As of a luck not quite legitimate, + Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? + Was it a college pique of town and gown, + As one within whose memory it burned + That not academicians, but some lout, + Found ten years since the Californian gold? + And now, again, a hungry company + Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, + Perversely borrowing from the shop the tools + Of science, not from the philosophers, + Had won the brightest laurel of all time. + 'Twas always thus, and will be; hand and head + Are ever rivals: but, though this be swift, + The other slow,—this the Prometheus, + And that the Jove,—yet, howsoever hid, + It was from Jove the other stole his fire, + And, without Jove, the good had never been. + It is not Iroquois or cannibals, + But ever the free race with front sublime, + And these instructed by their wisest too, + Who do the feat, and lift humanity. + Let not him mourn who best entitled was, + Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, + Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, + And water it with wine, nor watch askance + Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: + Enough that mankind eat and are refreshed. + + We flee away from cities, but we bring + The best of cities with us, these learned classifiers, + Men knowing what they seek, armed eyes of experts. + We praise the guide, we praise the forest life: + But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore + Of books and arts and trained experiment, + Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? + O no, not we! Witness the shout that shook + Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail + The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge + Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears + From a log cabin stream Beethoven's notes + On the piano, played with master's hand. + 'Well done!' he cries; 'the bear is kept at bay, + The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; + All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, + This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, + This wild plantation will suffice to chase. + Now speed the gay celerities of art, + What in the desert was impossible + Within four walls is possible again,— + Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill, + Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife + Of keen competing youths, joined or alone + To outdo each other and extort applause. + Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. + Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again, + On for a thousand years of genius more.' + + The holidays were fruitful, but must end; + One August evening had a cooler breath; + Into each mind intruding duties crept; + Under the cinders burned the fires of home; + Nay, letters found us in our paradise: + So in the gladness of the new event + We struck our camp and left the happy hills. + The fortunate star that rose on us sank not; + The prodigal sunshine rested on the land, + The rivers gambolled onward to the sea, + And Nature, the inscrutable and mute, + Permitted on her infinite repose + Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, + As if one riddle of the Sphinx were guessed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BRAHMA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If the red slayer think he slays, + Or if the slain think he is slain, + They know not well the subtle ways + I keep, and pass, and turn again. + + Far or forgot to me is near; + Shadow and sunlight are the same; + The vanished gods to me appear; + And one to me are shame and fame. + + They reckon ill who leave me out; + When me they fly, I am the wings; + I am the doubter and the doubt, + And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. + + The strong gods pine for my abode, + And pine in vain the sacred Seven; + But thou, meek lover of the good! + Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NEMESIS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Already blushes on thy cheek + The bosom thought which thou must speak; + The bird, how far it haply roam + By cloud or isle, is flying home; + The maiden fears, and fearing runs + Into the charmed snare she shuns; + And every man, in love or pride, + Of his fate is never wide. + + Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth? + Or prayers the stony Parcae soothe, + Or coax the thunder from its mark? + Or tapers light the chaos dark? + In spite of Virtue and the Muse, + Nemesis will have her dues, + And all our struggles and our toils + Tighter wind the giant coils. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Deep in the man sits fast his fate + To mould his fortunes, mean or great: + Unknown to Cromwell as to me + Was Cromwell's measure or degree; + Unknown to him as to his horse, + If he than his groom be better or worse. + He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, + With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, + Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, + Broad England harbored not his peer: + Obeying time, the last to own + The Genius from its cloudy throne. + For the prevision is allied + Unto the thing so signified; + Or say, the foresight that awaits + Is the same Genius that creates. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FREEDOM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Once I wished I might rehearse + Freedom's paean in my verse, + That the slave who caught the strain + Should throb until he snapped his chain, + But the Spirit said, 'Not so; + Speak it not, or speak it low; + Name not lightly to be said, + Gift too precious to be prayed, + Passion not to be expressed + But by heaving of the breast: + Yet,—wouldst thou the mountain find + Where this deity is shrined, + Who gives to seas and sunset skies + Their unspent beauty of surprise, + And, when it lists him, waken can + Brute or savage into man; + Or, if in thy heart he shine, + Blends the starry fates with thine, + Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, + And makes thy thoughts archangels be; + Freedom's secret wilt thou know?— + Counsel not with flesh and blood; + Loiter not for cloak or food; + Right thou feelest, rush to do.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 + + O tenderly the haughty day + Fills his blue urn with fire; + One morn is in the mighty heaven, + And one in our desire. + + The cannon booms from town to town, + Our pulses beat not less, + The joy-bells chime their tidings down, + Which children's voices bless. + + For He that flung the broad blue fold + O'er-mantling land and sea, + One third part of the sky unrolled + For the banner of the free. + + The men are ripe of Saxon kind + To build an equal state,— + To take the statute from the mind + And make of duty fate. + + United States! the ages plead,— + Present and Past in under-song,— + Go put your creed into your deed, + Nor speak with double tongue. + + For sea and land don't understand, + Nor skies without a frown + See rights for which the one hand fights + By the other cloven down. + + Be just at home; then write your scroll + Of honor o'er the sea, + And bid the broad Atlantic roll, + A ferry of the free. + + And henceforth there shall be no chain, + Save underneath the sea + The wires shall murmur through the main + Sweet songs of liberty. + + The conscious stars accord above, + The waters wild below, + And under, through the cable wove, + Her fiery errands go. + + For He that worketh high and wise. + Nor pauses in his plan, + Will take the sun out of the skies + Ere freedom out of man. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOSTON HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863 + + The word of the Lord by night + To the watching Pilgrims came, + As they sat by the seaside, + And filled their hearts with flame. + + God said, I am tired of kings, + I suffer them no more; + Up to my ear the morning brings + The outrage of the poor. + + Think ye I made this ball + A field of havoc and war, + Where tyrants great and tyrants small + Might harry the weak and poor? + + My angel,—his name is Freedom,— + Choose him to be your king; + He shall cut pathways east and west + And fend you with his wing. + + Lo! I uncover the land + Which I hid of old time in the West, + As the sculptor uncovers the statue + When he has wrought his best; + + I show Columbia, of the rocks + Which dip their foot in the seas + And soar to the air-borne flocks + Of clouds and the boreal fleece. + + I will divide my goods; + Call in the wretch and slave: + None shall rule but the humble. + And none but Toil shall have. + + I will have never a noble, + No lineage counted great; + Fishers and choppers and ploughmen + Shall constitute a state. + + Go, cut down trees in the forest + And trim the straightest boughs; + Cut down trees in the forest + And build me a wooden house. + + Call the people together, + The young men and the sires, + The digger in the harvest-field, + Hireling and him that hires; + + And here in a pine state-house + They shall choose men to rule + In every needful faculty, + In church and state and school. + + Lo, now! if these poor men + Can govern the land and sea + And make just laws below the sun, + As planets faithful be. + + And ye shall succor men; + 'Tis nobleness to serve; + Help them who cannot help again: + Beware from right to swerve. + + I break your bonds and masterships, + And I unchain the slave: + Free be his heart and hand henceforth + As wind and wandering wave. + + I cause from every creature + His proper good to flow: + As much as he is and doeth, + So much he shall bestow. + + But, laying hands on another + To coin his labor and sweat, + He goes in pawn to his victim + For eternal years in debt. + + To-day unbind the captive, + So only are ye unbound; + Lift up a people from the dust, + Trump of their rescue, sound! + + Pay ransom to the owner + And fill the bag to the brim. + Who is the owner? The slave is owner, + And ever was. Pay him. + + O North! give him beauty for rags, + And honor, O South! for his shame; + Nevada! coin thy golden crags + With Freedom's image and name. + + Up! and the dusky race + That sat in darkness long,— + Be swift their feet as antelopes. + And as behemoth strong. + + Come, East and West and North, + By races, as snow-flakes, + And carry my purpose forth, + Which neither halts nor shakes. + + My will fulfilled shall be, + For, in daylight or in dark, + My thunderbolt has eyes to see + His way home to the mark. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUNTARIES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Low and mournful be the strain, + Haughty thought be far from me; + Tones of penitence and pain, + Meanings of the tropic sea; + Low and tender in the cell + Where a captive sits in chains. + Crooning ditties treasured well + From his Afric's torrid plains. + Sole estate his sire bequeathed,— + Hapless sire to hapless son,— + Was the wailing song he breathed, + And his chain when life was done. + + What his fault, or what his crime? + Or what ill planet crossed his prime? + Heart too soft and will too weak + To front the fate that crouches near,— + Dove beneath the vulture's beak;— + Will song dissuade the thirsty spear? + Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, + Displaced, disfurnished here, + His wistful toil to do his best + Chilled by a ribald jeer. + Great men in the Senate sate, + Sage and hero, side by side, + Building for their sons the State, + Which they shall rule with pride. + They forbore to break the chain + Which bound the dusky tribe, + Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, + Lured by 'Union' as the bribe. + Destiny sat by, and said, + 'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, + Hide in false peace your coward head, + I bring round the harvest day.' + + II + + Freedom all winged expands, + Nor perches in a narrow place; + Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; + She loves a poor and virtuous race. + Clinging to a colder zone + Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, + The snowflake is her banner's star, + Her stripes the boreal streamers are. + Long she loved the Northman well; + Now the iron age is done, + She will not refuse to dwell + With the offspring of the Sun; + Foundling of the desert far, + Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, + He roves unhurt the burning ways + In climates of the summer star. + He has avenues to God + Hid from men of Northern brain, + Far beholding, without cloud, + What these with slowest steps attain. + If once the generous chief arrive + To lead him willing to be led, + For freedom he will strike and strive, + And drain his heart till he be dead. + + III + + In an age of fops and toys, + Wanting wisdom, void of right, + Who shall nerve heroic boys + To hazard all in Freedom's fight,— + Break sharply off their jolly games, + Forsake their comrades gay + And quit proud homes and youthful dames + For famine, toil and fray? + Yet on the nimble air benign + Speed nimbler messages, + That waft the breath of grace divine + To hearts in sloth and ease. + So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When Duty whispers low, <i>Thou must</i>, + The youth replies, <i>I can</i>. + + IV + + O, well for the fortunate soul + Which Music's wings infold, + Stealing away the memory + Of sorrows new and old! + Yet happier he whose inward sight, + Stayed on his subtile thought, + Shuts his sense on toys of time, + To vacant bosoms brought. + But best befriended of the God + He who, in evil times, + Warned by an inward voice, + Heeds not the darkness and the dread, + Biding by his rule and choice, + Feeling only the fiery thread + Leading over heroic ground, + Walled with mortal terror round, + To the aim which him allures, + And the sweet heaven his deed secures. + Peril around, all else appalling, + Cannon in front and leaden rain + Him duty through the clarion calling + To the van called not in vain. + + Stainless soldier on the walls, + Knowing this,—and knows no more,— + Whoever fights, whoever falls, + Justice conquers evermore, + Justice after as before,— + And he who battles on her side, + God, though he were ten times slain, + Crowns him victor glorified, + Victor over death and pain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + V + + Blooms the laurel which belongs + To the valiant chief who fights; + I see the wreath, I hear the songs + Lauding the Eternal Rights, + Victors over daily wrongs: + Awful victors, they misguide + Whom they will destroy, + And their coming triumph hide + In our downfall, or our joy: + They reach no term, they never sleep, + In equal strength through space abide; + Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, + The strong they slay, the swift outstride: + Fate's grass grows rank in valley clods, + And rankly on the castled steep,— + Speak it firmly, these are gods, + All are ghosts beside. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE AND THOUGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two well-assorted travellers use + The highway, Eros and the Muse. + From the twins is nothing hidden, + To the pair is nought forbidden; + Hand in hand the comrades go + Every nook of Nature through: + Each for other they were born, + Each can other best adorn; + They know one only mortal grief + Past all balsam or relief; + When, by false companions crossed, + The pilgrims have each other lost. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Roving, roving, as it seems, + Una lights my clouded dreams; + Still for journeys she is dressed; + We wander far by east and west. + + In the homestead, homely thought, + At my work I ramble not; + If from home chance draw me wide, + Half-seen Una sits beside. + + In my house and garden-plot, + Though beloved, I miss her not; + But one I seek in foreign places, + One face explore in foreign faces. + + At home a deeper thought may light + The inward sky with chrysolite, + And I greet from far the ray, + Aurora of a dearer day. + + But if upon the seas I sail, + Or trundle on the glowing rail, + I am but a thought of hers, + Loveliest of travellers. + + So the gentle poet's name + To foreign parts is blown by fame, + Seek him in his native town, + He is hidden and unknown. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOSTON + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS + + The rocky nook with hilltops three + Looked eastward from the farms, + And twice each day the flowing sea + Took Boston in its arms; + The men of yore were stout and poor, + And sailed for bread to every shore. + + And where they went on trade intent + They did what freemen can, + Their dauntless ways did all men praise, + The merchant was a man. + The world was made for honest trade,— + To plant and eat be none afraid. + + The waves that rocked them on the deep + To them their secret told; + Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, + 'Like us be free and bold!' + The honest waves refused to slaves + The empire of the ocean caves. + + Old Europe groans with palaces, + Has lords enough and more;— + We plant and build by foaming seas + A city of the poor;— + For day by day could Boston Bay + Their honest labor overpay. + + We grant no dukedoms to the few, + We hold like rights, and shall;— + Equal on Sunday in the pew, + On Monday in the mall, + For what avail the plough or sail, + Or land or life, if freedom fail? + + The noble craftsman we promote, + Disown the knave and fool; + Each honest man shall have his vote, + Each child shall have his school. + A union then of honest men, + Or union never more again. + + The wild rose and the barberry thorn + Hung out their summer pride, + Where now on heated pavements worn + The feet of millions stride. + + Fair rose the planted hills behind + The good town on the bay, + And where the western hills declined + The prairie stretched away. + + What care though rival cities soar + Along the stormy coast, + Penn's town, New York and Baltimore, + If Boston knew the most! + + They laughed to know the world so wide; + The mountains said, 'Good-day! + We greet you well, you Saxon men, + Up with your towns and stay!' + The world was made for honest trade,— + To plant and eat be none afraid. + + 'For you,' they said, 'no barriers be, + For you no sluggard rest; + Each street leads downward to the sea, + Or landward to the west.' + + O happy town beside the sea, + Whose roads lead everywhere to all; + Than thine no deeper moat can be, + No stouter fence, no steeper wall! + + Bad news from George on the English throne; + 'You are thriving well,' said he; + 'Now by these presents be it known + You shall pay us a tax on tea; + 'Tis very small,—no load at all,— + Honor enough that we send the call. + + 'Not so,' said Boston, 'good my lord, + We pay your governors here + Abundant for their bed and board, + Six thousand pounds a year. + (Your Highness knows our homely word) + Millions for self-government, + But for tribute never a cent.' + + The cargo came! and who could blame + If <i>Indians</i> seized the tea, + And, chest by chest, let down the same, + Into the laughing sea? + For what avail the plough or sail, + Or land or life, if freedom fail? + + The townsmen braved the English king, + Found friendship in the French, + And honor joined the patriot ring + Low on their wooden bench. + + O bounteous seas that never fail! + O day remembered yet! + O happy port that spied the sail + Which wafted Lafayette! + Pole-star of light in Europe's night, + That never faltered from the right. + + Kings shook with fear, old empires crave + The secret force to find + Which fired the little State to save + The rights of all mankind. + + But right is might through all the world; + Province to province faithful clung, + Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled, + Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung. + + The sea returning day by day + Restores the world-wide mart; + So let each dweller on the Bay + Fold Boston in his heart, + Till these echoes be choked with snows, + Or over the town blue ocean flows. + + Let the blood of her hundred thousands + Throb in each manly vein; + And the wits of all her wisest, + Make sunshine in her brain. + For you can teach the lightning speech, + And round the globe your voices reach. + + And each shall care for other, + And each to each shall bend, + To the poor a noble brother, + To the good an equal friend. + + A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers! + GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every day brings a ship, + Every ship brings a word; + Well for those who have no fear. + Looking seaward, well assured + That the word the vessel brings + Is the word they wish to hear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RUBIES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They brought me rubies from the mine, + And held them to the sun; + I said, they are drops of frozen wine + From Eden's vats that run. + + I looked again,—I thought them hearts + Of friends to friends unknown; + Tides that should warm each neighboring life + Are locked in sparkling stone. + + But fire to thaw that ruddy snow, + To break enchanted ice, + And give love's scarlet tides to flow,— + When shall that sun arise? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN'S SONG + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Of Merlin wise I learned a song,— + Sing it low or sing it loud, + It is mightier than the strong, + And punishes the proud. + I sing it to the surging crowd,— + Good men it will calm and cheer, + Bad men it will chain and cage— + In the heart of the music peals a strain + Which only angels hear; + Whether it waken joy or rage + Hushed myriads hark in vain, + Yet they who hear it shed their age, + And take their youth again. + + II + + Hear what British Merlin sung, + Of keenest eye and truest tongue. + Say not, the chiefs who first arrive + Usurp the seats for which all strive; + The forefathers this land who found + Failed to plant the vantage-ground; + Ever from one who comes to-morrow + Men wait their good and truth to borrow. + But wilt thou measure all thy road, + See thou lift the lightest load. + Who has little, to him who has less, can spare, + And thou, Cyndyllan's son! beware + Ponderous gold and stuffs to bear, + To falter ere thou thy task fulfil,— + Only the light-armed climb the hill. + The richest of all lords is Use, + And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse. + Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, + Drink the wild air's salubrity: + When the star Canope shines in May, + Shepherds are thankful and nations gay. + The music that can deepest reach, + And cure all ill, is cordial speech: + Mask thy wisdom with delight, + Toy with the bow, yet hit the white. + Of all wit's uses, the main one + Is to live well with who has none. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Musa loquitur.) + + I hung my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults may find. + All were winnowed through and through, + Five lines lasted sound and true; + Five were smelted in a pot + Than the South more fierce and hot; + These the siroc could not melt, + Fire their fiercer flaming felt, + And the meaning was more white + Than July's meridian light. + Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, + Nor time unmake what poets know. + Have you eyes to find the five + Which five hundred did survive? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SOLUTION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am the Muse who sung alway + By Jove, at dawn of the first day. + Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wrought + To fire the stagnant earth with thought: + On spawning slime my song prevails, + Wolves shed their fangs, and dragons scales; + Flushed in the sky the sweet May-morn, + Earth smiled with flowers, and man was born. + Then Asia yeaned her shepherd race, + And Nile substructs her granite base,— + Tented Tartary, columned Nile,— + And, under vines, on rocky isle, + Or on wind-blown sea-marge bleak, + Forward stepped the perfect Greek: + That wit and joy might find a tongue, + And earth grow civil, HOMER sung. + + Flown to Italy from Greece, + I brooded long and held my peace, + For I am wont to sing uncalled, + And in days of evil plight + Unlock doors of new delight; + And sometimes mankind I appalled + With a bitter horoscope, + With spasms of terror for balm of hope. + Then by better thought I lead + Bards to speak what nations need; + So I folded me in fears, + And DANTE searched the triple spheres, + Moulding Nature at his will, + So shaped, so colored, swift or still, + And, sculptor-like, his large design + Etched on Alp and Apennine. + + Seethed in mists of Penmanmaur, + Taught by Plinlimmon's Druid power, + England's genius filled all measure + Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, + Gave to the mind its emperor, + And life was larger than before: + Nor sequent centuries could hit + Orbit and sum of SHAKSPEARE'S wit. + The men who lived with him became + Poets, for the air was fame. + + Far in the North, where polar night + Holds in check the frolic light, + In trance upborne past mortal goal + The Swede EMANUEL leads the soul. + Through snows above, mines underground, + The inks of Erebus he found; + Rehearsed to men the damned wails + On which the seraph music sails. + In spirit-worlds he trod alone, + But walked the earth unmarked, unknown, + The near bystander caught no sound,— + Yet they who listened far aloof + Heard rendings of the skyey roof, + And felt, beneath, the quaking ground; + And his air-sown, unheeded words, + In the next age, are flaming swords. + + In newer days of war and trade, + Romance forgot, and faith decayed, + When Science armed and guided war, + And clerks the Janus-gates unbar, + When France, where poet never grew, + Halved and dealt the globe anew, + GOETHE, raised o'er joy and strife, + Drew the firm lines of Fate and Life + And brought Olympian wisdom down + To court and mart, to gown and town. + Stooping, his finger wrote in clay + The open secret of to-day. + + So bloom the unfading petals five, + And verses that all verse outlive. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION + OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS + + We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;— + In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod. + + Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, + And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place. + + And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, + And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife. + + From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, + And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again; + + For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, + Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below. + + They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, + And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way. + + On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, + Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Winters know + Easily to shed the snow, + And the untaught Spring is wise + In cowslips and anemonies. + Nature, hating art and pains, + Baulks and baffles plotting brains; + Casualty and Surprise + Are the apples of her eyes; + But she dearly loves the poor, + And, by marvel of her own, + Strikes the loud pretender down. + For Nature listens in the rose + And hearkens in the berry's bell + To help her friends, to plague her foes, + And like wise God she judges well. + Yet doth much her love excel + To the souls that never fell, + To swains that live in happiness + And do well because they please, + Who walk in ways that are unfamed, + And feats achieve before they're named. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She is gamesome and good, + But of mutable mood,— + No dreary repeater now and again, + She will be all things to all men. + She who is old, but nowise feeble, + Pours her power into the people, + Merry and manifold without bar, + Makes and moulds them what they are, + And what they call their city way + Is not their way, but hers, + And what they say they made to-day, + They learned of the oaks and firs. + She spawneth men as mallows fresh, + Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; + She drugs her water and her wheat + With the flavors she finds meet, + And gives them what to drink and eat; + And having thus their bread and growth, + They do her bidding, nothing loath. + What's most theirs is not their own, + But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, + And in their vaunted works of Art + The master-stroke is still her part. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ROMANY GIRL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun goes down, and with him takes + The coarseness of my poor attire; + The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame + Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. + + Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; + You captives of your air-tight halls, + Wear out indoors your sickly days, + But leave us the horizon walls. + + And if I take you, dames, to task, + And say it frankly without guile, + Then you are Gypsies in a mask, + And I the lady all the while. + + If on the heath, below the moon, + I court and play with paler blood, + Me false to mine dare whisper none,— + One sallow horseman knows me good. + + Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, + For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; + My swarthy tint is in the grain, + The rocks and forest know it real. + + The wild air bloweth in our lungs, + The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, + The birds gave us our wily tongues, + The panther in our dances flies. + + You doubt we read the stars on high, + Nathless we read your fortunes true; + The stars may hide in the upper sky, + But without glass we fathom you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DAYS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, + Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, + And marching single in an endless file, + Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. + To each they offer gifts after his will, + Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. + I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, + Forgot my morning wishes, hastily + Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day + Turned and departed silent. I, too late, + Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MY GARDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I could put my woods in song + And tell what's there enjoyed, + All men would to my gardens throng, + And leave the cities void. + + In my plot no tulips blow,— + Snow-loving pines and oaks instead; + And rank the savage maples grow + From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red. + + My garden is a forest ledge + Which older forests bound; + The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, + Then plunge to depths profound. + + Here once the Deluge ploughed, + Laid the terraces, one by one; + Ebbing later whence it flowed, + They bleach and dry in the sun. + + The sowers made haste to depart,— + The wind and the birds which sowed it; + Not for fame, nor by rules of art, + Planted these, and tempests flowed it. + + Waters that wash my garden-side + Play not in Nature's lawful web, + They heed not moon or solar tide,— + Five years elapse from flood to ebb. + + Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, + And every god,—none did refuse; + And be sure at last came Love, + And after Love, the Muse. + + Keen ears can catch a syllable, + As if one spake to another, + In the hemlocks tall, untamable, + And what the whispering grasses smother. + + Aeolian harps in the pine + Ring with the song of the Fates; + Infant Bacchus in the vine,— + Far distant yet his chorus waits. + + Canst thou copy in verse one chime + Of the wood-bell's peal and cry, + Write in a book the morning's prime, + Or match with words that tender sky? + + Wonderful verse of the gods, + Of one import, of varied tone; + They chant the bliss of their abodes + To man imprisoned in his own. + + Ever the words of the gods resound; + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear. + + Wandering voices in the air + And murmurs in the wold + Speak what I cannot declare, + Yet cannot all withhold. + + When the shadow fell on the lake, + The whirlwind in ripples wrote + Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, + And omens above thought. + + But the meanings cleave to the lake, + Cannot be carried in book or urn; + Go thy ways now, come later back, + On waves and hedges still they burn. + + These the fates of men forecast, + Of better men than live to-day; + If who can read them comes at last + He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Day! hast thou two faces, + Making one place two places? + One, by humble farmer seen, + Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, + Useful only, triste and damp, + Serving for a laborer's lamp? + Have the same mists another side, + To be the appanage of pride, + Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, + His park where amber mornings break, + And treacherously bright to show + His planted isle where roses glow? + O Day! and is your mightiness + A sycophant to smug success? + Will the sweet sky and ocean broad + Be fine accomplices to fraud? + O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray: + Back, back to chaos, harlot Day! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TITMOUSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You shall not be overbold + When you deal with arctic cold, + As late I found my lukewarm blood + Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. + How should I fight? my foeman fine + Has million arms to one of mine: + East, west, for aid I looked in vain, + East, west, north, south, are his domain. + Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; + Must borrow his winds who there would come. + Up and away for life! be fleet!— + The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, + Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, + Curdles the blood to the marble bones, + Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, + And hems in life with narrowing fence. + Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,— + The punctual stars will vigil keep,— + Embalmed by purifying cold; + The winds shall sing their dead-march old, + The snow is no ignoble shroud, + The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. + + Softly,—but this way fate was pointing, + 'T was coming fast to such anointing, + When piped a tiny voice hard by, + Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, + <i>Chic-chic-a-dee-de!</i> saucy note + Out of sound heart and merry throat, + As if it said, 'Good day, good sir! + Fine afternoon, old passenger! + Happy to meet you in these places, + Where January brings few faces.' + + This poet, though he live apart, + Moved by his hospitable heart, + Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, + To do the honors of his court, + As fits a feathered lord of land; + Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, + Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, + Prints his small impress on the snow, + Shows feats of his gymnastic play, + Head downward, clinging to the spray. + + Here was this atom in full breath, + Hurling defiance at vast death; + This scrap of valor just for play + Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, + As if to shame my weak behavior; + I greeted loud my little savior, + 'You pet! what dost here? and what for? + In these woods, thy small Labrador, + At this pinch, wee San Salvador! + What fire burns in that little chest + So frolic, stout and self-possest? + Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine; + Ashes and jet all hues outshine. + Why are not diamonds black and gray, + To ape thy dare-devil array? + And I affirm, the spacious North + Exists to draw thy virtue forth. + I think no virtue goes with size; + The reason of all cowardice + Is, that men are overgrown, + And, to be valiant, must come down + To the titmouse dimension.' + + 'T is good will makes intelligence, + And I began to catch the sense + Of my bird's song: 'Live out of doors + In the great woods, on prairie floors. + I dine in the sun; when he sinks in the sea, + I too have a hole in a hollow tree; + And I like less when Summer beats + With stifling beams on these retreats, + Than noontide twilights which snow makes + With tempest of the blinding flakes. + For well the soul, if stout within, + Can arm impregnably the skin; + And polar frost my frame defied, + Made of the air that blows outside.' + + With glad remembrance of my debt, + I homeward turn; farewell, my pet! + When here again thy pilgrim comes, + He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. + Doubt not, so long as earth has bread, + Thou first and foremost shalt be fed; + The Providence that is most large + Takes hearts like thine in special charge, + Helps who for their own need are strong, + And the sky doats on cheerful song. + Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant + O'er all that mass and minster vaunt; + For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, + As 't would accost some frivolous wing, + Crying out of the hazel copse, <i>Phe-be!</i> + And, in winter, <i>Chic-a-dee-dee!</i> + I think old Caesar must have heard + In northern Gaul my dauntless bird, + And, echoed in some frosty wold, + Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. + And I will write our annals new, + And thank thee for a better clew, + I, who dreamed not when I came here + To find the antidote of fear, + Now hear thee say in Roman key, + <i>Paean! Veni, vidi, vici.</i> +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HARP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One musician is sure, + His wisdom will not fail, + He has not tasted wine impure, + Nor bent to passion frail. + Age cannot cloud his memory, + Nor grief untune his voice, + Ranging down the ruled scale + From tone of joy to inward wail, + Tempering the pitch of all + In his windy cave. + He all the fables knows, + And in their causes tells,— + Knows Nature's rarest moods, + Ever on her secret broods. + The Muse of men is coy, + Oft courted will not come; + In palaces and market squares + Entreated, she is dumb; + But my minstrel knows and tells + The counsel of the gods, + Knows of Holy Book the spells, + Knows the law of Night and Day, + And the heart of girl and boy, + The tragic and the gay, + And what is writ on Table Round + Of Arthur and his peers; + What sea and land discoursing say + In sidereal years. + He renders all his lore + In numbers wild as dreams, + Modulating all extremes,— + What the spangled meadow saith + To the children who have faith; + Only to children children sing, + Only to youth will spring be spring. + + Who is the Bard thus magnified? + When did he sing? and where abide? + + Chief of song where poets feast + Is the wind-harp which thou seest + In the casement at my side. + + Aeolian harp, + How strangely wise thy strain! + Gay for youth, gay for youth, + (Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,) + In the hall at summer eve + Fate and Beauty skilled to weave. + From the eager opening strings + Rung loud and bold the song. + Who but loved the wind-harp's note? + How should not the poet doat + On its mystic tongue, + With its primeval memory, + Reporting what old minstrels told + Of Merlin locked the harp within,— + Merlin paying the pain of sin, + Pent in a dungeon made of air,— + And some attain his voice to hear, + Words of pain and cries of fear, + But pillowed all on melody, + As fits the griefs of bards to be. + And what if that all-echoing shell, + Which thus the buried Past can tell, + Should rive the Future, and reveal + What his dread folds would fain conceal? + It shares the secret of the earth, + And of the kinds that owe her birth. + Speaks not of self that mystic tone, + But of the Overgods alone: + It trembles to the cosmic breath,— + As it heareth, so it saith; + Obeying meek the primal Cause, + It is the tongue of mundane laws. + And this, at least, I dare affirm, + Since genius too has bound and term, + There is no bard in all the choir, + Not Homer's self, the poet sire, + Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, + Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure, + Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, + Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, + Scott, the delight of generous boys, + Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,— + Not one of all can put in verse, + Or to this presence could rehearse + The sights and voices ravishing + The boy knew on the hills in spring, + When pacing through the oaks he heard + Sharp queries of the sentry-bird, + The heavy grouse's sudden whir, + The rattle of the kingfisher; + Saw bonfires of the harlot flies + In the lowland, when day dies; + Or marked, benighted and forlorn, + The first far signal-fire of morn. + These syllables that Nature spoke, + And the thoughts that in him woke, + Can adequately utter none + Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. + Therein I hear the Parcae reel + The threads of man at their humming wheel, + The threads of life and power and pain, + So sweet and mournful falls the strain. + And best can teach its Delphian chord + How Nature to the soul is moored, + If once again that silent string, + As erst it wont, would thrill and ring. + + Not long ago at eventide, + It seemed, so listening, at my side + A window rose, and, to say sooth, + I looked forth on the fields of youth: + I saw fair boys bestriding steeds, + I knew their forms in fancy weeds, + Long, long concealed by sundering fates, + Mates of my youth,—yet not my mates, + Stronger and bolder far than I, + With grace, with genius, well attired, + And then as now from far admired, + Followed with love + They knew not of, + With passion cold and shy. + O joy, for what recoveries rare! + Renewed, I breathe Elysian air, + See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,— + Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb! + Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil + Of life resurgent from the soil + Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEASHORE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea + Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? + Am I not always here, thy summer home? + Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? + My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, + My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? + Was ever building like my terraces? + Was ever couch magnificent as mine? + Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn + A little hut suffices like a town. + I make your sculptured architecture vain, + Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, + And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. + Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, + Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs + Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab + Older than all thy race. + + Behold the Sea, + The opaline, the plentiful and strong, + Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, + Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; + Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, + Purger of earth, and medicine of men; + Creating a sweet climate by my breath, + Washing out harms and griefs from memory, + And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, + Giving a hint of that which changes not. + Rich are the sea-gods:—who gives gifts but they? + They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: + They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. + For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, + Wealth to the cunning artist who can work + This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! + A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? + + I with my hammer pounding evermore + The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, + Strewing my bed, and, in another age, + Rebuild a continent of better men. + Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out + The exodus of nations: I disperse + Men to all shores that front the hoary main. + + I too have arts and sorceries; + Illusion dwells forever with the wave. + I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal + With credulous and imaginative man; + For, though he scoop my water in his palm, + A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. + Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, + I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, + To distant men, who must go there, or die. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONG OF NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mine are the night and morning, + The pits of air, the gulf of space, + The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, + The innumerable days. + + I hide in the solar glory, + I am dumb in the pealing song, + I rest on the pitch of the torrent, + In slumber I am strong. + + No numbers have counted my tallies, + No tribes my house can fill, + I sit by the shining Fount of Life + And pour the deluge still; + + And ever by delicate powers + Gathering along the centuries + From race on race the rarest flowers, + My wreath shall nothing miss. + + And many a thousand summers + My gardens ripened well, + And light from meliorating stars + With firmer glory fell. + + I wrote the past in characters + Of rock and fire the scroll, + The building in the coral sea, + The planting of the coal. + + And thefts from satellites and rings + And broken stars I drew, + And out of spent and aged things + I formed the world anew; + + What time the gods kept carnival, + Tricked out in star and flower, + And in cramp elf and saurian forms + They swathed their too much power. + + Time and Thought were my surveyors, + They laid their courses well, + They boiled the sea, and piled the layers + Of granite, marl and shell. + + But he, the man-child glorious,— + Where tarries he the while? + The rainbow shines his harbinger, + The sunset gleams his smile. + + My boreal lights leap upward, + Forthright my planets roll, + And still the man-child is not born, + The summit of the whole. + + Must time and tide forever run? + Will never my winds go sleep in the west? + Will never my wheels which whirl the sun + And satellites have rest? + + Too much of donning and doffing, + Too slow the rainbow fades, + I weary of my robe of snow, + My leaves and my cascades; + + I tire of globes and races, + Too long the game is played; + What without him is summer's pomp, + Or winter's frozen shade? + + I travail in pain for him, + My creatures travail and wait; + His couriers come by squadrons, + He comes not to the gate. + + Twice I have moulded an image, + And thrice outstretched my hand, + Made one of day and one of night + And one of the salt sea-sand. + + One in a Judaean manger, + And one by Avon stream, + One over against the mouths of Nile, + And one in the Academe. + + I moulded kings and saviors, + And bards o'er kings to rule;— + But fell the starry influence short, + The cup was never full. + + Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more, + And mix the bowl again; + Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements, + Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain. + + Let war and trade and creeds and song + Blend, ripen race on race, + The sunburnt world a man shall breed + Of all the zones and countless days. + + No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, + My oldest force is good as new, + And the fresh rose on yonder thorn + Gives back the bending heavens in dew. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO RIVERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, + Repeats the music of the rain; + But sweeter rivers pulsing flit + Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. + + Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: + The stream I love unbounded goes + Through flood and sea and firmament; + Through light, through life, it forward flows. + + I see the inundation sweet, + I hear the spending of the stream + Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, + Through love and thought, through power and dream. + + Musketaquit, a goblin strong, + Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; + They lose their grief who hear his song, + And where he winds is the day of day. + + So forth and brighter fares my stream,— + Who drink it shall not thirst again; + No darkness stains its equal gleam. + And ages drop in it like rain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WALDEINSAMKEIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not count the hours I spend + In wandering by the sea; + The forest is my loyal friend, + Like God it useth me. + + In plains that room for shadows make + Of skirting hills to lie, + Bound in by streams which give and take + Their colors from the sky; + + Or on the mountain-crest sublime, + Or down the oaken glade, + O what have I to do with time? + For this the day was made. + + Cities of mortals woe-begone + Fantastic care derides, + But in the serious landscape lone + Stern benefit abides. + + Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, + And merry is only a mask of sad, + But, sober on a fund of joy, + The woods at heart are glad. + + There the great Planter plants + Of fruitful worlds the grain, + And with a million spells enchants + The souls that walk in pain. + + Still on the seeds of all he made + The rose of beauty burns; + Through times that wear and forms that fade, + Immortal youth returns. + + The black ducks mounting from the lake, + The pigeon in the pines, + The bittern's boom, a desert make + Which no false art refines. + + Down in yon watery nook, + Where bearded mists divide, + The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, + The sires of Nature, hide. + + Aloft, in secret veins of air, + Blows the sweet breath of song, + O, few to scale those uplands dare, + Though they to all belong! + + See thou bring not to field or stone + The fancies found in books; + Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, + To brave the landscape's looks. + + Oblivion here thy wisdom is, + Thy thrift, the sleep of cares; + For a proud idleness like this + Crowns all thy mean affairs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TERMINUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is time to be old, + To take in sail:— + The god of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds, + And said: 'No more! + No farther shoot + Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. + Fancy departs: no more invent; + Contract thy firmament + To compass of a tent. + There's not enough for this and that, + Make thy option which of two; + Economize the failing river, + Not the less revere the Giver, + Leave the many and hold the few. + Timely wise accept the terms, + Soften the fall with wary foot; + A little while + Still plan and smile, + And,—fault of novel germs,— + Mature the unfallen fruit. + Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, + Bad husbands of their fires, + Who, when they gave thee breath, + Failed to bequeath + The needful sinew stark as once, + The Baresark marrow to thy bones, + But left a legacy of ebbing veins, + Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,— + Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, + Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' + + As the bird trims her to the gale, + I trim myself to the storm of time, + I man the rudder, reef the sail, + Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: + 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, + Right onward drive unharmed; + The port, well worth the cruise, is near, + And every wave is charmed.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The yesterday doth never smile, + The day goes drudging through the while, + Yet, in the name of Godhead, I + The morrow front, and can defy; + Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, + Cannot withhold his conquering aid. + Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, + If He should make my web a blot + On life's fair picture of delight, + My heart's content would find it right. + But O, these waves and leaves,— + When happy stoic Nature grieves, + No human speech so beautiful + As their murmurs mine to lull. + On this altar God hath built + I lay my vanity and guilt; + Nor me can Hope or Passion urge + Hearing as now the lofty dirge + Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, + Nature's funeral high and dim,— + Sable pageantry of clouds, + Mourning summer laid in shrouds. + Many a day shall dawn and die, + Many an angel wander by, + And passing, light my sunken turf + Moist perhaps by ocean surf, + Forgotten amid splendid tombs, + Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. + On earth I dream;—I die to be: + Time, shake not thy bald head at me. + I challenge thee to hurry past + Or for my turn to fly too fast. + Think me not numbed or halt with age, + Or cares that earth to earth engage, + Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, + Or mired by climate's gross extremes. + I tire of shams, I rush to be: + I pass with yonder comet free,— + Pass with the comet into space + Which mocks thy aeons to embrace; + Aeons which tardily unfold + Realm beyond realm,—extent untold; + No early morn, no evening late,— + Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, + Whose shining sons, too great for fame, + Never heard thy weary name; + Nor lives the tragic bard to say + How drear the part I held in one, + How lame the other limped away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APRIL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The April winds are magical + And thrill our tuneful frames; + The garden walks are passional + To bachelors and dames. + The hedge is gemmed with diamonds, + The air with Cupids full, + The cobweb clues of Rosamond + Guide lovers to the pool. + Each dimple in the water, + Each leaf that shades the rock + Can cozen, pique and flatter, + Can parley and provoke. + Goodfellow, Puck and goblins, + Know more than any book. + Down with your doleful problems, + And court the sunny brook. + The south-winds are quick-witted, + The schools are sad and slow, + The masters quite omitted + The lore we care to know. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Soft and softlier hold me, friends! + Thanks if your genial care + Unbind and give me to the air. + Keep your lips or finger-tips + For flute or spinet's dancing chips; + I await a tenderer touch, + I ask more or not so much: + Give me to the atmosphere,— + Where is the wind, my brother,—where? + Lift the sash, lay me within, + Lend me your ears, and I begin. + For gentle harp to gentle hearts + The secret of the world imparts; + And not to-day and not to-morrow + Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; + But day by day, to loving ear + Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. + I've come to live with you, sweet friends, + This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. + Many and subtle are my lays, + The latest better than the first, + For I can mend the happiest days + And charm the anguish of the worst. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CUPIDO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The solid, solid universe + Is pervious to Love; + With bandaged eyes he never errs, + Around, below, above. + His blinding light + He flingeth white + On God's and Satan's brood, + And reconciles + By mystic wiles + The evil and the good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PAST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The debt is paid, + The verdict said, + The Furies laid, + The plague is stayed. + All fortunes made; + Turn the key and bolt the door, + Sweet is death forevermore. + Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, + Nor murdering hate, can enter in. + All is now secure and fast; + Not the gods can shake the Past; + Flies-to the adamantine door + Bolted down forevermore. + None can reënter there,— + No thief so politic, + No Satan with a royal trick + Steal in by window, chink, or hole, + To bind or unbind, add what lacked, + Insert a leaf, or forge a name, + New-face or finish what is packed, + Alter or mend eternal Fact. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LAST FAREWELL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, + EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT + OF BOSTON HARBOR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF + PORTO RICO, IN 1832 + + Farewell, ye lofty spires + That cheered the holy light! + Farewell, domestic fires + That broke the gloom of night! + Too soon those spires are lost, + Too fast we leave the bay, + Too soon by ocean tost + From hearth and home away, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell the busy town, + The wealthy and the wise, + Kind smile and honest frown + From bright, familiar eyes. + All these are fading now; + Our brig hastes on her way, + Her unremembering prow + Is leaping o'er the sea, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, my mother fond, + Too kind, too good to me; + Nor pearl nor diamond + Would pay my debt to thee. + But even thy kiss denies + Upon my cheek to stay; + The winged vessel flies, + And billows round her play, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, my brothers true, + My betters, yet my peers; + How desert without you + My few and evil years! + But though aye one in heart, + Together sad or gay, + Rude ocean doth us part; + We separate to-day, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, thou fairest one, + Unplighted yet to me, + Uncertain of thine own + I gave my heart to thee. + That untold early love + I leave untold to-day, + My lips in whisper move + Farewell to ...! + Far away, far away. + + Farewell I breathe again + To dim New England's shore, + My heart shall beat not when + I pant for thee no more. + In yon green palmy isle, + Beneath the tropic ray, + I murmur never while + For thee and thine I pray; + Far away, far away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0100" id="link2H_4_0100"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I mourn upon this battle-field, + But not for those who perished here. + Behold the river-bank + Whither the angry farmers came, + In sloven dress and broken rank, + Nor thought of fame. + Their deed of blood + All mankind praise; + Even the serene Reason says, + It was well done. + The wise and simple have one glance + To greet yon stern head-stone, + Which more of pride than pity gave + To mark the Briton's friendless grave. + Yet it is a stately tomb; + The grand return + Of eve and morn, + The year's fresh bloom, + The silver cloud, + Might grace the dust that is most proud. + + Yet not of these I muse + In this ancestral place, + But of a kindred face + That never joy or hope shall here diffuse. + + Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! + What hast thou to do with these + Haunting this bank's historic trees? + Thou born for noblest life, + For action's field, for victor's car, + Thou living champion of the right? + To these their penalty belonged: + I grudge not these their bed of death, + But thine to thee, who never wronged + The poorest that drew breath. + + All inborn power that could + Consist with homage to the good + Flamed from his martial eye; + He who seemed a soldier born, + He should have the helmet worn, + All friends to fend, all foes defy, + Fronting foes of God and man, + Frowning down the evil-doer, + Battling for the weak and poor. + His from youth the leader's look + Gave the law which others took, + And never poor beseeching glance + Shamed that sculptured countenance. + + There is no record left on earth, + Save in tablets of the heart, + Of the rich inherent worth, + Of the grace that on him shone, + Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit: + He could not frame a word unfit, + An act unworthy to be done; + Honor prompted every glance, + Honor came and sat beside him, + In lowly cot or painful road, + And evermore the cruel god + Cried "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed, + Born for success he seemed, + With grace to win, with heart to hold, + With shining gifts that took all eyes, + With budding power in college-halls, + As pledged in coming days to forge + Weapons to guard the State, or scourge + Tyrants despite their guards or walls. + On his young promise Beauty smiled, + Drew his free homage unbeguiled, + And prosperous Age held out his hand, + And richly his large future planned, + And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,— + All, all was given, and only health denied. + + I see him with superior smile + Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train + In lands remote, in toil and pain, + With angel patience labor on, + With the high port he wore erewhile, + When, foremost of the youthful band, + The prizes in all lists he won; + Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, + And, least of all, the loyal tie + Which holds to home 'neath every sky, + The joy and pride the pilgrim feels + In hearts which round the hearth at home + Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam. + + What generous beliefs console + The brave whom Fate denies the goal! + If others reach it, is content; + To Heaven's high will his will is bent. + Firm on his heart relied, + What lot soe'er betide, + Work of his hand + He nor repents nor grieves, + Pleads for itself the fact, + As unrepenting Nature leaves + Her every act. + + Fell the bolt on the branching oak; + The rainbow of his hope was broke; + No craven cry, no secret tear,— + He told no pang, he knew no fear; + Its peace sublime his aspect kept, + His purpose woke, his features slept; + And yet between the spasms of pain + His genius beamed with joy again. + + O'er thy rich dust the endless smile + Of Nature in thy Spanish isle + Hints never loss or cruel break + And sacrifice for love's dear sake, + Nor mourn the unalterable Days + That Genius goes and Folly stays. + What matters how, or from what ground, + The freed soul its Creator found? + Alike thy memory embalms + That orange-grove, that isle of palms, + And these loved banks, whose oak-bough bold + Root in the blood of heroes old. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0101" id="link2H_4_0101"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III — ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0102" id="link2H_4_0102"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EXPERIENCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The lords of life, the lords of life,— + I saw them pass + In their own guise, + Like and unlike, + Portly and grim,— + Use and Surprise, + Surface and Dream, + Succession swift and spectral Wrong, + Temperament without a tongue, + And the inventor of the game + Omnipresent without name;— + Some to see, some to be guessed, + They marched from east to west: + Little man, least of all, + Among the legs of his guardians tall, + Walked about with puzzled look. + Him by the hand dear Nature took, + Dearest Nature, strong and kind, + Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! + To-morrow they will wear another face, + The founder thou; these are thy race!' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0103" id="link2H_4_0103"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The wings of Time are black and white, + Pied with morning and with night. + Mountain tall and ocean deep + Trembling balance duly keep. + In changing moon and tidal wave + Glows the feud of Want and Have. + Gauge of more and less through space, + Electric star or pencil plays, + The lonely Earth amid the balls + That hurry through the eternal halls, + A makeweight flying to the void, + Supplemental asteroid, + Or compensatory spark, + Shoots across the neutral Dark. + + Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; + Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: + Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, + None from its stock that vine can reave. + Fear not, then, thou child infirm, + There's no god dare wrong a worm; + Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, + And power to him who power exerts. + Hast not thy share? On winged feet, + Lo it rushes thee to meet; + And all that Nature made thy own, + Floating in air or pent in stone, + Will rive the hills and swim the sea, + And, like thy shadow, follow thee. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0104" id="link2H_4_0104"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POLITICS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gold and iron are good + To buy iron and gold; + All earth's fleece and food + For their like are sold. + Boded Merlin wise, + Proved Napoleon great, + Nor kind nor coinage buys + Aught above its rate. + Fear, Craft and Avarice + Cannot rear a State. + Out of dust to build + What is more than dust, + Walls Amphion piled + Phoebus stablish must. + When the Muses nine + With the Virtues meet, + Find to their design + An Atlantic seat, + By green orchard boughs + Fended from the heat, + here the statesman ploughs + Furrow for the wheat,— + When the Church is social worth, + When the state-house is the hearth, + Then the perfect State is come, + The republican at home. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0105" id="link2H_4_0105"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HEROISM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, + Sugar spends to fatten slaves, + Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; + Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, + Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, + Lightning-knotted round his head; + The hero is not fed on sweets, + Daily his own heart he eats; + Chambers of the great are jails, + And head-winds right for royal sails. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0106" id="link2H_4_0106"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHARACTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun set, but set not his hope: + Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: + Fixed on the enormous galaxy, + Deeper and older seemed his eye; + And matched his sufferance sublime + The taciturnity of time. + He spoke, and words more soft than rain + Brought the Age of Gold again: + His action won such reverence sweet + As hid all measure of the feat. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0107" id="link2H_4_0107"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CULTURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Can rules or tutors educate + The semigod whom we await? + He must be musical, + Tremulous, impressional, + Alive to gentle influence + Of landscape and of sky, + And tender to the spirit-touch + Of man's or maiden's eye: + But, to his native centre fast, + Shall into Future fuse the Past, + And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0108" id="link2H_4_0108"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRIENDSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A ruddy drop of manly blood + The surging sea outweighs, + The world uncertain comes and goes; + The lover rooted stays. + I fancied he was fled,— + And, after many a year, + Glowed unexhausted kindliness, + Like daily sunrise there. + My careful heart was free again, + O friend, my bosom said, + Through thee alone the sky is arched, + Through thee the rose is red; + All things through thee take nobler form, + And look beyond the earth, + The mill-round of our fate appears + A sun-path in thy worth. + Me too thy nobleness has taught + To master my despair; + The fountains of my hidden life + Are through thy friendship fair. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0109" id="link2H_4_0109"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SPIRITUAL LAWS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The living Heaven thy prayers respect, + House at once and architect, + Quarrying man's rejected hours, + Builds therewith eternal towers; + Sole and self-commanded works, + Fears not undermining days, + Grows by decays, + And, by the famous might that lurks + In reaction and recoil, + Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; + Forging, through swart arms of Offence, + The silver seat of Innocence. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0110" id="link2H_4_0110"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BEAUTY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Was never form and never face + So sweet to SEYD as only grace + Which did not slumber like a stone, + But hovered gleaming and was gone. + Beauty chased he everywhere, + In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. + He smote the lake to feed his eye + With the beryl beam of the broken wave; + He flung in pebbles well to hear + The moment's music which they gave. + Oft pealed for him a lofty tone + From nodding pole and belting zone. + He heard a voice none else could hear + From centred and from errant sphere. + The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, + Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. + In dens of passion, and pits of woe, + He saw strong Eros struggling through, + To sun the dark and solve the curse, + And beam to the bounds of the universe. + While thus to love he gave his days + In loyal worship, scorning praise, + How spread their lures for him in vain + Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! + He thought it happier to be dead, + To die for Beauty, than live for bread. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0111" id="link2H_4_0111"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MANNERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Grace, Beauty and Caprice + Build this golden portal; + Graceful women, chosen men, + Dazzle every mortal. + Their sweet and lofty countenance + His enchanted food; + He need not go to them, their forms + Beset his solitude. + He looketh seldom in their face, + His eyes explore the ground,— + The green grass is a looking-glass + Whereon their traits are found. + Little and less he says to them, + So dances his heart in his breast; + Their tranquil mien bereaveth him + Of wit, of words, of rest. + Too weak to win, too fond to shun + The tyrants of his doom, + The much deceived Endymion + Slips behind a tomb. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0112" id="link2H_4_0112"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ART + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give to barrows, trays and pans + Grace and glimmer of romance; + Bring the moonlight into noon + Hid in gleaming piles of stone; + On the city's paved street + Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; + Let spouting fountains cool the air, + Singing in the sun-baked square; + Let statue, picture, park and hall, + Ballad, flag and festival, + The past restore, the day adorn, + And make to-morrow a new morn. + So shall the drudge in dusty frock + Spy behind the city clock + Retinues of airy kings, + Skirts of angels, starry wings, + His fathers shining in bright fables, + His children fed at heavenly tables. + 'T is the privilege of Art + Thus to play its cheerful part, + Man on earth to acclimate + And bend the exile to his fate, + And, moulded of one element + With the days and firmament, + Teach him on these as stairs to climb, + And live on even terms with Time; + Whilst upper life the slender rill + Of human sense doth overfill. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0113" id="link2H_4_0113"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNITY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Space is ample, east and west, + But two cannot go abreast, + Cannot travel in it two: + Yonder masterful cuckoo + Crowds every egg out of the nest, + Quick or dead, except its own; + A spell is laid on sod and stone, + Night and Day were tampered with, + Every quality and pith + Surcharged and sultry with a power + That works its will on age and hour. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0114" id="link2H_4_0114"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WORSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is he, who, felled by foes, + Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: + He to captivity was sold, + But him no prison-bars would hold: + Though they sealed him in a rock, + Mountain chains he can unlock: + Thrown to lions for their meat, + The crouching lion kissed his feet; + Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, + But arched o'er him an honoring vault. + This is he men miscall Fate, + Threading dark ways, arriving late, + But ever coming in time to crown + The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. + He is the oldest, and best known, + More near than aught thou call'st thy own, + Yet, greeted in another's eyes, + Disconcerts with glad surprise. + This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, + Floods with blessings unawares. + Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line + Severing rightly his from thine, + Which is human, which divine. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0115" id="link2H_4_0115"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PRUDENCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Theme no poet gladly sung, + Fair to old and foul to young; + Scorn not thou the love of parts, + And the articles of arts. + Grandeur of the perfect sphere + Thanks the atoms that cohere. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0116" id="link2H_4_0116"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + A subtle chain of countless rings + The next unto the farthest brings; + The eye reads omens where it goes, + And speaks all languages the rose; + And, striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form. + + II + + The rounded world is fair to see, + Nine times folded in mystery: + Though baffled seers cannot impart + The secret of its laboring heart, + Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, + And all is clear from east to west. + Spirit that lurks each form within + Beckons to spirit of its kin; + Self-kindled every atom glows + And hints the future which it owes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0117" id="link2H_4_0117"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INFORMING SPIRIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + There is no great and no small + To the Soul that maketh all: + And where it cometh, all things are; + And it cometh everywhere. + + II + + I am owner of the sphere, + Of the seven stars and the solar year, + Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, + Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0118" id="link2H_4_0118"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIRCLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nature centres into balls, + And her proud ephemerals, + Fast to surface and outside, + Scan the profile of the sphere; + Knew they what that signified, + A new genesis were here. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0119" id="link2H_4_0119"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTELLECT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go, speed the stars of Thought + On to their shining goals;— + The sower scatters broad his seed; + The wheat thou strew'st be souls. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0120" id="link2H_4_0120"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIFTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gifts of one who loved me,— + 'T was high time they came; + When he ceased to love me, + Time they stopped for shame. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0121" id="link2H_4_0121"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROMISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In countless upward-striving waves + The moon-drawn tide-wave strives; + In thousand far-transplanted grafts + The parent fruit survives; + So, in the new-born millions, + The perfect Adam lives. + Not less are summer mornings dear + To every child they wake, + And each with novel life his sphere + Fills for his proper sake. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CARITAS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the suburb, in the town, + On the railway, in the square, + Came a beam of goodness down + Doubling daylight everywhere: + Peace now each for malice takes, + Beauty for his sinful weeds, + For the angel Hope aye makes + Him an angel whom she leads. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POWER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His tongue was framed to music, + And his hand was armed with skill; + His face was the mould of beauty, + And his heart the throne of will. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0124" id="link2H_4_0124"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WEALTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who shall tell what did befall, + Far away in time, when once, + Over the lifeless ball, + Hung idle stars and suns? + What god the element obeyed? + Wings of what wind the lichen bore, + Wafting the puny seeds of power, + Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade? + And well the primal pioneer + Knew the strong task to it assigned, + Patient through Heaven's enormous year + To build in matter home for mind. + From air the creeping centuries drew + The matted thicket low and wide, + This must the leaves of ages strew + The granite slab to clothe and hide, + Ere wheat can wave its golden pride. + What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled + (In dizzy aeons dim and mute + The reeling brain can ill compute) + Copper and iron, lead and gold? + What oldest star the fame can save + Of races perishing to pave + The planet with a floor of lime? + Dust is their pyramid and mole: + Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed + Under the tumbling mountain's breast, + In the safe herbal of the coal? + But when the quarried means were piled, + All is waste and worthless, till + Arrives the wise selecting will, + And, out of slime and chaos, Wit + Draws the threads of fair and fit. + Then temples rose, and towns, and marts, + The shop of toil, the hall of arts; + Then flew the sail across the seas + To feed the North from tropic trees; + The storm-wind wove, the torrent span, + Where they were bid, the rivers ran; + New slaves fulfilled the poet's dream, + Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam. + Then docks were built, and crops were stored, + And ingots added to the hoard. + But though light-headed man forget, + Remembering Matter pays her debt: + Still, through her motes and masses, draw + Electric thrills and ties of law, + Which bind the strengths of Nature wild + To the conscience of a child. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0125" id="link2H_4_0125"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ILLUSIONS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Flow, flow the waves hated, + Accursed, adored, + The waves of mutation; + No anchorage is. + Sleep is not, death is not; + Who seem to die live. + House you were born in, + Friends of your spring-time, + Old man and young maid, + Day's toil and its guerdon, + They are all vanishing, + Fleeing to fables, + Cannot be moored. + See the stars through them, + Through treacherous marbles. + Know the stars yonder, + The stars everlasting, + Are fugitive also, + And emulate, vaulted, + The lambent heat lightning + And fire-fly's flight. + + When thou dost return + On the wave's circulation, + Behold the shimmer, + The wild dissipation, + And, out of endeavor + To change and to flow, + The gas become solid, + And phantoms and nothings + Return to be things, + And endless imbroglio + Is law and the world,— + Then first shalt thou know, + That in the wild turmoil, + Horsed on the Proteus, + Thou ridest to power, + And to endurance. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0126" id="link2H_4_0126"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV — QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0127" id="link2H_4_0127"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + QUATRAINS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A.H. + + High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, + Her manners made of bounty well refined; + Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, + Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0128" id="link2H_4_0128"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HUSH! + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every thought is public, + Every nook is wide; + Thy gossips spread each whisper, + And the gods from side to side. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0129" id="link2H_4_0129"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ORATOR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who has no hands + Perforce must use his tongue; + Foxes are so cunning + Because they are not strong. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0130" id="link2H_4_0130"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ARTIST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Quit the hut, frequent the palace, + Reck not what the people say; + For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, + Huntsmen find the easiest way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0131" id="link2H_4_0131"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ever the Poet <i>from</i> the land + Steers his bark and trims his sail; + Right out to sea his courses stand, + New worlds to find in pinnace frail. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To clothe the fiery thought + In simple words succeeds, + For still the craft of genius is + To mask a king in weeds. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0133" id="link2H_4_0133"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOTANIST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go thou to thy learned task, + I stay with the flowers of Spring: + Do thou of the Ages ask + What me the Hours will bring. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0134" id="link2H_4_0134"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GARDENER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, + Expound the Vedas of the violet, + Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, + See the plum redden, and the beurré stoop. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0135" id="link2H_4_0135"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORESTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He took the color of his vest + From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; + For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, + So walks the woodman, unespied. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0136" id="link2H_4_0136"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NORTHMAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The gale that wrecked you on the sand, + It helped my rowers to row; + The storm is my best galley hand + And drives me where I go. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM ALCUIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sea is the road of the bold, + Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, + The pit wherein the streams are rolled + And fountain of the rains. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0138" id="link2H_4_0138"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EXCELSIOR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Over his head were the maple buds, + And over the tree was the moon, + And over the moon were the starry studs + That drop from the angels' shoon. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S.H. + + With beams December planets dart + His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, + July was in his sunny heart, + October in his liberal hand. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0139" id="link2H_4_0139"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BORROWING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM THE FRENCH + + Some of your hurts you have cured, + And the sharpest you still have survived, + But what torments of grief you endured + From evils which never arrived! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0140" id="link2H_4_0140"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, + And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: + But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, + Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0141" id="link2H_4_0141"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her planted eye to-day controls, + Is in the morrow most at home, + And sternly calls to being souls + That curse her when they come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0142" id="link2H_4_0142"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOROSCOPE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ere he was born, the stars of fate + Plotted to make him rich and great: + When from the womb the babe was loosed, + The gate of gifts behind him closed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0143" id="link2H_4_0143"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POWER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cast the bantling on the rocks, + Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, + Wintered with the hawk and fox, + Power and speed be hands and feet. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0144" id="link2H_4_0144"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLIMACTERIC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not wiser for my age, + Nor skilful by my grief; + Life loiters at the book's first page,— + Ah! could we turn the leaf. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0145" id="link2H_4_0145"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HERI, CRAS, HODIE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, + To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: + Future or Past no richer secret folds, + O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0146" id="link2H_4_0146"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMORY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall + Shadows of the thoughts of day, + And thy fortunes, as they fall, + The bias of the will betray. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0147" id="link2H_4_0147"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love on his errand bound to go + Can swim the flood and wade through snow, + Where way is none, 't will creep and wind + And eat through Alps its home to find. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0148" id="link2H_4_0148"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SACRIFICE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though love repine, and reason chafe, + There came a voice without reply,— + ''T is man's perdition to be safe, + When for the truth he ought to die.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0149" id="link2H_4_0149"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PERICLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well and wisely said the Greek, + Be thou faithful, but not fond; + To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,— + The Furies wait beyond. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0150" id="link2H_4_0150"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CASELLA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Test of the poet is knowledge of love, + For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; + Never was poet, of late or of yore, + Who was not tremulous with love-lore. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0151" id="link2H_4_0151"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SHAKSPEARE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I see all human wits + Are measured but a few; + Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, + Lone as the blessed Jew. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0152" id="link2H_4_0152"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HAFIZ + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her passions the shy violet + From Hafiz never hides; + Love-longings of the raptured bird + The bird to him confides. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0153" id="link2H_4_0153"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE IN LEASTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As sings the pine-tree in the wind, + So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; + Her strength and soul has laughing France + Shed in each drop of wine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Greek: ADAKRYN NEMONTAI AIONA] + + 'A New commandment,' said the smiling Muse, + 'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach';— + Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, + And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore + Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0154" id="link2H_4_0154"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSLATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0155" id="link2H_4_0155"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Never did sculptor's dream unfold + A form which marble doth not hold + In its white block; yet it therein shall find + Only the hand secure and bold + Which still obeys the mind. + So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, + The ill I shun, the good I claim; + I alas! not well alive, + Miss the aim whereto I strive. + Not love, nor beauty's pride, + Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, + If, whilst within thy heart abide + Both death and pity, my unequal skill + Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0156" id="link2H_4_0156"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI + + In Farsistan the violet spreads + Its leaves to the rival sky; + I ask how far is the Tigris flood, + And the vine that grows thereby? + + Except the amber morning wind, + Not one salutes me here; + There is no lover in all Bagdat + To offer the exile cheer. + + I know that thou, O morning wind! + O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, + And thou, heart-warming nightingale! + My father's orchard knowest. + + The merchant hath stuffs of price, + And gems from the sea-washed strand, + And princes offer me grace + To stay in the Syrian land; + + But what is gold <i>for</i>, but for gifts? + And dark, without love, is the day; + And all that I see in Bagdat + Is the Tigris to float me away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0157" id="link2H_4_0157"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM HAFIZ + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I said to heaven that glowed above, + O hide yon sun-filled zone, + Hide all the stars you boast; + For, in the world of love + And estimation true, + The heaped-up harvest of the moon + Is worth one barley-corn at most, + The Pleiads' sheaf but two. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If my darling should depart, + And search the skies for prouder friends, + God forbid my angry heart + In other love should seek amends. + + When the blue horizon's hoop + Me a little pinches here, + Instant to my grave I stoop, + And go find thee in the sphere. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0158" id="link2H_4_0158"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPITAPH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; + For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, + She laid a slab of marble on his head. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +They say, through patience, chalk + Becomes a ruby stone; + Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood + The chalk is crimson grown. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0159" id="link2H_4_0159"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRIENDSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls + Know the worth of Oman's pearls? + Give the gem which dims the moon + To the noblest, or to none. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, + Beauty sits and Music calls; + Where thy form and favor come, + All good creatures have their home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On prince or bride no diamond stone + Half so gracious ever shone, + As the light of enterprise + Beaming from a young man's eyes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0160" id="link2H_4_0160"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each spot where tulips prank their state + Has drunk the life-blood of the great; + The violets yon field which stain + Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art, + Show me the forward way, since thou art guide, + I put no faith in pilot or in chart, + Since they are transient, and thou dost abide. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0161" id="link2H_4_0161"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, + And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, + The appointed, and the unappointed day; + On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, + Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0162" id="link2H_4_0162"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM IBN JEMIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;— + A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; + And the second, borrowed money,—though the smiling lender say + That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0163" id="link2H_4_0163"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FLUTE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM HILALI + + Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, + Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; + Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,— + If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0164" id="link2H_4_0164"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM HAFIZ + + Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, + Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0165" id="link2H_4_0165"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM ENWERI + + Not in their houses stand the stars, + But o'er the pinnacles of thine! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0166" id="link2H_4_0166"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM ENWERI + + From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, + And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0167" id="link2H_4_0167"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical + dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly + bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he + revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, + as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.] + + Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, + Nor head from foot can I discern, + Nor my heart from love of mine, + Nor the wine-cup from the wine. + All my doing, all my leaving, + Reaches not to my perceiving; + Lost in whirling spheres I rove, + And know only that I love. + + I am seeker of the stone, + Living gem of Solomon; + From the shore of souls arrived, + In the sea of sense I dived; + But what is land, or what is wave, + To me who only jewels crave? + Love is the air-fed fire intense, + And my heart the frankincense; + As the rich aloes flames, I glow, + Yet the censer cannot know. + I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; + Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + Ask not me, as Muftis can, + To recite the Alcoran; + Well I love the meaning sweet,— + I tread the book beneath my feet. + + Lo! the God's love blazes higher, + Till all difference expire. + What are Moslems? what are Giaours? + All are Love's, and all are ours. + I embrace the true believers, + But I reck not of deceivers. + Firm to Heaven my bosom clings, + Heedless of inferior things; + Down on earth there, underfoot, + What men chatter know I not. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0168" id="link2H_4_0168"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V — APPENDIX + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0169" id="link2H_4_0169"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Right upward on the road of fame + With sounding steps the poet came; + Born and nourished in miracles, + His feet were shod with golden bells, + Or where he stepped the soil did peal + As if the dust were glass and steel. + The gallant child where'er he came + Threw to each fact a tuneful name. + The things whereon he cast his eyes + Could not the nations rebaptize, + Nor Time's snows hide the names he set, + Nor last posterity forget. + Yet every scroll whereon he wrote + In latent fire his secret thought, + Fell unregarded to the ground, + Unseen by such as stood around. + The pious wind took it away, + The reverent darkness hid the lay. + Methought like water-haunting birds + Divers or dippers were his words, + And idle clowns beside the mere + At the new vision gape and jeer. + But when the noisy scorn was past, + Emerge the wingèd words in haste. + New-bathed, new-trimmed, on healthy wing, + Right to the heaven they steer and sing. + + A Brother of the world, his song + Sounded like a tempest strong + Which tore from oaks their branches broad, + And stars from the ecliptic road. + Times wore he as his clothing-weeds, + He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. + As melts the iceberg in the seas, + As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, + As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, + The solid kingdoms like a dream + Resist in vain his motive strain, + They totter now and float amain. + For the Muse gave special charge + His learning should be deep and large, + And his training should not scant + The deepest lore of wealth or want: + His flesh should feel, his eyes should read + Every maxim of dreadful Need; + In its fulness he should taste + Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; + Full fed, but not intoxicated; + He should be loved; he should be hated; + A blooming child to children dear, + His heart should palpitate with fear. + + And well he loved to quit his home + And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam + To read new landscapes and old skies;— + But oh, to see his solar eyes + Like meteors which chose their way + And rived the dark like a new day! + Not lazy grazing on all they saw, + Each chimney-pot and cottage door, + Farm-gear and village picket-fence, + But, feeding on magnificence, + They bounded to the horizon's edge + And searched with the sun's privilege. + Landward they reached the mountains old + Where pastoral tribes their flocks infold, + Saw rivers run seaward by cities high + And the seas wash the low-hung sky; + Saw the endless rack of the firmament + And the sailing moon where the cloud was rent, + And through man and woman and sea and star + Saw the dance of Nature forward and far, + Through worlds and races and terms and times + Saw musical order and pairing rhymes. + + II + + The gods talk in the breath of the woods, + They talk in the shaken pine, + And fill the long reach of the old seashore + With dialogue divine; + And the poet who overhears + Some random word they say + Is the fated man of men + Whom the ages must obey: + One who having nectar drank + Into blissful orgies sank; + He takes no mark of night or day, + He cannot go, he cannot stay, + He would, yet would not, counsel keep, + But, like a walker in his sleep + With staring eye that seeth none, + Ridiculously up and down + Seeks how he may fitly tell + The heart-o'erlading miracle. + + Not yet, not yet, + Impatient friend,— + A little while attend; + Not yet I sing: but I must wait, + My hand upon the silent string, + Fully until the end. + I see the coming light, + I see the scattered gleams, + Aloft, beneath, on left and right + The stars' own ether beams; + These are but seeds of days, + Not yet a steadfast morn, + An intermittent blaze, + An embryo god unborn. + + How all things sparkle, + The dust is alive, + To the birth they arrive: + I snuff the breath of my morning afar, + I see the pale lustres condense to a star: + The fading colors fix, + The vanishing are seen, + And the world that shall be + Twins the world that has been. + I know the appointed hour, + I greet my office well, + Never faster, never slower + Revolves the fatal wheel! + The Fairest enchants me, + The Mighty commands me, + Saying, 'Stand in thy place; + Up and eastward turn thy face; + As mountains for the morning wait, + Coming early, coming late, + So thou attend the enriching Fate + Which none can stay, and none accelerate. + I am neither faint nor weary, + Fill thy will, O faultless heart! + Here from youth to age I tarry,— + Count it flight of bird or dart. + My heart at the heart of things + Heeds no longer lapse of time, + Rushing ages moult their wings, + Bathing in thy day sublime. + + The sun set, but set not his hope:— + Stars rose, his faith was earlier up: + Fixed on the enormous galaxy, + Deeper and older seemed his eye, + And matched his sufferance sublime + The taciturnity of Time. + + Beside his hut and shading oak, + Thus to himself the poet spoke, + 'I have supped to-night with gods, + I will not go under a wooden roof: + As I walked among the hills + In the love which Nature fills, + The great stars did not shine aloof, + They hurried down from their deep abodes + And hemmed me in their glittering troop. + + 'Divine Inviters! I accept + The courtesy ye have shown and kept + From ancient ages for the bard, + To modulate + With finer fate + A fortune harsh and hard. + With aim like yours + I watch your course, + Who never break your lawful dance + By error or intemperance. + O birds of ether without wings! + O heavenly ships without a sail! + O fire of fire! O best of things! + O mariners who never fail! + Sail swiftly through your amber vault, + An animated law, a presence to exalt.' + + Ah, happy if a sun or star + Could chain the wheel of Fortune's car, + And give to hold an even state, + Neither dejected nor elate, + That haply man upraised might keep + The height of Fancy's far-eyed steep. + In vain: the stars are glowing wheels, + Giddy with motion Nature reels, + Sun, moon, man, undulate and stream, + The mountains flow, the solids seem, + Change acts, reacts; back, forward hurled, + And pause were palsy to the world.— + The morn is come: the starry crowds + Are hid behind the thrice-piled clouds; + The new day lowers, and equal odds + Have changed not less the guest of gods; + Discrowned and timid, thoughtless, worn, + The child of genius sits forlorn: + Between two sleeps a short day's stealth, + 'Mid many ails a brittle health, + A cripple of God, half true, half formed, + And by great sparks Promethean warmed, + Constrained by impotence to adjourn + To infinite time his eager turn, + His lot of action at the urn. + He by false usage pinned about + No breath therein, no passage out, + Cast wishful glances at the stars + And wishful saw the Ocean stream:— + 'Merge me in the brute universe, + Or lift to a diviner dream!' + + Beside him sat enduring love, + Upon him noble eyes did rest, + Which, for the Genius that there strove. + The follies bore that it invest. + They spoke not, for their earnest sense + Outran the craft of eloquence. + + He whom God had thus preferred,— + To whom sweet angels ministered, + Saluted him each morn as brother, + And bragged his virtues to each other,— + Alas! how were they so beguiled, + And they so pure? He, foolish child, + A facile, reckless, wandering will, + Eager for good, not hating ill, + Thanked Nature for each stroke she dealt; + On his tense chords all strokes were felt, + The good, the bad with equal zeal, + He asked, he only asked, to feel. + Timid, self-pleasing, sensitive, + With Gods, with fools, content to live; + Bended to fops who bent to him; + Surface with surfaces did swim. + + 'Sorrow, sorrow!' the angels cried, + 'Is this dear Nature's manly pride? + Call hither thy mortal enemy, + Make him glad thy fall to see! + Yon waterflag, yon sighing osier, + A drop can shake, a breath can fan; + Maidens laugh and weep; Composure + Is the pudency of man,' + + Again by night the poet went + From the lighted halls + Beneath the darkling firmament + To the seashore, to the old seawalls, + Out shone a star beneath the cloud, + The constellation glittered soon,— + You have no lapse; so have ye glowed + But once in your dominion. + And yet, dear stars, I know ye shine + Only by needs and loves of mine; + Light-loving, light-asking life in me + Feeds those eternal lamps I see. + And I to whom your light has spoken, + I, pining to be one of you, + I fall, my faith is broken, + Ye scorn me from your deeps of blue. + Or if perchance, ye orbs of Fate, + Your ne'er averted glance + Beams with a will compassionate + On sons of time and chance, + Then clothe these hands with power + In just proportion, + Nor plant immense designs + Where equal means are none.' + + CHORUS OF SPIRITS + + Means, dear brother, ask them not; + Soul's desire is means enow, + Pure content is angel's lot, + Thine own theatre art thou. + + Gentler far than falls the snow + In the woodwalks still and low + Fell the lesson on his heart + And woke the fear lest angels part. + + POET + + I see your forms with deep content, + I know that ye are excellent, + But will ye stay? + I hear the rustle of wings, + Ye meditate what to say + Ere ye go to quit me for ever and aye. + + SPIRITS + + Brother, we are no phantom band; + Brother, accept this fatal hand. + Aches thine unbelieving heart + With the fear that we must part? + See, all we are rooted here + By one thought to one same sphere; + From thyself thou canst not flee,— + From thyself no more can we. + + POET + + Suns and stars their courses keep, + But not angels of the deep: + Day and night their turn observe, + But the day of day may swerve. + Is there warrant that the waves + Of thought in their mysterious caves + Will heap in me their highest tide, + In me therewith beatified? + Unsure the ebb and flood of thought, + The moon comes back,—the Spirit not. + + SPIRITS + + Brother, sweeter is the Law + Than all the grace Love ever saw; + We are its suppliants. By it, we + Draw the breath of Eternity; + Serve thou it not for daily bread,— + Serve it for pain and fear and need. + Love it, though it hide its light; + By love behold the sun at night. + If the Law should thee forget, + More enamoured serve it yet; + Though it hate thee, suffer long; + Put the Spirit in the wrong; + Brother, no decrepitude + Chills the limbs of Time; + As fleet his feet, his hands as good, + His vision as sublime: + On Nature's wheels there is no rust; + Nor less on man's enchanted dust + Beauty and Force alight. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0170" id="link2H_4_0170"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + There are beggars in Iran and Araby, + SAID was hungrier than all; + Hafiz said he was a fly + That came to every festival. + He came a pilgrim to the Mosque + On trail of camel and caravan, + Knew every temple and kiosk + Out from Mecca to Ispahan; + Northward he went to the snowy hills, + At court he sat in the grave Divan. + His music was the south-wind's sigh, + His lamp, the maiden's downcast eye, + And ever the spell of beauty came + And turned the drowsy world to flame. + By lake and stream and gleaming hall + And modest copse and the forest tall, + Where'er he went, the magic guide + Kept its place by the poet's side. + Said melted the days like cups of pearl, + Served high and low, the lord and the churl, + Loved harebells nodding on a rock, + A cabin hung with curling smoke, + Ring of axe or hum of wheel + Or gleam which use can paint on steel, + And huts and tents; nor loved he less + Stately lords in palaces, + Princely women hard to please, + Fenced by form and ceremony, + Decked by courtly rites and dress + And etiquette of gentilesse. + But when the mate of the snow and wind, + He left each civil scale behind: + Him wood-gods fed with honey wild + And of his memory beguiled. + He loved to watch and wake + When the wing of the south-wind whipt the lake + And the glassy surface in ripples brake + And fled in pretty frowns away + Like the flitting boreal lights, + Rippling roses in northern nights, + Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings + In which the sudden wind-god rings. + In caves and hollow trees he crept + And near the wolf and panther slept. + He came to the green ocean's brim + And saw the wheeling sea-birds skim, + Summer and winter, o'er the wave, + Like creatures of a skiey mould, + Impassible to heat or cold. + He stood before the tumbling main + With joy too tense for sober brain; + He shared the life of the element, + The tie of blood and home was rent: + As if in him the welkin walked, + The winds took flesh, the mountains talked, + And he the bard, a crystal soul + Sphered and concentric with the whole. + + II + + The Dervish whined to Said, + "Thou didst not tarry while I prayed. + Beware the fire that Eblis burned," + But Saadi coldly thus returned, + "Once with manlike love and fear + I gave thee for an hour my ear, + I kept the sun and stars at bay, + And love, for words thy tongue could say. + I cannot sell my heaven again + For all that rattles in thy brain." + + III + + Said Saadi, "When I stood before + Hassan the camel-driver's door, + I scorned the fame of Timour brave; + Timour, to Hassan, was a slave. + In every glance of Hassan's eye + I read great years of victory, + And I, who cower mean and small + In the frequent interval + When wisdom not with me resides, + Worship Toil's wisdom that abides. + I shunned his eyes, that faithful man's, + I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance." + + IV + + The civil world will much forgive + To bards who from its maxims live, + But if, grown bold, the poet dare + Bend his practice to his prayer + And following his mighty heart + Shame the times and live apart,— + <i>Vae solis!</i> I found this, + That of goods I could not miss + If I fell within the line, + Once a member, all was mine, + Houses, banquets, gardens, fountains, + Fortune's delectable mountains; + But if I would walk alone, + Was neither cloak nor crumb my own. + And thus the high Muse treated me, + Directly never greeted me, + But when she spread her dearest spells, + Feigned to speak to some one else. + I was free to overhear, + Or I might at will forbear; + Yet mark me well, that idle word + Thus at random overheard + Was the symphony of spheres, + And proverb of a thousand years, + The light wherewith all planets shone, + The livery all events put on, + It fell in rain, it grew in grain, + It put on flesh in friendly form, + Frowned in my foe and growled in storm, + It spoke in Tullius Cicero, + In Milton and in Angelo: + I travelled and found it at Rome; + Eastward it filled all Heathendom + And it lay on my hearth when I came home. + + V + + Mask thy wisdom with delight, + Toy with the bow, yet hit the white, + As Jelaleddin old and gray; + He seemed to bask, to dream and play + Without remoter hope or fear + Than still to entertain his ear + And pass the burning summer-time + In the palm-grove with a rhyme; + Heedless that each cunning word + Tribes and ages overheard: + Those idle catches told the laws + Holding Nature to her cause. + + God only knew how Saadi dined; + Roses he ate, and drank the wind; + He freelier breathed beside the pine, + In cities he was low and mean; + The mountain waters washed him clean + And by the sea-waves he was strong; + He heard their medicinal song, + Asked no physician but the wave, + No palace but his sea-beat cave. + + Saadi held the Muse in awe, + She was his mistress and his law; + A twelvemonth he could silence hold, + Nor ran to speak till she him told; + He felt the flame, the fanning wings, + Nor offered words till they were things, + Glad when the solid mountain swims + In music and uplifting hymns. + + Charmed from fagot and from steel, + Harvests grew upon his tongue, + Past and future must reveal + All their heart when Saadi sung; + Sun and moon must fall amain + Like sower's seeds into his brain, + There quickened to be born again. + + The free winds told him what they knew, + Discoursed of fortune as they blew; + Omens and signs that filled the air + To him authentic witness bare; + The birds brought auguries on their wings, + And carolled undeceiving things + Him to beckon, him to warn; + Well might then the poet scorn + To learn of scribe or courier + Things writ in vaster character; + And on his mind at dawn of day + Soft shadows of the evening lay. + + * * * + + Pale genius roves alone, + No scout can track his way, + None credits him till he have shown + His diamonds to the day. + + Not his the feaster's wine, + Nor land, nor gold, nor power, + By want and pain God screeneth him + Till his elected hour. + + Go, speed the stars of Thought + On to their shining goals:— + The sower scatters broad his seed, + The wheat thou strew'st be souls. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I grieve that better souls than mine + Docile read my measured line: + High destined youths and holy maids + Hallow these my orchard shades; + Environ me and me baptize + With light that streams from gracious eyes. + I dare not be beloved and known, + I ungrateful, I alone. + + Ever find me dim regards, + Love of ladies, love of bards, + Marked forbearance, compliments, + Tokens of benevolence. + What then, can I love myself? + Fame is profitless as pelf, + A good in Nature not allowed + They love me, as I love a cloud + Sailing falsely in the sphere, + Hated mist if it come near. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For thought, and not praise; + Thought is the wages + For which I sell days, + Will gladly sell ages + And willing grow old + Deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold, + Melting matter into dreams, + Panoramas which I saw + And whatever glows or seems + Into substance, into Law. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Fancy's gift + Can mountains lift; + The Muse can knit + What is past, what is done, + With the web that's just begun; + Making free with time and size, + Dwindles here, there magnifies, + Swells a rain-drop to a tun; + So to repeat + No word or feat + Crowds in a day the sum of ages, + And blushing Love outwits the sages. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Try the might the Muse affords + And the balm of thoughtful words; + Bring music to the desolate; + Hang roses on the stony fate. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But over all his crowning grace, + Wherefor thanks God his daily praise, + Is the purging of his eye + To see the people of the sky: + From blue mount and headland dim + Friendly hands stretch forth to him, + Him they beckon, him advise + Of heavenlier prosperities + And a more excelling grace + And a truer bosom-glow + Than the wine-fed feasters know. + They turn his heart from lovely maids, + And make the darlings of the earth + Swainish, coarse and nothing worth: + Teach him gladly to postpone + Pleasures to another stage + Beyond the scope of human age, + Freely as task at eve undone + Waits unblamed to-morrow's sun. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +By thoughts I lead + Bards to say what nations need; + What imports, what irks and what behooves, + Framed afar as Fates and Loves. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, + So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I framed his tongue to music, + I armed his hand with skill, + I moulded his face to beauty + And his heart the throne of Will. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For every God + Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For art, for music over-thrilled, + The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; + Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That book is good + Which puts me in a working mood. + Unless to Thought is added Will, + Apollo is an imbecile. + What parts, what gems, what colors shine,— + Ah, but I miss the grand design. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Like vaulters in a circus round + Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Genius made his cabin wide, + And Love led Gods therein to bide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The atom displaces all atoms beside, + And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem + The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He could condense cerulean ether + Into the very best sole-leather. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, + In mercy, on one little head. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have no brothers and no peers, + And the dearest interferes: + When I would spend a lonely day, + Sun and moon are in my way. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The brook sings on, but sings in vain + Wanting the echo in my brain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He planted where the deluge ploughed. + His hired hands were wind and cloud; + His eyes detect the Gods concealed + In the hummock of the field. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For what need I of book or priest, + Or sibyl from the mummied East, + When every star is Bethlehem star? + I count as many as there are + Cinquefoils or violets in the grass, + So many saints and saviors, + So many high behaviors + Salute the bard who is alive + And only sees what he doth give. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Coin the day-dawn into lines + In which its proper splendor shines; + Coin the moonlight into verse + Which all its marvel shall rehearse, + Chasing with words fast-flowing things; nor try + To plant thy shrivelled pedantry + On the shoulders of the sky. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! + A better voice peals through my song. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, + A bolder foot is still rewarded. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +His instant thought a poet spoke, + And filled the age his fame; + An inch of ground the lightning strook + But lit the sky with flame. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; + And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Asmodean feat is mine, + To spin my sand-heap into twine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue, + But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0171" id="link2H_4_0171"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0172" id="link2H_4_0172"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The patient Pan, + Drunken with nectar, + Sleeps or feigns slumber, + Drowsily humming + Music to the march of time. + This poor tooting, creaking cricket, + Pan, half asleep, rolling over + His great body in the grass, + Tooting, creaking, + Feigns to sleep, sleeping never; + 'T is his manner, + Well he knows his own affair, + Piling mountain chains of phlegm + On the nervous brain of man, + As he holds down central fires + Under Alps and Andes cold; + Haply else we could not live, + Life would be too wild an ode. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Come search the wood for flowers,— + Wild tea and wild pea, + Grapevine and succory, + Coreopsis + And liatris, + Flaunting in their bowers; + Grass with green flag half-mast high, + Succory to match the sky, + Columbine with horn of honey, + Scented fern and agrimony; + Forest full of essences + Fit for fairy presences, + Peppermint and sassafras, + Sweet fern, mint and vernal grass, + Panax, black birch, sugar maple, + Sweet and scent for Dian's table, + Elder-blow, sarsaparilla, + Wild rose, lily, dry vanilla,— + Spices in the plants that run + To bring their first fruits to the sun. + Earliest heats that follow frore + Nervèd leaf of hellebore, + Sweet willow, checkerberry red, + With its savory leaf for bread. + Silver birch and black + With the selfsame spice + Found in polygala root and rind, + Sassafras, fern, benzöine, + Mouse-ear, cowslip, wintergreen, + Which by aroma may compel + The frost to spare, what scents so well. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Where the fungus broad and red + Lifts its head, + Like poisoned loaf of elfin bread, + Where the aster grew + With the social goldenrod, + In a chapel, which the dew + Made beautiful for God:— + O what would Nature say? + She spared no speech to-day: + The fungus and the bulrush spoke, + Answered the pine-tree and the oak, + The wizard South blew down the glen, + Filled the straits and filled the wide, + Each maple leaf turned up its silver side. + All things shine in his smoky ray, + And all we see are pictures high; + Many a high hillside, + While oaks of pride + Climb to their tops, + And boys run out upon their leafy ropes. + The maple street + In the houseless wood, + Voices followed after, + Every shrub and grape leaf + Rang with fairy laughter. + I have heard them fall + Like the strain of all + King Oberon's minstrelsy. + Would hear the everlasting + And know the only strong? + You must worship fasting, + You must listen long. + Words of the air + Which birds of the air + Carry aloft, below, around, + To the isles of the deep, + To the snow-capped steep, + To the thundercloud. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Nature, true and like in every place, + Will hint her secret in a garden patch, + Or in lone corners of a doleful heath, + As in the Andes watched by fleets at sea, + Or the sky-piercing horns of Himmaleh; + And, when I would recall the scenes I dreamed + On Adirondac steeps, I know + Small need have I of Turner or Daguerre, + Assured to find the token once again + In silver lakes that unexhausted gleam + And peaceful woods beside my cottage door. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What all the books of ages paint, I have. + What prayers and dreams of youthful genius feign, + I daily dwell in, and am not so blind + But I can see the elastic tent of day + Belike has wider hospitality + Than my few needs exhaust, and bids me read + The quaint devices on its mornings gay. + Yet Nature will not be in full possessed, + And they who truliest love her, heralds are + And harbingers of a majestic race, + Who, having more absorbed, more largely yield, + And walk on earth as the sun walks in the sphere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But never yet the man was found + Who could the mystery expound, + Though Adam, born when oaks were young, + Endured, the Bible says, as long; + But when at last the patriarch died + The Gordian noose was still untied. + He left, though goodly centuries old, + Meek Nature's secret still untold. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Atom from atom yawns as far + As moon from earth, or star from star. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + To deck the morning of the year, + Why tinge thy lustres jubilant + With forecast or with fear? + + Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, + Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin + To use my land to put his rainbows in. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, + And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What central flowing forces, say, + Make up thy splendor, matchless day? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more; + In her hundred-gated Thebes every chamber was a door, + A door to something grander,—loftier walls, and vaster floor. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She paints with white and red the moors + To draw the nations out of doors. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A score of airy miles will smooth + Rough Monadnoc to a gem. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0173" id="link2H_4_0173"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EARTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar + Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0174" id="link2H_4_0174"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HEAVENS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wisp and meteor nightly falling, + But the Stars of God remain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0175" id="link2H_4_0175"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSITION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See yonder leafless trees against the sky, + How they diffuse themselves into the air, + And, ever subdividing, separate + Limbs into branches, branches into twigs. + As if they loved the element, and hasted + To dissipate their being into it. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Parks and ponds are good by day; + I do not delight + In black acres of the night, + Nor my unseasoned step disturbs + The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In Walden wood the chickadee + Runs round the pine and maple tree + Intent on insect slaughter: + O tufted entomologist! + Devour as many as you list, + Then drink in Walden water. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The low December vault in June be lifted high, + And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0176" id="link2H_4_0176"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GARDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Many things the garden shows, + And pleased I stray + From tree to tree + Watching the white pear-bloom, + Bee-infested quince or plum. + I could walk days, years, away + Till the slow ripening, secular tree + Had reached its fruiting-time, + Nor think it long. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Solar insect on the wing + In the garden murmuring, + Soothing with thy summer horn + Swains by winter pinched and worn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0177" id="link2H_4_0177"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIRDS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Darlings of children and of bard, + Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, + All of worth and beauty set + Gems in Nature's cabinet; + These the fables she esteems + Reality most like to dreams. + Welcome back, you little nations, + Far-travelled in the south plantations; + Bring your music and rhythmic flight, + Your colors for our eyes' delight: + Freely nestle in our roof, + Weave your chamber weatherproof; + And your enchanting manners bring + And your autumnal gathering. + Exchange in conclave general + Greetings kind to each and all, + Conscious each of duty done + And unstainèd as the sun. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0178" id="link2H_4_0178"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WATER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The water understands + Civilization well; + It wets my foot, but prettily + It chills my life, but wittily, + It is not disconcerted, + It is not broken-hearted: + Well used, it decketh joy, + Adorneth, doubleth joy: + Ill used, it will destroy, + In perfect time and measure + With a face of golden pleasure + Elegantly destroy. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0179" id="link2H_4_0179"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NAHANT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All day the waves assailed the rock, + I heard no church-bell chime, + The sea-beat scorns the minster clock + And breaks the glass of Time. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0180" id="link2H_4_0180"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUNRISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Would you know what joy is hid + In our green Musketaquid, + And for travelled eyes what charms + Draw us to these meadow farms, + Come and I will show you all + Makes each day a festival. + Stand upon this pasture hill, + Face the eastern star until + The slow eye of heaven shall show + The world above, the world below. + + Behold the miracle! + Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad + And stood beneath the firmament, + A watchman in a dark gray tent, + Waiting till God create the earth,— + Behold the new majestic birth! + The mottled clouds, like scraps of wool, + Steeped in the light are beautiful. + What majestic stillness broods + Over these colored solitudes. + Sleeps the vast East in pleasèd peace, + Up the far mountain walls the streams increase + Inundating the heaven + With spouting streams and waves of light + Which round the floating isles unite:— + See the world below + Baptized with the pure element, + A clear and glorious firmament + Touched with life by every beam. + I share the good with every flower, + I drink the nectar of the hour:— + This is not the ancient earth + Whereof old chronicles relate + The tragic tales of crime and fate; + But rather, like its beads of dew + And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, + An exhalation of the time. + + * * * +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0181" id="link2H_4_0181"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NIGHT IN JUNE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I left my dreary page and sallied forth, + Received the fair inscriptions of the night; + The moon was making amber of the world, + Glittered with silver every cottage pane, + The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom. + The meadows broad + From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers + Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies + Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court + In fairy groves of herds-grass. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He lives not who can refuse me; + All my force saith, Come and use me: + A gleam of sun, a summer rain, + And all the zone is green again. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, + Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, + As if on such stern forms and haunts + A wintry storm more fitly fell. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + And split to flakes the crystal ledges. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0182" id="link2H_4_0182"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAIA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Illusion works impenetrable, + Weaving webs innumerable, + Her gay pictures never fail, + Crowds each on other, veil on veil, + Charmer who will be believed + By man who thirsts to be deceived. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Illusions like the tints of pearl, + Or changing colors of the sky, + Or ribbons of a dancing girl + That mend her beauty to the eye. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth + And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon + To share the sunshine that so spicy is. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, + Gropes for columns strong as he; + When his ringlets grew and curled, + Groped for axle of the world. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But Nature whistled with all her winds, + Did as she pleased and went her way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0183" id="link2H_4_0183"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIFE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A train of gay and clouded days + Dappled with joy and grief and praise, + Beauty to fire us, saints to save, + Escort us to a little grave. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, + For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, + So guilt not traverses his tender will. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Around the man who seeks a noble end, + Not angels but divinities attend. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, + The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +This shining moment is an edifice + Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Roomy Eternity + Casts her schemes rarely, + And an aeon allows + For each quality and part + Of the multitudinous + And many-chambered heart. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The beggar begs by God's command, + And gifts awake when givers sleep, + Swords cannot cut the giving hand + Nor stab the love that orphans keep. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come + Lemurs and Lars. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Such another peerless queen + Only could her mirror show. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Easy to match what others do, + Perform the feat as well as they; + Hard to out-do the brave, the true, + And find a loftier way: + The school decays, the learning spoils + Because of the sons of wine; + How snatch the stripling from their toils?— + Yet can one ray of truth divine + The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Of all wit's uses the main one + Is to live well with who has none. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The tongue is prone to lose the way, + Not so the pen, for in a letter + We have not better things to say, + But surely say them better. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She walked in flowers around my field + As June herself around the sphere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Friends to me are frozen wine; + I wait the sun on them should shine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +You shall not love me for what daily spends; + You shall not know me in the noisy street, + Where I, as others, follow petty ends; + Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; + Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean. + But love me then and only, when you know + Me for the channel of the rivers of God + From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To and fro the Genius flies, + A light which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head + And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. + Of her faults I take no note, + Fault and folly are not mine; + Comes the Genius,—all's forgot, + Replunged again into that upper sphere + He scatters wide and wild its lustres here. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Love + Asks nought his brother cannot give; + Asks nothing, but does all receive. + Love calls not to his aid events; + He to his wants can well suffice: + Asks not of others soft consents, + Nor kind occasion without eyes; + Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, + Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,— + Where he goes, goes before him Fate; + Whom he uniteth, God installs; + Instant and perfect his access + To the dear object of his thought, + Though foes and land and seas between + Himself and his love intervene. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The brave Empedocles, defying fools, + Pronounced the word that mortals hate to hear— + "I am divine, I am not mortal made; + I am superior to my human weeds." + Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; + Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; + That human part may be described and taught, + The other portion language cannot speak. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Tell men what they knew before; + Paint the prospect from their door. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Him strong Genius urged to roam, + Stronger Custom brought him home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That each should in his house abide. + Therefore was the world so wide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Thou shalt make thy house + The temple of a nation's vows. + Spirits of a higher strain + Who sought thee once shall seek again. + I detected many a god + Forth already on the road, + Ancestors of beauty come + In thy breast to make a home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The archangel Hope + Looks to the azure cope, + Waits through dark ages for the morn, + Defeated day by day, but unto victory born. + + As the drop feeds its fated flower, + As finds its Alp the snowy shower, + Child of the omnific Need, + Hurled into life to do a deed, + Man drinks the water, drinks the light. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, + To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; + I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken + Shall his own sorrow seem impertinent, + A thing that takes no more root in the world + Than doth the traveller's shadow on the rock. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But if thou do thy best, + Without remission, without rest, + And invite the sunbeam, + And abhor to feign or seem + Even to those who thee should love + And thy behavior approve; + If thou go in thine own likeness, + Be it health, or be it sickness; + If thou go as thy father's son, + If thou wear no mask or lie, + Dealing purely and nakedly,— + + * * * +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ascending thorough just degrees + To a consummate holiness, + As angel blind to trespass done, + And bleaching all souls like the sun. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +From the stores of eldest matter, + The deep-eyed flame, obedient water, + Transparent air, all-feeding earth, + He took the flower of all their worth, + And, best with best in sweet consent, + Combined a new temperament. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0184" id="link2H_4_0184"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + REX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bard and mystic held me for their own, + I filled the dream of sad, poetic maids, + I took the friendly noble by the hand, + I was the trustee of the hand-cart man, + The brother of the fisher, porter, swain, + And these from the crowd's edge well pleased beheld + The service done to me as done to them. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +With the key of the secret he marches faster, + From strength to strength, and for night brings day; + While classes or tribes, too weak to master + The flowing conditions of life, give way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0185" id="link2H_4_0185"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUUM CUIQUE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? + Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If curses be the wage of love, + Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, + Not to be named: + It is clear + Why the gods will not appear; + They are ashamed. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, + And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, + Sit still and Truth is near: + Suddenly it will uplift + Your eyelids to the sphere: + Wait a little, you shall see + The portraiture of things to be. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The rules to men made evident + By Him who built the day, + The columns of the firmament + Not firmer based than they. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! + Time hath his work to do and we have ours. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0186" id="link2H_4_0186"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In many forms we try + To utter God's infinity, + But the boundless hath no form, + And the Universal Friend + Doth as far transcend + An angel as a worm. + + The great Idea baffles wit, + Language falters under it, + It leaves the learned in the lurch; + Nor art, nor power, nor toil can find + The measure of the eternal Mind, + Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0187" id="link2H_4_0187"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GRACE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How much, preventing God, how much I owe + To the defences thou hast round me set; + Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,— + These scorned bondmen were my parapet. + I dare not peep over this parapet + To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, + The depths of sin to which I had descended, + Had not these me against myself defended. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0188" id="link2H_4_0188"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Power that by obedience grows, + Knowledge which its source not knows, + Wave which severs whom it bears + From the things which he compares, + Adding wings through things to range, + To his own blood harsh and strange. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0189" id="link2H_4_0189"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O what are heroes, prophets, men, + But pipes through which the breath of Pan doth blow + A momentary music. Being's tide + Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms + Live, robed with beauty, painted by the sun; + Their dust, pervaded by the nerves of God, + Throbs with an overmastering energy + Knowing and doing. Ebbs the tide, they lie + White hollow shells upon the desert shore, + But not the less the eternal wave rolls on + To animate new millions, and exhale + Races and planets, its enchanted foam. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0190" id="link2H_4_0190"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONADNOC FROM AFAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dark flower of Cheshire garden, + Red evening duly dyes + Thy sombre head with rosy hues + To fix far-gazing eyes. + Well the Planter knew how strongly + Works thy form on human thought; + I muse what secret purpose had he + To draw all fancies to this spot. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0191" id="link2H_4_0191"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEPTEMBER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the turbulent beauty + Of a gusty Autumn day, + Poet on a sunny headland + Sighed his soul away. + + Farms the sunny landscape dappled, + Swandown clouds dappled the farms, + Cattle lowed in mellow distance + Where far oaks outstretched their arms. + + Sudden gusts came full of meaning, + All too much to him they said, + Oh, south winds have long memories, + Of that be none afraid. + + I cannot tell rude listeners + Half the tell-tale South-wind said,— + 'T would bring the blushes of yon maples + To a man and to a maid. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0192" id="link2H_4_0192"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EROS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They put their finger on their lip, + The Powers above: + The seas their islands clip, + The moons in ocean dip, + They love, but name not love. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0193" id="link2H_4_0193"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OCTOBER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + October woods wherein + The boy's dream comes to pass, + And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, + And crowns him with a more than royal crown, + And unimagined splendor waits his steps. + The gazing urchin walks through tents of gold, + Through crimson chambers, porphyry and pearl, + Pavilion on pavilion, garlanded, + Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, + Color and sound, music to eye and ear, + Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0194" id="link2H_4_0194"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PETER'S FIELD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, + What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn?] + + That field by spirits bad and good, + By Hell and Heaven is haunted, + And every rood in the hemlock wood + I know is ground enchanted. + + [In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts: + I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts.] + + For in those lonely grounds the sun + Shines not as on the town, + In nearer arcs his journeys run, + And nearer stoops the moon. + + There in a moment I have seen + The buried Past arise; + The fields of Thessaly grew green, + Old gods forsook the skies. + + I cannot publish in my rhyme + What pranks the greenwood played; + It was the Carnival of time, + And Ages went or stayed. + + To me that spectral nook appeared + The mustering Day of Doom, + And round me swarmed in shadowy troop + Things past and things to come. + + The darkness haunteth me elsewhere; + There I am full of light; + In every whispering leaf I hear + More sense than sages write. + + Underwoods were full of pleasance, + All to each in kindness bend, + And every flower made obeisance + As a man unto his friend. + + Far seen, the river glides below, + Tossing one sparkle to the eyes: + I catch thy meaning, wizard wave; + The River of my Life replies. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0195" id="link2H_4_0195"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MUSIC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let me go where'er I will, + I hear a sky-born music still: + It sounds from all things old, + It sounds from all things young, + From all that's fair, from all that's foul, + Peals out a cheerful song. + + It is not only in the rose, + It is not only in the bird, + Not only where the rainbow glows, + Nor in the song of woman heard, + But in the darkest, meanest things + There alway, alway something sings. + + 'T is not in the high stars alone, + Nor in the cup of budding flowers, + Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, + Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, + But in the mud and scum of things + There alway, alway something sings. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0196" id="link2H_4_0196"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WALK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Queen rejoices in her peers, + And wary Nature knows her own + By court and city, dale and down, + And like a lover volunteers, + And to her son will treasures more + And more to purpose freely pour + In one wood walk, than learned men + Can find with glass in ten times ten. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0197" id="link2H_4_0197"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COSMOS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, + Or who can date the morning. + The purple flaming of love? + + I saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, + And I can date the morning prime + And purple flame of love. + + Song breathed from all the forest, + The total air was fame; + It seemed the world was all torches + That suddenly caught the flame. + + * * * + + Is there never a retroscope mirror + In the realms and corners of space + That can give us a glimpse of the battle + And the soldiers face to face? + + Sit here on the basalt courses + Where twisted hills betray + The seat of the world-old Forces + Who wrestled here on a day. + + * * * + + When the purple flame shoots up, + And Love ascends his throne, + I cannot hear your songs, O birds, + For the witchery of my own. + + And every human heart + Still keeps that golden day + And rings the bells of jubilee + On its own First of May. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0198" id="link2H_4_0198"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MIRACLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have trod this path a hundred times + With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. + I know each nest and web-worm's tent, + The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, + Maple and oak, the old Divan + Self-planted twice, like the banian. + I know not why I came again + Unless to learn it ten times ten. + To read the sense the woods impart + You must bring the throbbing heart. + Love is aye the counterforce,— + Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, + Newest knowledge, fiery thought, + Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. + Wandering yester morn the brake, + I reached this heath beside the lake, + And oh, the wonder of the power, + The deeper secret of the hour! + Nature, the supplement of man, + His hidden sense interpret can;— + What friend to friend cannot convey + Shall the dumb bird instructed say. + Passing yonder oak, I heard + Sharp accents of my woodland bird; + I watched the singer with delight,— + But mark what changed my joy to fright,— + When that bird sang, I gave the theme; + That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, + A brown wren was the Daniel + That pierced my trance its drift to tell, + Knew my quarrel, how and why, + Published it to lake and sky, + Told every word and syllable + In his flippant chirping babble, + All my wrath and all my shames, + Nay, God is witness, gave the names. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0199" id="link2H_4_0199"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WATERFALL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A patch of meadow upland + Reached by a mile of road, + Soothed by the voice of waters, + With birds and flowers bestowed. + + Hither I come for strength + Which well it can supply, + For Love draws might from terrene force + And potencies of sky. + + The tremulous battery Earth + Responds to the touch of man; + It thrills to the antipodes, + From Boston to Japan. + + The planets' child the planet knows + And to his joy replies; + To the lark's trill unfolds the rose, + Clouds flush their gayest dyes. + + When Ali prayed and loved + Where Syrian waters roll, + Upward the ninth heaven thrilled and moved; + At the tread of the jubilant soul. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0200" id="link2H_4_0200"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WALDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In my garden three ways meet, + Thrice the spot is blest; + Hermit-thrush comes there to build, + Carrier-doves to nest. + + There broad-armed oaks, the copses' maze, + The cold sea-wind detain; + Here sultry Summer overstays + When Autumn chills the plain. + + Self-sown my stately garden grows; + The winds and wind-blown seed, + Cold April rain and colder snows + My hedges plant and feed. + + From mountains far and valleys near + The harvests sown to-day + Thrive in all weathers without fear,— + Wild planters, plant away! + + In cities high the careful crowds + Of woe-worn mortals darkling go, + But in these sunny solitudes + My quiet roses blow. + + Methought the sky looked scornful down + On all was base in man, + And airy tongues did taunt the town, + 'Achieve our peace who can!' + + What need I holier dew + Than Walden's haunted wave, + Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, + Steeped in each forest cave? + + [If Thought unlock her mysteries, + If Friendship on me smile, + I walk in marble galleries, + I talk with kings the while.] + + How drearily in College hall + The Doctor stretched the hours, + But in each pause we heard the call + Of robins out of doors. + + The air is wise, the wind thinks well, + And all through which it blows, + If plants or brain, if egg or shell, + Or bird or biped knows; + + And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed, + I heed how wears the day; + We must not halt while fiercely speed + The spans of life away. + + What boots it here of Thebes or Rome + Or lands of Eastern day? + In forests I am still at home + And there I cannot stray. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0201" id="link2H_4_0201"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ENCHANTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the deep heart of man a poet dwells + Who all the day of life his summer story tells; + Scatters on every eye dust of his spells, + Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells + Wins the believing child with wondrous tales; + Touches a cheek with colors of romance, + And crowds a history into a glance; + Gives beauty to the lake and fountain, + Spies oversea the fires of the mountain; + When thrushes ope their throat, 't is he that sings, + And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings. + The little Shakspeare in the maiden's heart + Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart; + Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed + And gives persuasion to a gentle deed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0202" id="link2H_4_0202"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Six thankful weeks,—and let it be + A meter of prosperity,— + In my coat I bore this book, + And seldom therein could I look, + For I had too much to think, + Heaven and earth to eat and drink. + Is he hapless who can spare + In his plenty things so rare? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0203" id="link2H_4_0203"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RICHES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Have ye seen the caterpillar + Foully warking in his nest? + 'T is the poor man getting siller, + Without cleanness, without rest. + + Have ye seen the butterfly + In braw claithing drest? + 'T is the poor man gotten rich, + In rings and painted vest. + + The poor man crawls in web of rags + And sore bested with woes. + But when he flees on riches' wings, + He laugheth at his foes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0204" id="link2H_4_0204"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHILOSOPHER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Philosophers are lined with eyes within, + And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. + In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; + Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, + He feels it, introverts his learned eye + To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + + His mother died,—the only friend he had,— + Some tears escaped, but his philosophy + Couched like a cat sat watching close behind + And throttled all his passion. Is't not like + That devil-spider that devours her mate + Scarce freed from her embraces? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0205" id="link2H_4_0205"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTELLECT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gravely it broods apart on joy, + And, truth to tell, amused by pain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0206" id="link2H_4_0206"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIMITS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who knows this or that? + Hark in the wall to the rat: + Since the world was, he has gnawed; + Of his wisdom, of his fraud + What dost thou know? + In the wretched little beast + Is life and heart, + Child and parent, + Not without relation + To fruitful field and sun and moon. + What art thou? His wicked eye + Is cruel to thy cruelty. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0207" id="link2H_4_0207"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; + So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0208" id="link2H_4_0208"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (AFTER TALIESSIN) + + The heavy blue chain + Of the boundless main + Didst thou, just man, endure. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have an arrow that will find its mark, + A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0209" id="link2H_4_0209"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI — POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1823-1834 +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0210" id="link2H_4_0210"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BELL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I love thy music, mellow bell, + I love thine iron chime, + To life or death, to heaven or hell, + Which calls the sons of Time. + + Thy voice upon the deep + The home-bound sea-boy hails, + It charms his cares to sleep, + It cheers him as he sails. + + To house of God and heavenly joys + Thy summons called our sires, + And good men thought thy sacred voice + Disarmed the thunder's fires. + + And soon thy music, sad death-bell, + Shall lift its notes once more, + And mix my requiem with the wind + That sweeps my native shore. + + 1823. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0211" id="link2H_4_0211"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THOUGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not poor, but I am proud, + Of one inalienable right, + Above the envy of the crowd,— + Thought's holy light. + + Better it is than gems or gold, + And oh! it cannot die, + But thought will glow when the sun grows cold, + And mix with Deity. + + BOSTON, 1823. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0212" id="link2H_4_0212"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PRAYER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When success exalts thy lot, + God for thy virtue lays a plot: + And all thy life is for thy own, + Then for mankind's instruction shown; + And though thy knees were never bent, + To Heaven thy hourly prayers are sent, + And whether formed for good or ill, + Are registered and answered still. + + 1826 [?]. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I bear in youth the sad infirmities + That use to undo the limb and sense of age; + It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss + Which lit my onward way with bright presage, + And my unserviceable limbs forego. + The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, + On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, + And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. + Yet I think on them in the silent night, + Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, + And the firm soul does the pale train defy + Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. + Please God, I'll wrap me in mine innocence, + And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence. + + CAMBRIDGE, 1827. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly + Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, + God hath a select family of sons + Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone, + Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one + By constant service to, that inward law, + Is weaving the sublime proportions + Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, + The riches of a spotless memory, + The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got + By searching of a clear and loving eye + That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, + And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day + To seal the marriage of these minds with thine, + Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be + The salt of all the elements, world of the world. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0213" id="link2H_4_0213"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO-DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide + The resurrection of departed pride. + Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep, + Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep— + Late in the world,—too late perchance for fame, + Just late enough to reap abundant blame,— + I choose a novel theme, a bold abuse + Of critic charters, an unlaurelled Muse. + + Old mouldy men and books and names and lands + Disgust my reason and defile my hands. + I had as lief respect an ancient shoe, + As love old things <i>for age</i>, and hate the new. + I spurn the Past, my mind disdains its nod, + Nor kneels in homage to so mean a God. + I laugh at those who, while they gape and gaze, + The bald antiquity of China praise. + Youth is (whatever cynic tubs pretend) + The fault that boys and nations soonest mend. + + 1824. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0214" id="link2H_4_0214"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FAME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah Fate, cannot a man + Be wise without a beard? + East, West, from Beer to Dan, + Say, was it never heard + That wisdom might in youth be gotten, + Or wit be ripe before 't was rotten? + + He pays too high a price + For knowledge and for fame + Who sells his sinews to be wise, + His teeth and bones to buy a name, + And crawls through life a paralytic + To earn the praise of bard and critic. + + Were it not better done, + To dine and sleep through forty years; + Be loved by few; be feared by none; + Laugh life away; have wine for tears; + And take the mortal leap undaunted, + Content that all we asked was granted? + + But Fate will not permit + The seed of gods to die, + Nor suffer sense to win from wit + Its guerdon in the sky, + Nor let us hide, whate'er our pleasure, + The world's light underneath a measure. + + Go then, sad youth, and shine; + Go, sacrifice to Fame; + Put youth, joy, health upon the shrine, + And life to fan the flame; + Being for Seeming bravely barter + And die to Fame a happy martyr. + + 1824. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0215" id="link2H_4_0215"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SUMMONS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A sterner errand to the silken troop + Has quenched the uneasy blush that warmed my cheek; + I am commissioned in my day of joy + To leave my woods and streams and the sweet sloth + Of prayer and song that were my dear delight, + To leave the rudeness of my woodland life, + Sweet twilight walks and midnight solitude + And kind acquaintance with the morning stars + And the glad hey-day of my household hours, + The innocent mirth which sweetens daily bread, + Railing in love to those who rail again, + By mind's industry sharpening the love of life— + Books, Muses, Study, fireside, friends and love, + I loved ye with true love, so fare ye well! + + I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by + And the impatient years that trod on it + Taught me new lessons in the lore of life. + I've learned the sum of that sad history + All woman-born do know, that hoped-for days, + Days that come dancing on fraught with delights, + Dash our blown hopes as they limp heavily by. + But I, the bantling of a country Muse, + Abandon all those toys with speed to obey + The King whose meek ambassador I go. + + 1826. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0216" id="link2H_4_0216"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RIVER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And I behold once more + My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, + The same blue wonder that my infant eye + Admired, sage doubting whence the traveller came,— + Whence brought his sunny bubbles ere he washed + The fragrant flag-roots in my father's fields, + And where thereafter in the world he went. + Look, here he is, unaltered, save that now + He hath broke his banks and flooded all the vales + With his redundant waves. + Here is the rock where, yet a simple child, + I caught with bended pin my earliest fish, + Much triumphing,—and these the fields + Over whose flowers I chased the butterfly + A blooming hunter of a fairy fine. + And hark! where overhead the ancient crows + Hold their sour conversation in the sky:— + These are the same, but I am not the same, + But wiser than I was, and wise enough + Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost + Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb; + These trees and stones are audible to me, + These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, + I understand their faery syllables, + And all their sad significance. The wind, + That rustles down the well-known forest road— + It hath a sound more eloquent than speech. + The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind, + All of them utter sounds of 'monishment + And grave parental love. + They are not of our race, they seem to say, + And yet have knowledge of our moral race, + And somewhat of majestic sympathy, + Something of pity for the puny clay, + That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind. + I feel as I were welcome to these trees + After long months of weary wandering, + Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs; + They know me as their son, for side by side, + They were coeval with my ancestors, + Adorned with them my country's primitive times, + And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. + + CONCORD, June, 1827. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0217" id="link2H_4_0217"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD HOPE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The cup of life is not so shallow + That we have drained the best, + That all the wine at once we swallow + And lees make all the rest. + + Maids of as soft a bloom shall marry + As Hymen yet hath blessed, + And fairer forms are in the quarry + Than Phidias released. + + 1827. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0218" id="link2H_4_0218"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LINES TO ELLEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tell me, maiden, dost thou use + Thyself thro' Nature to diffuse? + All the angles of the coast + Were tenanted by thy sweet ghost, + Bore thy colors every flower, + Thine each leaf and berry bore; + All wore thy badges and thy favors + In their scent or in their savors, + Every moth with painted wing, + Every bird in carolling, + The wood-boughs with thy manners waved, + The rocks uphold thy name engraved, + The sod throbbed friendly to my feet, + And the sweet air with thee was sweet. + The saffron cloud that floated warm + Studied thy motion, took thy form, + And in his airy road benign + Recalled thy skill in bold design, + Or seemed to use his privilege + To gaze o'er the horizon's edge, + To search where now thy beauty glowed, + Or made what other purlieus proud. + + 1829. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0219" id="link2H_4_0219"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECURITY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though her eye seek other forms + And a glad delight below, + Yet the love the world that warms + Bids for me her bosom glow. + + She must love me till she find + Another heart as large and true. + Her soul is frank as the ocean wind, + And the world has only two. + + If Nature hold another heart + That knows a purer flame than me, + I too therein could challenge part + And learn of love a new degree. + + 1829. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dull uncertain brain, + But gifted yet to know + That God has cherubim who go + Singing an immortal strain, + Immortal here below. + I know the mighty bards, + I listen when they sing, + And now I know + The secret store + Which these explore + When they with torch of genius pierce + The tenfold clouds that cover + The riches of the universe + From God's adoring lover. + And if to me it is not given + To fetch one ingot thence + Of the unfading gold of Heaven + His merchants may dispense, + Yet well I know the royal mine, + And know the sparkle of its ore, + Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine— + Explored they teach us to explore. + + 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0220" id="link2H_4_0220"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why fear to die + And let thy body lie + Under the flowers of June, + Thy body food + For the ground-worms' brood + And thy grave smiled on by the visiting moon. + + Amid great Nature's halls + Girt in by mountain walls + And washed with waterfalls + It would please me to die, + Where every wind that swept my tomb + Goes loaded with a free perfume + Dealt out with a God's charity. + + I should like to die in sweets, + A hill's leaves for winding-sheets, + And the searching sun to see + That I am laid with decency. + And the commissioned wind to sing + His mighty psalm from fall to spring + And annual tunes commemorate + Of Nature's child the common fate. + + WILLIAMSTOWN, VERMONT, 1 June, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0221" id="link2H_4_0221"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A LETTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear brother, would you know the life, + Please God, that I would lead? + On the first wheels that quit this weary town + Over yon western bridges I would ride + And with a cheerful benison forsake + Each street and spire and roof, incontinent. + Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, + Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm, + Amid the mountain counties, Hants, Franklin, Berks, + Where down the rock ravine a river roars, + Even from a brook, and where old woods + Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground + With their centennial wrecks. + Find me a slope where I can feel the sun + And mark the rising of the early stars. + There will I bring my books,—my household gods, + The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell + In the sweet odor of her memory. + Then in the uncouth solitude unlock + My stock of art, plant dials in the grass, + Hang in the air a bright thermometer + And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun. + + CHARDON ST., BOSTON, 1831. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Day by day returns + The everlasting sun, + Replenishing material urns + With God's unspared donation; + But the day of day, + The orb within the mind, + Creating fair and good alway, + Shines not as once it shined. + + * * * + + Vast the realm of Being is, + In the waste one nook is his; + Whatsoever hap befalls + In his vision's narrow walls + He is here to testify. + + 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0222" id="link2H_4_0222"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is in all the sons of men + A love that in the spirit dwells, + That panteth after things unseen, + And tidings of the future tells. + + And God hath built his altar here + To keep this fire of faith alive, + And sent his priests in holy fear + To speak the truth—for truth to strive. + + And hither come the pensive train + Of rich and poor, of young and old, + Of ardent youth untouched by pain, + Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold. + + They seek a friend to speak the word + Already trembling on their tongue, + To touch with prophet's hand the chord + Which God in human hearts hath strung. + + To speak the plain reproof of sin + That sounded in the soul before, + And bid you let the angels in + That knock at meek contrition's door. + + A friend to lift the curtain up + That hides from man the mortal goal, + And with glad thoughts of faith and hope + Surprise the exulting soul. + + Sole source of light and hope assured, + O touch thy servant's lips with power, + So shall he speak to us the word + Thyself dost give forever more. + + June, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0223" id="link2H_4_0223"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SELF-RELIANCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henceforth, please God, forever I forego + The yoke of men's opinions. I will be + Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God. + I find him in the bottom of my heart, + I hear continually his voice therein. + + * * * + + The little needle always knows the North, + The little bird remembereth his note, + And this wise Seer within me never errs. + I never taught it what it teaches me; + I only follow, when I act aright. + + October 9, 1832. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And when I am entombed in my place, + Be it remembered of a single man, + He never, though he dearly loved his race, + For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship + Of minds that each can stand against the world + By its own meek and incorruptible will? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The days pass over me + And I am still the same; + The aroma of my life is gone + With the flower with which it came. + + 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0224" id="link2H_4_0224"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN IN NAPLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are what we are made; each following day + Is the Creator of our human mould + Not less than was the first; the all-wise God + Gilds a few points in every several life, + And as each flower upon the fresh hillside, + And every colored petal of each flower, + Is sketched and dyed, each with a new design, + Its spot of purple, and its streak of brown, + So each man's life shall have its proper lights, + And a few joys, a few peculiar charms, + For him round in the melancholy hours + And reconcile him to the common days. + Not many men see beauty in the fogs + Of close low pine-woods in a river town; + Yet unto me not morn's magnificence, + Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve, + Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls + Of rich men blazing hospitable light, + Nor wit, nor eloquence,—no, nor even the song + Of any woman that is now alive,— + Hath such a soul, such divine influence, + Such resurrection of the happy past, + As is to me when I behold the morn + Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath + Peep the blue violets out of the black loam, + Pathetic silent poets that sing to me + Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife. + + March, 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0225" id="link2H_4_0225"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN AT ROME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;— + Besides, you need not be alone; the soul + Shall have society of its own rank. + Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, + The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome, + Shall flock to you and tarry by your side, + And comfort you with their high company. + Virtue alone is sweet society, + It keeps the key to all heroic hearts, + And opens you a welcome in them all. + You must be like them if you desire them, + Scorn trifles and embrace a better aim + Than wine or sleep or praise; + Hunt knowledge as the lover wooes a maid, + And ever in the strife of your own thoughts + Obey the nobler impulse; that is Rome: + That shall command a senate to your side; + For there is no might in the universe + That can contend with love. It reigns forever. + Wait then, sad friend, wait in majestic peace + The hour of heaven. Generously trust + Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand + That until now has put his world in fee + To thee. He watches for thee still. His love + Broods over thee, and as God lives in heaven, + However long thou walkest solitary, + The hour of heaven shall come, the man appear. + + 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0226" id="link2H_4_0226"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WEBSTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1831 + + Let Webster's lofty face + Ever on thousands shine, + A beacon set that Freedom's race + Might gather omens from that radiant sign. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0227" id="link2H_4_0227"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1834 + + Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave + For living brows; ill fits them to receive: + And yet, if virtue abrogate the law, + One portrait—fact or fancy—we may draw; + A form which Nature cast in the heroic mould + Of them who rescued liberty of old; + He, when the rising storm of party roared, + Brought his great forehead to the council board, + There, while hot heads perplexed with fears the state, + Calm as the morn the manly patriot sate; + Seemed, when at last his clarion accents broke, + As if the conscience of the country spoke. + Not on its base Monadnoc surer stood, + Than he to common sense and common good: + No mimic; from his breast his counsel drew, + Believed the eloquent was aye the true; + He bridged the gulf from th' alway good and wise + To that within the vision of small eyes. + Self-centred; when he launched the genuine word + It shook or captivated all who heard, + Ran from his mouth to mountains and the sea, + And burned in noble hearts proverb and prophecy. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1854 + + Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? + He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, <i>For Sale</i>. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0228" id="link2H_4_0228"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INDEX OF FIRST LINES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dull uncertain brain + "A new commandment," said the smiling Muse + A patch of meadow upland + A queen rejoices in her peers + A ruddy drop of manly blood + A score of airy miles will smooth + A sterner errand to the silken troop + A subtle chain of countless rings + A train of gay and clouded days + Ah Fate, cannot a man + Ah, not to me those dreams belong! + All day the waves assailed the rock + Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too + Already blushes on thy cheek + And as the light divides the dark + And Ellen, when the graybeard years + And I behold once more + And when I am entombed in my place + Announced by all the trumpets of the sky + Around the man who seeks a noble end + Ascending thorough just degrees + Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' + As sings the pine-tree in the wind + As sunbeams stream through liberal space + As the drop feeds its fated flower + Atom from atom yawns as far + + Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly + Because I was content with these poor fields + Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Blooms the laurel which belongs + Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold + Bring me wine, but wine which never grew + Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint + Burly, dozing humble-bee + But God said + But if thou do thy best + But Nature whistled with all her winds + But never yet the man was found + But over all his crowning grace + By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave + By the rude bridge that arched the flood + By thoughts I lead + + Can rules or tutors educate + Cast the bantling on the rocks + Coin the day dawn into lines + + Dark flower of Cheshire garden + Darlings of children and of bard + Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring + Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days + Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more + Day by day returns + Day! hast thou two faces + Dear brother, would you know the life + Dearest, where thy shadow falls + Deep in the man sits fast his fate + + Each spot where tulips prank their state + Each the herald is who wrote + Easy to match what others do + Ere he was born, the stars of fate + Ever the Poet <i>from</i> the land + Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Every day brings a ship + Every thought is public + + Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well + Farewell, ye lofty spires + Flow, flow the waves hated + For art, for music over-thrilled + For every God + For Fancy's gift + For Genius made his cabin wide + For joy and beauty planted it + For Nature, true and like in every place + For thought, and not praise + For what need I of book or priest + Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread + Freedom all winged expands + Friends to me are frozen wine + From fall to spring, the russet acorn + From high to higher forces + From the stores of eldest matter + From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate + + Gifts of one who loved me + Give all to love + Give me truths + Give to barrows, trays and pans + Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower + Go speed the stars of Thought + Go thou to thy learned task + Gold and iron are good + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home + Grace, Beauty and Caprice + Gravely it broods apart on joy + + Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Have ye seen the caterpillar + He could condense cerulean ether + He lives not who can refuse me + He planted where the deluge ploughed + He took the color of his vest + He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare + He who has no hands + Hear what British Merlin sung + Henceforth, please God, forever I forego + Her passions the shy violet + Her planted eye to-day controls + High was her heart, and yet was well inclined + Him strong Genius urged to roam + His instant thought a poet spoke + His tongue was framed to music + Hold of the Maker, not the Made + How much, preventing God, how much I owe + + I, Alphonso, live and learn + I am not poor but I am proud + I am not wiser for my age + I am the Muse who sung alway + I bear in youth and sad infirmities + I cannot spare water or wine + I do not count the hours I spend + I framed his tongue to music + I grieve that better souls than mine + I have an arrow that will find its mark + I have no brothers and no peers + I have trod this path a hundred times + I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea + I hung my verses in the wind + I left my dreary page and sallied forth + I like a church; I like a cowl + I love thy music, mellow bell + I mourn upon this battle-field + I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide + I reached the middle of the mount + I said to heaven that glowed above + I see all human wits + I serve you not, if you I follow + If bright the sun, he tarries + If curses be the wage of love + If I could put my woods in song + If my darling should depart + If the red slayer think he slays + Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave + Illusions like the tints of pearl + Illusion works impenetrable + In an age of fops and toys + In countless upward-striving waves + In Farsistan the violet spreads + In many forms we try + In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes + In my garden three ways meet + In the chamber, on the stairs + In the deep heart of man a poet dwells + In the suburb, in the town + In the turbulent beauty + In Walden wood the chickadee + It fell in the ancient periods + It is time to be old + + Knows he who tills this lonely field + + Let me go where'er I will + Let Webster's lofty face + Like vaulters in a circus round + Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown + Long I followed happy guides + Love asks nought his brother cannot give + Love on his errand bound to go + Love scatters oil + Low and mournful be the strain + + Man was made of social earth + Many things the garden shows + May be true what I had heard + Mine and yours + Mine are the night and morning + Mortal mixed of middle clay + + Nature centres into balls + Never did sculptor's dream unfold + Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall + No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low + Not in their houses stand the stars + + October woods wherein + O fair and stately maid, whose eyes + O pity that I pause! + O tenderly the haughty day + O well for the fortunate soul + O what are heroes, prophets, men + Of all wit's uses the main one + Of Merlin wise I learned a song + Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship + On a mound an Arab lay + On bravely through the sunshine and the showers + On prince or bride no diamond stone + On two days it steads not to run from thy grave + Once I wished I might rehearse + One musician is sure + Our eyeless bark sails free + Over his head were the maple buds + + Pale genius roves alone + Parks and ponds are good by day + Philosophers are lined with eyes within + Power that by obedience grows + Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + + Quit the hut, frequent the palace + + Right upward on the road of fame + Roomy Eternity + Roving, roving, as it seems + Ruby wine is drunk by knaves + + Samson stark at Dagon's knee + See yonder leafless trees against the sky + Seek not the spirit, if it hide + Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants + Set not thy foot on graves + She is gamesome and good + She paints with white and red the moors + She walked in flowers around my field + Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen + Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift + Six thankful weeks,—and let it be + Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue + Soft and softlier hold me, friends! + Solar insect on the wing + Some of your hurts you have cured + Space is ample, east and west + Spin the ball! I reel, I burn + Such another peerless queen + Sudden gusts came full of meaning + + Tell me, maiden, dost thou use + Tell men what they knew before + Test of the poet is knowledge of love + Thanks to the morning light + That book is good + That each should in his house abide + That you are fair or wise is vain + The April winds are magical + The archangel Hope + The Asmodean feat is mine + The atom displaces all atoms beside + The bard and mystic held me for their own + The beggar begs by God's command + The brave Empedocles, defying fools + The brook sings on, but sings in vain + The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth + The cup of life is not so shallow + The days pass over me + The debt is paid + The gale that wrecked you on the sand + The green grass is bowing + The heavy blue chain + The living Heaven thy prayers respect + The lords of life, the lords of life + The low December vault in June be lifted high + Theme no poet gladly sung + The mountain and the squirrel + The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded + The patient Pan + The prosperous and beautiful + The rhyme of the poet + The rocky nook with hilltops three + The rules to men made evident + The sea is the road of the bold + The sense of the world is short + The solid, solid universe + The South-wind brings + The Sphinx is drowsy + The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin + The sun goes down, and with him takes + The sun set, but set not his hope + The tongue is prone to lose the way + The water understands + The wings of Time are black and white + The word of the Lord by night + The yesterday doth never smile + Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes + There are beggars in Iran and Araby + There is in all the sons of men + There is no great and no small + There is no architect + They brought me rubies from the mine + They put their finger on their lips + They say, through patience, chalk + Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + Think me not unkind and rude + This is he, who, felled by foes + This shining moment is an edifice + Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls + Thou shalt make thy house + Though her eyes seek other forms + Though loath to grieve + Though love repine and reason chafe + Thousand minstrels woke within me + Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down + Thy summer voice, Musketaquit + Thy trivial harp will never please + To and fro the Genius flies + To clothe the fiery thought + To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem + Trees in groves + True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet + Try the might the Muse affords + Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene + Two well-assorted travellers use + + Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art + + Venus, when her son was lost + + Was never form and never face + We are what we are made; each following day + We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends + We love the venerable house + Well and wisely said the Greek + What all the books of ages paint, I have + What care I, so they stand the same + What central flowing forces, say + When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + When I was born + When success exalts thy lot + When the pine tosses its cones + When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port + Who gave thee, O Beauty + Who knows this or that? 375. + Who saw the hid beginnings + Who shall tell what did befall + Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? + Why fear to die + Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year + Why should I keep holiday + Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? + Winters know + Wise and polite,—and if I drew + Wisp and meteor nightly falling + With beams December planets dart + With the key of the secret he marches faster + Would you know what joy is hid + + Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken + You shall not be overbold + You shall not love me for what daily spends + Your picture smiles as first it smiled + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0229" id="link2H_4_0229"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INDEX OF TITLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal + divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the + subdivisions of long poems.] + + A.H. + [Greek: Adakryn nemontai Aiona] + Adirondacs, The + Alcuin, From + Ali Ben Abu Taleb, From + Alphonso of Castile + Amulet, The + Apology, The + April + Art + Artist + Astraea + + Bacchus + Beauty + Bell, The + Berrying + Birds + Blight + Boéce, Étienne de la + Bohemian Hymn, The + Borrowing + Boston + Boston Hymn, read in Music Hall, January 1, 1863 + Botanist + Brahma + + Caritas + Casella + Celestial Love, The + Channing, W.H., Ode inscribed to + Character + Chartist's Complaint, The + Circles + Climacteric + Compensation + Concord Hymn + Concord, Ode Sung in the Town Hall, July 4, 1857 + Cosmos + Culture + Cupido + + Daemonic Love, The + Day's Ration, The + Days + Destiny + Dirge + + Each and All + Earth, The + Earth-Song + ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + Ellen, To + Ellen, Lines to + Enchanter, The + Epitaph + Eros + Eva, To + Excelsior + Exile, The + Experience + + Fable + Fame + Fate + Flute, The + Forbearance + Forerunners + Forester + Fragments on Nature and Life + Fragments on the Poet and the Poetic Gift + Freedom + Friendship + + Garden, The + Garden, My + Gardener + Gifts + Give all to Love + Good-bye + Good Hope + Grace + Guy + + Hafiz + Hafiz, From + Hamatreya + Harp, The + Heavens, The + Heri, Cras, Hodie + Hermione + Heroism + Holidays + Horoscope + House, The + Humble-Bee, The + Hush! + Hymn + Hymn sung at the Second Church, Boston, at the Ordination of + Rev. Chandler Robbins + + Ibn Jemin, From + Illusions + Informing Spirit, The + In Memoriam + Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love + Initial Love, The + Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War + Insight + Intellect + + J.W., To + + Last Farewell, The + Letter, A + Letters + Life + Limits + Lines by Ellen Louise Tucker + Lines to Ellen + Love + Love and Thought + + Maia + Maiden Speech of the Aeolian Harp + Manners + MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + May-Day + Memory + Merlin + Merlin's Song + Merops + Miracle, The + Mithridates + Monadnoc + Monadnoc from afar + Mountain Grave, A + Music + Musketaquid + My Garden + + Nahant + Nature + Nature in Leasts + Nemesis + Night in June + Northman + Nun's Aspiration, The + + October + Ode, inscribed to W.H. Channing + Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857 + Ode to Beauty + Omar Khayyam, From + Orator + + Pan + Park, The + Past, The + Pericles + Peter's Field + Phi Beta Kappa Poem, From the + Philosopher + POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + Poet + Poet, The + Politics + Power + Prayer + Problem, The + Promise + Prudence + + QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + Rex + Rhea, To + Rhodora, The + Riches + River, The + Romany Girl, The + Rubies + + S.H. + Saadi + Sacrifice + Seashore + Security + September + Shah, To the + Shakspeare + Snow-Storm, The + Solution + Song of Nature + Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan + Sonnet of Michel Angelo Buonarotti + Sphinx, The + Spiritual Laws + Summons, The + Sunrise + Sursum Corda + "Suum Cuique" + + Terminus + Test, The + Thine Eyes still Shined + Thought + Threnody + Titmouse, The + To-Day + To Ellen at the South + To Ellen + To Eva + To J.W. + To Rhea + To the Shah + Transition + Translations + Two Rivers + + Una + Unity + Uriel + + Violet, The + Visit, The + Voluntaries + + Waldeinsamkeit + Walden + Walk, The + Water + Waterfall, The + Wealth + Webster + Woodnotes + World-Soul, The + Worship + Written at Rome, 1883 + Written in a Volume of Goethe + Written in Naples, March, 1883 + + Xenophanes +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |