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diff --git a/12843-0.txt b/12843-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a043fe --- /dev/null +++ b/12843-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12262 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 *** + +POEMS + +BY + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + +_HOUSEHOLD EDITION_ + + +1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, +published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:-- + +"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 Others, +mostly of an early date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of +their personal and private nature.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. + + [1] _Selected Poems_: Little Classic Edition. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the _Poems_, 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 _Poems_, and "Nemesis," +"Una," "Love and Thought" and "Merlin's Songs," from the _May-Day_ +volume, have been restored. To the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. +Emerson printed as "Elements" in _May-Day_, 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 _Dial_, 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. + +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." + +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. + +In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued +with regard to his own poems. + + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +March 12, 1904. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +POEMS + +GOOD-BYE +EACH AND ALL +THE PROBLEM +TO RHEA +THE VISIT +URIEL +THE WORLD-SOUL +THE SPHINX +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE +MITHRIDATES +TO J.W. +DESTINY +GUY +HAMATREYA +THE RHODORA +THE HUMBLE-BEE +BERRYING +THE SNOW-STORM +WOODNOTES I +WOODNOTES II +MONADNOC +FABLE +ODE +ASTRAEA +ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE +COMPENSATION +FORBEARANCE +THE PARK +FORERUNNERS +SURSUM CORDA +ODE TO BEAUTY +GIVE ALL TO LOVE +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH +TO ELLEN +TO EVA +LINES +THE VIOLET +THE AMULET +THINE EYES STILL SHINED +EROS +HERMIONE +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE +THE APOLOGY +MERLIN I +MERLIN II +BACCHUS +MEROPS +THE HOUSE +SAADI +HOLIDAYS +XENOPHANES +THE DAY'S RATION +BLIGHT +MUSKETAQUID +DIRGE +THRENODY +CONCORD HYMN + + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + +MAY-DAY +THE ADIRONDACS +BRAHMA +NEMESIS +FATE +FREEDOM +ODE +BOSTON HYMN +VOLUNTARIES +LOVE AND THOUGHT +UNA +BOSTON +LETTERS +RUBIES +MERLIN'S SONG +THE TEST +SOLUTION +HYMN +NATURE I +NATURE II +THE ROMANY GIRL +DAYS +MY GARDEN +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT +THE TITMOUSE +THE HARP +SEASHORE +SONG OF NATURE +TWO RIVERS +WALDEINSAMKEIT +TERMINUS +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION +APRIL +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP +CUPIDO +THE PAST +THE LAST FAREWELL +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + +EXPERIENCE +COMPENSATION +POLITICS +HEROISM +CHARACTER +CULTURE +FRIENDSHIP +SPIRITUAL LAWS +BEAUTY +MANNERS +ART +UNITY +WORSHIP +PRUDENCE +NATURE +THE INFORMING SPIRIT +CIRCLES +INTELLECT +GIFTS +PROMISE +CARITAS +POWER +WEALTH +ILLUSIONS + + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +QUATRAINS +TRANSLATIONS + + +APPENDIX + +THE POET +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + NATURE + LIFE +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN +GRACE +INSIGHT +PAN +MONADNOC FROM AFAR +SEPTEMBER +EROS +OCTOBER +PETER'S FIELD +MUSIC +THE WALK +COSMOS +THE MIRACLE +THE WATERFALL +WALDEN +THE ENCHANTER +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE +RICHES +PHILOSOPHER +INTELLECT +LIMITS +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR +THE EXILE + + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +THE BELL +THOUGHT +PRAYER +TO-DAY +FAME +THE SUMMONS +THE RIVER +GOOD HOPE +LINES TO ELLEN +SECURITY +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE +A LETTER +HYMN +SELF-RELIANCE +WRITTEN IN NAPLES +WRITTEN AT ROME +WEBSTER + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + * * * * * + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + "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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +January, 1899. + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +POEMS + + * * * * * + + + +GOOD-BYE + +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? + + + +EACH AND ALL + +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. + + + +THE PROBLEM + +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 _Chrysostom_, best Augustine, +And he who blent both in his line, +The younger _Golden Lips_ 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. + + + +TO RHEA + +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, +_Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup_ +_Loveth downward, and not up;_ +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. + + + +THE VISIT + +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. + + + +URIEL + +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. + + + +THE WORLD-SOUL + +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. + + + +THE SPHINX + +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." + + + +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + +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. + + + +MITHRIDATES + +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! + + + +TO J.W. + +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! + + + +DESTINY + +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. + + + +GUY + +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. + + + +HAMATREYA + +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. + + + +THE RHODORA: + +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. + + + +THE HUMBLE-BEE + +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. + + + +BERRYING + +'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?' + + + +THE SNOW-STORM + +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. + + + +WOODNOTES I + +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.' + + + +WOODNOTES II + +_As sunbeams stream through liberal space_ +_And nothing jostle or displace,_ +_So waved the pine-tree through my thought_ +_And fanned the dreams it never brought._ + +'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 _not_ 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.' + + + +MONADNOC + +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. + + + +FABLE + +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.' + + + +ODE + +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. + + + +ASTRAEA + +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. + + + +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. + + + +COMPENSATION + +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. + + + +FORBEARANCE + +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! + + + +THE PARK + +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. + + + +FORERUNNERS + +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. + + + +SURSUM CORDA + +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. + + + +ODE TO BEAUTY + +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! + + + +GIVE ALL TO LOVE + +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. + + + +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + +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.' + + + +TO ELLEN + +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. + + + +TO EVA + +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. + + + +LINES + +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. + + + +THE VIOLET + +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. + + + +THE AMULET + +Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; +Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings _since_ 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. + + + +THINE EYES STILL SHINED + +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. + + + +EROS + +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. + + + +HERMIONE + +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."' + + + +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + +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. + + + +II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + +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. + + + +III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + +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. + + + +THE APOLOGY + +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. + + + +MERLIN I + +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. + + + +MERLIN II + +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. + + + +BACCHUS + +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. + + + +MEROPS + +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. + + + +THE HOUSE + +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. + + + +SAADI + +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.' + + + +HOLIDAYS + +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. + + + +XENOPHANES + +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. + + + +THE DAY'S RATION + + 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? + + + +BLIGHT + + 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. + + + +MUSKETAQUID + +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.' + + + +DIRGE + +CONCORD, 1838 + + +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.' + + + +THRENODY + +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, _What is excellent,_ +_As God lives, is permanent;_ +_Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;_ +_Heart's love will meet thee again._ +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.' + + + +CONCORD HYMN + +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. + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + + * * * * * + + + +MAY-DAY + +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 _o-ka-lee_, +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. + + + +THE ADIRONDACS + +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: +_They_ 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. + + + +BRAHMA + +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. + + + +NEMESIS + +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. + + + +FATE + +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. + + + +FREEDOM + +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.' + + + +ODE + +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. + + + +BOSTON HYMN + +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. + + + +VOLUNTARIES + +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, _Thou must_, +The youth replies, _I can_. + +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. + +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. + + + +LOVE AND THOUGHT + +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. + + + +UNA + +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. + + + +BOSTON + +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 _Indians_ 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! + + + +LETTERS + +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. + + + +RUBIES + +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? + + + +MERLIN'S SONG + +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. + + + +THE TEST + +(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? + + + +SOLUTION + +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. + + + +HYMN + +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. + + + +NATURE I + +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. + + + +NATURE II + +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. + + + +THE ROMANY GIRL + +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. + + + +DAYS + +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. + + + +MY GARDEN + +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.' + + + +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + +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! + + + +THE TITMOUSE + +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, +_Chic-chic-a-dee-de!_ 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, _Phe-be!_ +And, in winter, _Chic-a-dee-dee!_ +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, +_Paean! Veni, vidi, vici._ + + + +THE HARP + +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. + + + +SEASHORE + +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. + + + +SONG OF NATURE + +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. + + + +TWO RIVERS + +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. + + + +WALDEINSAMKEIT + +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. + + + +TERMINUS + +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.' + + + +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + +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. + + + +APRIL + +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. + + + +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + +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. + + + +CUPIDO + +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. + + + +THE PAST + +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. + + + +THE LAST FAREWELL + +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. + + + +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + +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. + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + + * * * * * + + + +EXPERIENCE + +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!' + + + +COMPENSATION + +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. + + + +POLITICS + +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. + + + +HEROISM + +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. + + + +CHARACTER + +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. + + + +CULTURE + +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. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +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. + + + +SPIRITUAL LAWS + +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. + + + +BEAUTY + +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. + + + +MANNERS + +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. + + + +ART + +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. + + + +UNITY + +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. + + + +WORSHIP + +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. + + + +PRUDENCE + +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. + + + +NATURE + +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. + + + +THE INFORMING SPIRIT + +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. + + + +CIRCLES + +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. + + + +INTELLECT + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals;-- +The sower scatters broad his seed; +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +GIFTS + +Gifts of one who loved me,-- +'T was high time they came; +When he ceased to love me, +Time they stopped for shame. + + +PROMISE + +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. + + + +CARITAS + +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. + + + +POWER + +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. + + + +WEALTH + +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. + + + +ILLUSIONS + +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. + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + * * * * * + + + + +QUATRAINS + + + +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. + + + +HUSH! + +Every thought is public, +Every nook is wide; +Thy gossips spread each whisper, +And the gods from side to side. + + + +ORATOR + +He who has no hands +Perforce must use his tongue; +Foxes are so cunning +Because they are not strong. + + + +ARTIST + +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. + + + +POET + +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Steers his bark and trims his sail; +Right out to sea his courses stand, +New worlds to find in pinnace frail. + + + +POET + +To clothe the fiery thought +In simple words succeeds, +For still the craft of genius is +To mask a king in weeds. + + + +BOTANIST + +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. + + + +GARDENER + +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. + + + +FORESTER + +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. + + + +NORTHMAN + +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. + + + +FROM ALCUIN + +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. + + + +EXCELSIOR + +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. + + + +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. + + + +BORROWING + +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! + + + +NATURE + +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. + + + +FATE + +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. + + + +HOROSCOPE + +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. + + + +POWER + +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. + + + +CLIMACTERIC + +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. + + + +HERI, CRAS, HODIE + +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. + + + +MEMORY + +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. + + + +LOVE + +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. + + + +SACRIFICE + +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.' + + + +PERICLES + +Well and wisely said the Greek, +Be thou faithful, but not fond; +To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,-- +The Furies wait beyond. + + + +CASELLA + +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. + + + +SHAKSPEARE + +I see all human wits +Are measured but a few; +Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, +Lone as the blessed Jew. + + + +HAFIZ + +Her passions the shy violet +From Hafiz never hides; +Love-longings of the raptured bird +The bird to him confides. + + + +NATURE IN LEASTS + +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. + + + +[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. + + + + +TRANSLATIONS + + + +SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + +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. + + + +THE EXILE + +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 _for_, but for gifts? +And dark, without love, is the day; +And all that I see in Bagdat +Is the Tigris to float me away. + + + +FROM HAFIZ + +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. + + + +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. + + + +EPITAPH + +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. + + + +They say, through patience, chalk +Becomes a ruby stone; +Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood +The chalk is crimson grown. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +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. + + + +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, +Beauty sits and Music calls; +Where thy form and favor come, +All good creatures have their home. + + + +On prince or bride no diamond stone +Half so gracious ever shone, +As the light of enterprise +Beaming from a young man's eyes. + + + +FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + +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. + + + +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. + + + +FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, +And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. + + + +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. + + + +FROM IBN JEMIN + +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. + + + +THE FLUTE + +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? + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM HAFIZ + +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, +Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +Not in their houses stand the stars, +But o'er the pinnacles of thine! + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, +And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. + + + +SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + + [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. + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +APPENDIX + + * * * * * + + + +THE POET + +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. + + + +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + +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,-- +_Vae solis!_ 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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Try the might the Muse affords +And the balm of thoughtful words; +Bring music to the desolate; +Hang roses on the stony fate. + + + +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. + + + +By thoughts I lead +Bards to say what nations need; +What imports, what irks and what behooves, +Framed afar as Fates and Loves. + + + +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, +So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. + + + +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. + + + +For every God +Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. + + + +For art, for music over-thrilled, +The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. + + + +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; +Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. + + + +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. + + + +Like vaulters in a circus round +Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. + + + +For Genius made his cabin wide, +And Love led Gods therein to bide. + + + +The atom displaces all atoms beside, +And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. + + + +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. + + + +He could condense cerulean ether +Into the very best sole-leather. + + + +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, +In mercy, on one little head. + + + +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. + + + +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +Wanting the echo in my brain. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +A better voice peals through my song. + + + +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, +A bolder foot is still rewarded. + + + +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. + + + +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; +And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. + + + +The Asmodean feat is mine, +To spin my sand-heap into twine. + + + +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue, +But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. + + + + +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + + +NATURE + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Atom from atom yawns as far +As moon from earth, or star from star. + + + +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. + + + +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +To use my land to put his rainbows in. + + + +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, +And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. + + + +What central flowing forces, say, +Make up thy splendor, matchless day? + + + +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. + + + +She paints with white and red the moors +To draw the nations out of doors. + + + +A score of airy miles will smooth +Rough Monadnoc to a gem. + + + +THE EARTH + +Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar +Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. + + + +THE HEAVENS + +Wisp and meteor nightly falling, +But the Stars of God remain. + + + +TRANSITION + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +The low December vault in June be lifted high, +And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. + + + +THE GARDEN + +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. + + + +Solar insect on the wing +In the garden murmuring, +Soothing with thy summer horn +Swains by winter pinched and worn. + + + +BIRDS + +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. + + + +WATER + +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. + + + +NAHANT + +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. + + + +SUNRISE + +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. + + * * * + + + +NIGHT IN JUNE + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges +And split to flakes the crystal ledges. + + + +MAIA + +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. + + + +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. + + + +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon +To share the sunshine that so spicy is. + + + +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, +Gropes for columns strong as he; +When his ringlets grew and curled, +Groped for axle of the world. + + + +But Nature whistled with all her winds, +Did as she pleased and went her way. + + + +LIFE + + + +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. + + + +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, +For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, +So guilt not traverses his tender will. + + + +Around the man who seeks a noble end, +Not angels but divinities attend. + + + +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, +The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. + + + +This shining moment is an edifice +Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. + + + +Roomy Eternity +Casts her schemes rarely, +And an aeon allows +For each quality and part +Of the multitudinous +And many-chambered heart. + + + +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. + + + +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come +Lemurs and Lars. + + + +Such another peerless queen +Only could her mirror show. + + + +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. + + + +Of all wit's uses the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +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. + + + +She walked in flowers around my field +As June herself around the sphere. + + + +Friends to me are frozen wine; +I wait the sun on them should shine. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Tell men what they knew before; +Paint the prospect from their door. + + + +Him strong Genius urged to roam, +Stronger Custom brought him home. + + + +That each should in his house abide. +Therefore was the world so wide. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, +To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. + + + +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; +I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. + + + +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. + + + +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,-- + + * * * + + + +Ascending thorough just degrees +To a consummate holiness, +As angel blind to trespass done, +And bleaching all souls like the sun. + + + +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. + + + +REX + +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. + + + +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. + + + +SUUM CUIQUE + +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. + + + +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. + + + +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, +And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. + + + +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. + + + +The rules to men made evident +By Him who built the day, +The columns of the firmament +Not firmer based than they. + + + +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! +Time hath his work to do and we have ours. + + + +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + +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. + + + +GRACE + +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. + + + +INSIGHT + +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. + + + +PAN + +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. + + + +MONADNOC FROM AFAR + +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. + + + +SEPTEMBER + +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. + + + +EROS + +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. + + + +OCTOBER + + 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. + + + +PETER'S FIELD + +[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. + + + +MUSIC + +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. + + + +THE WALK + +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. + + + +COSMOS + +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. + + + +THE MIRACLE + +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. + + + +THE WATERFALL + +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. + + + +WALDEN + +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. + + + +THE ENCHANTER + +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. + + + +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + +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? + + + +RICHES + +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. + + + +PHILOSOPHER + +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? + + + +INTELLECT + +Gravely it broods apart on joy, +And, truth to tell, amused by pain. + + + +LIMITS + +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. + + + +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; +So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. + + + +THE EXILE + +(AFTER TALIESSIN) + +The heavy blue chain +Of the boundless main +Didst thou, just man, endure. + + + +I have an arrow that will find its mark, +A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + + * * * * * + + + + + +VI + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +1823-1834 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BELL + +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. + + + +THOUGHT + +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. + + + +PRAYER + +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 [?]. + + + +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. + + + +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. + + + +TO-DAY + +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 _for age_, 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. + + + +FAME + +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. + + + +THE SUMMONS + +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. + + + +THE RIVER + +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. + + + +GOOD HOPE + +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. + + + +LINES TO ELLEN + +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. + + + +SECURITY + +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. + + + +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. + + + +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + +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. + + + +A LETTER + +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. + + + +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. + + + +HYMN + +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. + + + +SELF-RELIANCE + +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. + + + +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. + + + +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +Of minds that each can stand against the world +By its own meek and incorruptible will? + + + +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. + + + +WRITTEN IN NAPLES + +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. + + + +WRITTEN AT ROME + +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. + + + +WEBSTER + +1831 + +Let Webster's lofty face +Ever on thousands shine, +A beacon set that Freedom's race +Might gather omens from that radiant sign. + + + +FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + +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. + + + +1854 + +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, _For Sale_. + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +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 _from_ 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 + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + +[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 + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 *** |