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+Project Gutenberg's Across the Sea and Other Poems., by Thomas S. Chard
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Across the Sea and Other Poems.
+
+Author: Thomas S. Chard
+
+Release Date: June 13, 2006 [EBook #18574]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE SEA AND OTHER POEMS. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The University of Michigan's Making of America
+online book collection (http://www.hti.umich.edu/m/moa/).
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE SEA
+
+
+And Other Poems.
+
+
+
+By
+
+Thomas S. Chard.
+
+
+
+
+Now just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in
+after them,
+and behold the City shone like the sun; the streets also were paved
+with gold,
+and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads,
+palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.
+ * * * And after that they shut up the gates; which,
+when I had seen, I wished myself among them.
+
+--Pilgrim's Progress.
+
+
+
+Chicago:
+
+Jansen, McClurg & Company.
+
+
+1875.
+
+
+
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
+
+
+JANSEN, McCLURG & CO.,
+
+
+In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The poem whose name gives title to this little volume, was published
+in outline in the winter of 1869, and now appears for the first time
+as completed. _The sea,_ as a picture of life, has been celebrated by
+the poetic thought of all ages, and the author will therefore hardly
+hope to offer much that is new in the following verses. His only
+excuse for so worn a theme is, that the world still loves the
+picture, and that each generation can, at best, but reset the old
+jewels of the past.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+Across the Sea,
+
+The Seven Sleepers,
+
+A Legend of St. John,
+
+The Blessed Vale.
+
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE SEA.
+
+Inscribed to
+
+David Swing.
+
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE SEA.
+
+
+
+I.--CHILDHOOD.
+
+
+Ah! who can speak that country whence I fled?
+None but a lover may its beauty know,
+None but a poet can its rapture sing;
+And e'en his muse, upborne on Fancy's wing,
+Will grieve o'er beauties still unnoticed,
+O'er raptures language is too poor to show.
+
+Fore'er remains the land where children dwell,
+Earth's fairest mem'ry and its Palestine;
+Tho' years have passed since on my forehead there
+Were graven lines of weariness and care,
+Still on the silver string of memory oft I tell
+The golden beads of joy that once were mine.
+
+Dear distant Land of Childhood! God doth know
+That I have longed to dwell in thee again,
+As when by care unvexed, by doubt undriven,
+With eyes as blue, and heart as pure, as Heaven.
+Sweet are the days of childhood, glad the flow
+Of unhurt joyous life in every vein.
+
+It may not be, those sunny hours are flown,
+And loud "The Fortune" knocks at every gate;
+Still move we on the path where none returns,
+Where wait afar, or near, our funeral urns,
+That mystic path, whose ways are all unknown,
+For only life's surprises make us great.
+
+Yet still I dream, as o'er the swelling deep,
+I gaze upon the far enchanted shore,
+Through whose retreats the memory-brooding sea
+Rolls in deep monotone continually.
+Waves of soft melody, which fall asleep
+In rosy glens that I may see no more.
+
+O holy music of the flowing sea,
+Heard never but at eve, when shifts and gleams
+On waves afar the light of joy still ours,
+Because remembered still, thy voice o'erpowers
+My soul with pensiveness, sweet reverie
+And memory of half-forgotten dreams.
+
+Twas early, Sea of Life, I loved thee well,
+And mused betimes upon thy strand, till rolled
+Ashore from Daylight's wreck her gilded spars,
+And Night, in thee, a chandelier of stars
+Had hung, to light the grots where mermen dwell,
+The deep-sea grots of amethyst and gold.
+
+Beyond thee, when thou wert of gentle mood,
+And held with all the weary winds a truce,
+Upon the other shore I could descry
+Where, faintly outlined in the western sky,
+A mystic rainbow-girdled Headland stood,
+Whose silver sandals thou dost rise to loose.
+
+Far on the verge, where sky and waters meet,
+The Headland's hazy outline I could trace;
+High in the blue of Heaven its summit lay;
+There sleeps the twilight, till the crystal Day,
+Waked by the song of birds from slumber sweet,
+Beams on the Headland fair with lovelit face.
+
+For I have ne'er believed the Headland's brow
+Is bathed forever in the noon-day glare;
+Dearer to me the quiet hour of eve,
+And when at last this passion world I leave,
+May I, sometimes, behold the stars, as now,--
+In the sweet gloaming--tho' "no night is there."
+
+One early morn, ere earth had waked from sleep,
+From the calm shadow of my tent I stole;
+I could not rest, and as I sought the shore,
+To tell my longings to the ocean o'er,
+A warning Voice, uprising from the deep,
+Murmured in plaintive rhythm to my soul.
+
+
+
+THE VOICE.
+
+
+Why wouldst thou go? the way is long and drear;
+Thou mayst be happy where thou art, but stern
+The fortune is that rules the watery waste.
+He who doth wisdom love will not make haste
+To change a peaceful way for one of fear,
+And he who leaves this shore can ne'er return.
+
+The warrior waves that lie in peace asleep
+Upon the stilly bosom of the main,
+Will don their plumes of snow when night is by,
+And rise in battle 'gainst the stormy sky;
+Where wilt thou hide thee from the angry deep,
+Till it has sunk to silvery dreams again?
+
+
+
+THE ANSWER.
+
+
+I may escape, for others have before,
+Why should I fear to view the storm-cloud's form?
+I answered to the Voice. In One I trust,
+Upon whose blazing path the clouds are dust,
+Why should I cower 'neath the whirlwind's roar?
+God's chariot is the whirlwind and the storm.
+
+The thunder of the deep will be my psalm,
+And e'en the crested wave, that totters o'er
+My way, will seem an emerald arbor fair,
+With portals of bluebells and lilies rare;
+For Fancy knoweth not of storm or calm,
+It dreameth but of beauty evermore.
+
+
+
+THE VOICE.
+
+
+Yet 'tis a weary way, the Voice replied,
+A trackless way of danger and of care;
+And from thy cheek, ere tho the Headland find,
+The rose will yield its petals to the wind;
+And from thy heart an adverse cruel tide
+Will steal the dream of hope, and leave--despair.
+
+Consider too, O youth, Earth is a sphere,
+And he who journeys to the verge of age,
+But comes at eve to where he left at morn,
+But views at last the hearth where he was born,
+But learns, the bright horizon ne'er draws near
+The circle climbers of life's pilgrimage.
+
+Think well, again, thou mayst forever part
+From pleasure, seeking pleasure o'er the main.
+The good of life--such is the human lot--
+Seems only good to those who have it not.
+Joy, smiling, opes the portals of the heart.
+But when he enters, Lo! his name is Pain.
+
+Nothing but rest can satisfy thy thirst
+For happiness. Hast thou on land or sea
+Found what was not a weariness at last,
+And shall to-morrow cheat thee as the past?
+The glowing bubbles of the future burst,
+Touched by the finger-tip of Memory.
+
+Thou art a poet, yet perchance may find
+The birds will carol more delicious lays;
+Thy waves of song may melt in melody,
+Yet softer is the music of the sea.
+Thou canst not rhyme so sweetly as the wind,
+And nature is too subtile for thy phrase.
+
+But leaning on the muffled harp of thought,
+Here sweet for thee will sigh the summer wind,
+And dreamful will the rhythm of the deep
+Upon the shore of silver fall asleep.
+Nor wilt thou miss what thou has never sought,
+Nor seek what men at last have failed to find.
+
+Yet if thou wilt not heed our counsel sage,
+If still thou dost our warning cry despise,
+Yon barge will bear thee from these happy shores.
+Behold its silken sail, its crew, the oars,
+And thou its prow, thro' calm and tempest rage,
+Mayst guide in peace at last--if thou art wise.
+
+Thus speaks the Voice to every child, but yet
+Youth evermore to Hope will loyal be.
+Impatiently I listened to the strain,
+Then turned me to the Headland once again,
+Which in the early morning light was set
+An emerald in a golden ring of sea.
+
+
+
+II.--YOUTH.
+
+
+The slow long wave crept up the ocean marge,
+To steal the silver sparkle of the sand;
+Then lapsing from the shore, I scarce could feel
+Its soft pulsations underneath the keel,
+As I sat patiently within the barge,
+Until the breeze should bear me from the land.
+
+And as I waited, lo! the morning sun
+Rose golden on the misty eastern sky,
+And through the rosy dells the sunbeams bright
+Stole from the flowers the jewels of the night;
+But yet no seaward zephyr had begun
+To fill the canvas drooping listlessly.
+
+I saw an aged man upon the shore,
+There was a kindly smile upon his face
+As thus he spake to me--"Here have I dwelt
+For centuries, yet I have never felt
+The winds of heaven upon my forehead, nor
+Will they e'er visit this spell-haunted place.
+
+Your gaily-painted barge will wait in vain
+For favoring winds to fill its silken sail.
+If you would ever leave these drowsy shores
+Your crew must sweep the waters from their oars.
+To win the Blessed Headland o'er the main,
+But tireless strength and effort will avail."
+
+I gazed adown the barge; the silent men
+Toyed with their oars, awaiting my command;
+The first was "Courage"--quick to see and dare,
+And next came "Patience," he as ready e'er
+To calm an angry brow to peace, and then
+Came "Justice"--"Knowledge" sat at his right hand.
+
+I held the rudder. No hand but mine own
+Could guide the mystic barge across the sea.
+But in the bow stood "Faith," whose vision keen
+Discerns what mortal eye hath never seen,
+And when a mist across the deep is blown,
+Sendeth sweet messages of hope to me.
+
+Why tarry ye, O men? the way is long
+To yonder hazy Headland's wave-worn base.
+We wait in vain for favoring winds to blow,
+'Tis yours to pull the oars. Row, bravely, row,
+Keep even stroke, ye merry hearts, with song,
+And lead the swift sea-birds a winning race.
+
+The willing oarsmen heard the words, and bent
+Them to the toil; but "Knowledge" had not heard,
+And still he dreamed upon his trailing oar,
+Until the barge had rounded to the shore
+We scarce had left. In vain the labor spent.
+The old man smiled again. The swift sea-bird
+
+Such rivalry would never fear, said he,
+"Knowledge" must pull with "Courage"; "Justice," too,
+Must draw his stroke with "Patience," else your barge,
+Despite your strength, will never leave the marge,
+But still in weary revolutions be
+A vanity of vanities to you.
+
+These words to you in parting. O beware
+In seeking heaven, lest you despise the earth;
+Heaven is both what we are and where we go,
+And we are heaven-builders here below;
+Alike we take it and we find it there,
+And heaven is worth to us what we are worth.
+
+God hath the earth to heaven in marriage given,
+See how the ocean yieldeth tenderly
+The penciled shadow of the morning bars
+Whereon, like notes of music, rest the stars.
+Ah! listen, for the azure dome of heaven
+Is echoing now the music of the sea.
+
+Love wisely then the earth, and you shall love
+The Holy City where the angels dwell.
+The gentle light of love will never bring
+The circling moth upon his dusty wing.
+No thief will steal, no rust corrode above,
+Nor in your heart--if love be there. Farewell.
+
+
+
+III.--MANHOOD.
+
+
+So to their oars my boatmen, cheerily,
+Bent once again, and then, with steady stroke,
+They drew upon the waters till the shore
+Grew lower in the distance, and no more
+Thro' the gray mist the mentor I could see,
+But oft I thought upon the words he spoke.
+
+And oft, O wise Experience, have I found
+The lesson true you taught to me that day.
+_No progress but by toil, and there must be
+In heart and mind a vital unity._
+Our days are else in vain, and ne'er will bound
+The "Barge of Time" upon the heavenly way.
+
+But soon the ripple of an adverse tide,--
+Whose darkling bitter waters seemed to stay
+The prow,--twined like a sea-weed growth the oars;
+A tide that hies forever from the shores
+I sought, and with its soft caresses, wide
+And far, bears hapless wanderers away.
+
+Yet gallant are the boats that drift along;
+Proud are the hearts that float where flows the tide.
+The youth whose heated fancy sees afar
+The promise of ambition's streaming star,
+And he who follows with a careless song
+Some godless passion he has deified.
+
+The man of curling lip and brow of scorn,
+The worshiper of reason and of self,
+The atheist, wanton, and the giddy maid,
+The faith-betrayer and the love-betrayed;
+Self-righteous pharisees, who would adorn
+Or hide with pious garb their love of pelf.
+
+The poet with a poem on his lip,
+The writer with an essay in his heart,
+The statesman with a law within his brain,
+The merchant princes busy with their gain;
+Dreamers who reck not that their barges slip
+Upon a tide from which so few may part.
+
+Ah, tide that hurries to the Land of Fear,
+The arms are feeble, and perplexed the will,
+And the hearts childish that must stem thy flow,
+And it is sweet to rest, and hard to row.
+I, too, have drifted on thy waters drear,
+And but for grace divine were drifting still.
+
+     *     *     *     *     *     *
+
+Life's sea, at best, is but a lonely sea,
+Yet thrice from angry winds and waters rude
+The mem'ry of their bitter feud has flown
+On the soft pinions of a gentle tone.
+Thrice heavenly messengers have come to me
+To break the bondage of my solitude.
+
+And first, my mother's love, warm, tender, true,
+To guide me o'er the billowy deep, was given;
+E'en now I view her barge's silvery trail,
+And faint, in distance, mark her snowy sail
+Bloom like a lily on the water blue.
+'Tis but a mirage, she is long in heaven.
+
+O how my heart has hungered for her smile,
+When life has pressed me with a weight of cares,
+Yet I have thought, wherever I have been,
+Some gentle power was leading me from sin
+To virtue's sweeter, nobler way the while.
+It was the power, dear mother, of thy prayers.
+
+One morning when, like Cana's Lord, the sun
+Had changed the waiting water into wine,
+Sped o'er the rosy tide a seraph bright,
+Within a craft of pearl and crystal light,
+And still she sped until our ways were one,
+And I was hers, for aye, and she was mine.
+
+Once, when my tears were falling on the wake
+Which far and near my wayward path betrayed,
+Shone there upon me in that fateful hour,
+A Holy Being, clothed in light and power.
+And with Him came th' eternal morning's break.
+How sweet His words, 'Tis I, be not afraid.
+
+Thus to the soul of man there come alone
+Three sacred ones upon the Sea of Life;
+All others are as distant sails that fly
+Far from the ken, and so forever by:
+And he is blest whose faithful heart hath known
+And loved the name of Savior, Mother, Wife.
+
+Thus o'er the Sea of Life my way I take,
+Not waveless have its waters been to me,
+For I have known, in many a fearful hour,
+The weight and fury of the tempest's power;
+But mercy e'er the sable clouds doth break
+And set the prisoned light of heaven free.
+
+And oft, O sea, thy troubled waters cease,
+Save when they smile to hear the breeze at prayer;
+Thy calm so deep that he who glideth by
+May wonder which is sea and which is sky;
+So full thou art of stars, so sweet thy peace,
+We seem in heaven while on thy bosom fair.
+
+
+
+IV.--AGE.
+
+
+My boat is old, for I have journeyed far,
+But still the Headland seems a weary way;
+My boatmen, too, are old, and oft an oar
+Slips from a feeble hand, but yet the shore
+Upon whose forehead beams the evening star,
+Is nearer still and nearer every day.
+
+What matters that my boatmen now are old,
+Why should I grieve that with a feeble hand
+I hold the swaying helm? The waves no more
+Rise o'er the prow to keep me from the shore,
+The silken sail at last the breezes hold,
+The tide of Love sets toward the Heavenly Land.
+
+O flowing tide that in our autumn time
+Ebbs from the world, and bears us on thy breast,
+I would to every human soul 'twere given
+To drift upon thy silver sheen to heaven;
+To fall asleep, and dream, and wake--SUBLIME,
+Within the crystal harbor of The Blest.
+
+Dear are thy urging waters, starry tide,
+Forever gently flowing heavenward;
+Thine every dimple is a token sweet
+That rested there some beauteous angel's feet,
+Thy sheen, a radiant carpet for the Bride,
+Laid to the wedding Temple of her Lord.
+
+Soon o'er the wave my boat no more will ride,
+The music of the dipping oar will cease,
+And through the glimmering golden mist will fall,
+From the calm Headland's height, a loving call,
+_Come hither, child, forevermore abide_
+_Within thy Father's House--at Home--in Peace._
+
+
+
+L'ENVOY.
+
+
+Hark! there is music on the lovelit sea.
+Music, sweet music falls upon mine ear,
+Soft as the sigh of June, when die the hours
+Crimsoned with sunset and the blush of flowers.
+Dost thou not hear it? O it seems to me
+No mother's cradle-song was e'er so dear.
+
+The music ceases. From the eastern sky,
+Lo! the umbrageous clouds, whose gloomy frown
+Shadowed my youth, drift westward, dark no more,
+They float illumined o'er the heavenly shore.
+Behold, they part! and thro' their portals high
+The gleams of endless glory shimmer down.
+
+Farewell, O Deep, nor be thy solemn bell
+Jarred as I go by grief's tumultuous blast.
+Farewell, ye winds, for me ye ne'er again
+Will fret the bosom of the restless main.
+To thee, O Barge of Time, a long farewell,
+Sweet voices call me. I am home at last.
+
+Give ear, O Earth, the honeyed air again
+Swells with the rapture of the heavenly shore;
+And I am singing as I upward pass
+Upon the "sea of mingled fire and glass,"
+To Him who Loved and gave Himself for Men,
+Be Glory, Honor, Power, Forevermore.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.
+
+Inscribed to
+
+Robert Collyer.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.
+
+
+
+We seem within a pleasant vale to dwell,
+Whose boundary knows the early summer's spell,
+And where, in leafy tabernacle, June
+Hears not the mandate of the waning moon.
+The river bank and hill-side of the vale,
+And orchard fruitage streaked with morning pale,
+Grow rosy with the rosy summer hours.
+Green is the dewy turf and gay with flowers.
+The morning sky is azure; we behold
+The white clouds sleeping on the eastern hill,
+At eve--a fleecy flock--they follow still
+The shepherd sun upon his path of gold.
+Sweet is the air, and peace is everywhere:
+Save that in distant skies beyond our time
+We mark the vivid shafts of lightning fly,
+Shot from the twanging bow of thunder where
+The sky is bright with pale auroral light,
+Framed in by darkness; there we view
+The stern death-struggling of armed hosts--
+The smoke of burning cities--martyr fires--
+Towers toppling to ruin, palaces,
+Vast columned temples, and triumphal arch,
+Fair hanging gardens, walls magnificent,
+Resolved to dust by time--as summer's sun
+Resolves again a fleecy cloud to mist.
+Yet sometimes even here the spectral light
+Broadens and brightens into sunny day,
+And the soft winds (the sweeter for the war
+Of elements,) blow thence to us Legends,--
+Traditions fair of noble hearts as true,
+Of honor pure, of love as sacred--deep--
+Of valor great--of homes as fair and dear,
+As fresher, better modern days have known.
+I love the Legend of the Sleepers Seven,
+Which comes from days so near the Manger--Cross,
+It seems to me a tale of Holy Writ.
+
+When Decius sate upon the Roman Throne,
+And made his empire red with Christian blood,
+Seven noble youths who dwelt at Ephesus
+(Noble in birth and every Christian grace)
+Refused to heed the Imperial will and bow
+Themselves in worship to the pagan gods,
+Preferring the reproach of Christ, to all
+The wealth and honor of the Court of Rome;
+And thus before the Royal Tyrant (who
+It chanced was then at Ephesus) the youths
+Bore witness to the faith more dear than life.
+"The living God who made the earth and sky,
+And dwells in Temples never made by hands,
+Hath set within the Heaven of Heavens His Throne;
+He holdeth in His hands a thousand spheres,
+And hath created all that is create;
+Jehovah infinite, eternal, good,
+And wise, we humbly worship, serve, adore,
+We cannot bow, O monarch, to thy gods."
+
+Behind a smile the Emperor hid his rage,
+And bade the youths consider well, and count
+The gain or loss which might to them befall.
+The Emperor's favor was a life of gain,
+His anger roused was like a scorching fire.
+And thus he sent them from his presence out,
+To think upon his words, till he again,
+And soon, should come in power to Ephesus.
+
+So passed they from his presence, but the world
+Loves not the men who are unloved of kings.
+The silversmiths that made the idol shrines,
+Raised, as of old, a tumult, and the youths
+Fled secretly, and sought a refuge safe
+Among the mountain heights near Ephesus;
+And there within a hidden cave they dwelt,
+While Malchus (one of them, but lately come
+To Ephesus) brought food to them by night.
+
+Ye deem their lives were sad? Oh they were blest,
+On wings of prayer the hours went lightly by;
+And oft, when day was spent, toward eventide
+Came one into their midst, who brake to them
+Celestial bread for their deep hungering.
+Till, lo! again with martial pomp and pride,
+The haughty Decius came to Ephesus,
+And by the whisper of a faithless spy,
+He learnt the guarded secret of the cave,
+'Gainst which a massive wall the tyrant built,
+And so the hiding-place became a tomb.
+
+"They are not dead but sleeping," for the Lord
+Hath sent His angel who hath touched their eyes,
+And sweetly as a child at evening, dreams
+Upon his mother's bosom, lulled to rest
+By the soft pulsings of her gentle heart,
+So rested well the brave Ephesian youths,--
+Guarded by angels, while celestial light
+Filled the lone cave and made its rocky bounds
+Invisible; and thus they might have seen,
+(But that their eyes were closed in heavenly sleep)
+The bright stars drifting on the ethereal tide,--
+The moon at quarter, like a golden boat
+Rock onward to its changing destiny--
+The great sun, rising from the under-world,
+Blanch all the planets with his fiery rays.
+Beneath them were the blue Aegean sea,
+Miletus, and the proud Ephesus, where
+Rose the world's miracle of marble white,
+The Temple of the goddess worshiped there.
+Day follows night and night the busy day;
+The generations come and go apace,
+The child hath left his toys, and in the whirl
+Of years is now a grandsire by the hearth,
+And now hath passed away and is forgot.
+Two hundred years are fled, when, lo! one day
+A mason finds the moss-grown wall of stone
+Built by the cruel Decius, strong and high,
+And knowing not it is a sepulchre,
+He quarries it to build a palace wall.
+And so the light of day beams in again
+Upon the youths, who wake to grateful prayer
+That blessed day has come so soon again,
+(For all their sleep seemed but an hour's delight)
+And Malchus, cautiously descends the mount,
+To buy their bread in pagan Ephesus.
+Yet much he fears the tyrant Decius
+And the rough buffets of the Roman Guard.
+When, lo! descending to the city's gate,
+He sees a golden cross thereon upreared;
+And passing through the portals in a daze,
+He wanders on in wonder through the ways.
+Where are the images of all the gods--
+The silver semblance of Diana fair?
+He sees them not, but everywhere he views
+The sacred symbol of the Savior's death,
+And hears the name of Christ on every tongue.
+At last he enters in where bread is sold,
+And gives in payment there a silver coin.
+"It is an ancient coin," the baker said,
+"And bears the image of old Decius."
+"Nay you but jest," said Malchus, "where is he?"
+"Dead these two hundred years," the man replied,
+And, deeming that the youth had lost his mind,
+He sent him to the Bishop of the town.
+The Bishop heard the marvelous story through,
+And being deeply learned in history,
+Recalled the memory of the noble seven
+And their sad fate in days of Decius.
+Then coming to the rocky mountain cave,
+(Led up by Malchus all the winding way,)
+He witnessed all the truth of what was told.
+Nor lacked he faith in God, for he believed
+All wondrous things with Him were possible.
+But ere by letter he could tell the tale
+Unto the Christian Emperor, the youths
+Sank into blessed dreams again, and waked
+Within a crystal city where was peace.
+
+     *     *     *     *     *     *
+
+I think we all are dreamers like the seven;
+The morning rises from her silver throne
+And smiles upon the hours we call our own.
+The minutes brim like drops of golden wine
+O'er Life's o'erflowing cup; we see the shine
+Of perfect day on every path we scan;
+And Fame's fair vaulted Temple on the span
+Of rainbow arches is upheld--and gleams
+In every future of our boyhood dreams.
+But while we follow every promise sweet,
+With buoyant hearts and lightly springing feet,
+To where some joy untasted yet awaits,--
+We hear the solemn sound of closing gates;
+And driven by Care, we leave the City bright,
+To mount with aching feet some rocky height
+Where Time dispels the hopes that Fancy gave,
+And all life's prospect narrows to a cave.
+Less sweet we sleep than did the sleepers seven,
+Our dreams are shadows--theirs were bright with Heaven.
+Haply to every soul there comes an hour
+When Sorrow's hand smites in the wall with power,
+Or Love hath breathed a whisper soft and low,
+And wrought the miracle of Jericho.
+
+And thus we come again or soon or late,
+To pass once more the mystic City's gate.
+Our hearts grow tender as we view again
+The dear remembered vistas of the plain,
+And as we draw the sun-lit portals near,
+The air is sweet to us with vesper prayer;
+While o'er the gate our lifted eyes behold
+The sacred sign--a cross of shining gold.
+
+
+
+
+
+A LEGEND OF ST. JOHN.
+
+Inscribed to
+
+C. C. Bonney.
+
+
+
+
+
+A LEGEND OF ST. JOHN.
+
+
+
+Then Jesus answered unto Peter, "If I will
+That he shall tarry till I come again,
+What is it unto thee?" He spake of John.
+
+In Russia there still lives a legend sweet,
+Repeated by the grandsire to the child,--
+A dear old legend, which has lived so long,
+And held an honored place so many years
+By ancient firesides long since turned to dust--
+A legend which doth mind us so of eve,
+Of lengthened shadows, wonder-opened eyes,
+And groups which listened ere they went their way,
+We well might wish the story may be true,--
+Of him who once had lain on Jesus' breast.
+This is the tale, as I remember it.
+
+When John to Patmos' isle was banished,
+He saw and heard unutterable things.
+The "Revelation" is a shadow poor,
+Of his most marvelous experience.
+But human language never can convey,
+And human intellect can never span,
+Things not of earth. When from his beauteous dream
+Unwillingly the loved disciple woke,
+His heart was burning with new zeal for God
+And therefore with more tender love for man.
+Down the steep mountain side, with ready feet,
+To preach the gospel to the Greeks, he ran,
+To tell of that fair city with its gates
+Of gleaming pearl, and streets of shining gold,
+Built for the people of the gracious Lord.
+But to the Greeks his words were foolishness.
+The Stoics cried, "What doth this babbler say?
+He seems a setter forth of unknown gods!"
+And thus they closed their ears against his words
+Of beauty, and went on their careless way.
+
+'Twere long to tell how patiently he toiled;
+How some believed, and some refused to hear;
+Of all the cities that he visited;
+And how his words were always, "God is love;"
+How he was saved by miracle from death,
+When cast into a pot of boiling oil;
+How in a weary dungeon he was thrown,
+Yet counted it but gain, for in the dark
+The angels dwelt with him and made it light.
+At last he was released. Perhaps his face--
+So full of holy love, so angel-sweet,
+He seemed Christ's brother--moved his cruel foes
+To pity; and they bade him go in peace.
+So from the rusty iron gates he passed,
+With a bowed form, and hair as white as snow.
+
+John traversed Europe for the Lord. At last
+His pilgrim feet pressed Russia. Through its coast
+He preached with holy fervor, as was meet,
+The message of the Lord to erring men.
+But everywhere with cold indifference,
+Or anger, or contempt, his words were met:
+Until, at last, with bleeding feet, he came
+To bleak Siberia. A churlish crowd
+Received his message with a stupid stare;
+Which, as he gently told them of their need
+Of Him who came to save them from their sins,
+Changed to a glare of rage. So curst were they,
+They would have slain him; but on his calm face
+There fell a light supernal, and he passed
+In safety through their midst, and came at last
+To where the Arctic laves with icy wave
+The chill Siberian coast, and there a boat
+Filled with strong men received him, and they plied
+Their oars, and like a swift-winged bird, sped north.
+
+Within the iceberg barricade which girds
+Impregnably the Northern Pole, 'tis said
+There is a Beulah Land surpassing fair,
+With beaming sky and soft delicious air,
+Rich with the perfume sweet of blossoms rare.
+Its trees have never turned to russet tinge;
+The girdling waves, warm as the summer, fringe
+Its golden sands with lace of foam, and die
+In soft accord with bird-song melody.
+No cruel heats nor chilling blasts invade,
+But the sweet quietude of twilight shade
+Brings ever to the mind a holy calm.
+And there, 'tis said, the Great Apostle waits
+Until the end of all things shall draw near,
+When he will come again, and preach to men
+With the old words of love, and move their hearts
+To penitence, and they will captive yield
+To the sweet words of truth, and give their lives
+With heartiness to deeds of charity.
+
+Come, blest Apostle! from the icy North
+Haste thy departure, for the world is faint
+And weary for the music of thy feet.
+The earth is growing old. Two thousand years
+Have fled since thou and Jesus walked with men.
+Two thousand years of bitterness of creeds;
+Two thousand years of selfishness and crime.
+
+Come thou! our clouded hearts to gently win
+From chilling unbelief, from fear and sin.
+Come, as to evening comes the silver moon;
+As comes the south-wind on the wings of June:
+From the far south the waves of summer roll,
+Come from the North, thou summer of the soul!
+O, how our eyes are lifted to behold
+The rising of the star whose beams of gold
+Will usher in, with Bethlehem songs above,
+The day of Love--sweet universal Love.
+Thou art its priest, O son of Zebedee,
+And we are waiting--waiting still for thee.
+Why tarry yet thy footsteps from afar
+Thou gentler John the Baptist? May thy star
+The herald of _The Christ_ uprising shine,
+The harbinger of love--of Love Divine.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BLESSED VALE.
+
+Inscribed to
+
+H. N. Powers.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BLESSED VALE.
+
+
+PRELUDE.
+
+
+Why should we journey to a distant star?
+For lo! we dwell within the Land of Dream;
+The walls of jasper round about us gleam,
+Beneath our feet the golden pavements are.
+
+It is not far, O brothers, to the light;
+Unheard by us the crystal waters flow,--
+By every path the leaves of healing grow;
+We dream of pinions when we need but SIGHT.
+
+     *     *     *     *     *     *
+
+There is a Blessed Vale of beauty rare,
+Alas! I cannot find it when I would;
+Yet sometimes, in a meditative mood,
+My feet have wandered, how I know not, there.
+
+On devious paths unseen by mortal eyes,
+O'er pleasant fields or shadowy by-ways drear,
+I draw in joy, perchance in sadness, near
+To where in peace the Blessed Valley lies.
+
+Sometimes when thro' the sapphire arch of morn
+The tides of light and bird-song mingled roll,
+A softer radiance falls upon my soul,
+A sweeter music to mine ear is borne.
+
+When day's last color like a star-tipt sail
+Has vanished o'er the western sea of night,
+The air grows mellow with a rosy light,--
+And lo! I stand within the mystic vale.
+
+And sometimes on the city's crowded street,
+Where avarice meets in never-ending fray,
+The roar of trafficking dies far away,
+And round me blooms the Blessed Valley sweet.
+
+Bright dreams of Heaven! alas, how soon ye fail,
+And leave me to the empty ways of earth,
+Whose treasures seem to me of little worth,
+Since I have stood within the Blessed Vale.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Across the Sea and Other Poems., by Thomas S. Chard
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #18574 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18574)