Classic Poem

I SAT myself down by a lone mountain stream
Which hurried away to the sea;
Around me the rude rocks of ages were strewn,
Above me an old willow tree.

The waters came dashing adown the rude rock,
Till exhausted and foaming they fell;
And bubbled a moment within the dark pool,
Then gladly sped on through the dell.

I gazed on the tumult, the strife, and the foam,
And the bubbles that pass'd like a dream;
In aerial beauty they bounded along,
In the light of the laughing sunbeam.

I thought of existence, its tumult and strife,
Of time's rapid, turbulent stream;
And long, long I ponder'd the meaning of life,
When thus a voice spoke in my dream:

“Launch'd upon an unknown river,
Hurrying to an unknown sea,
Without compass, sail, or rudder,
What a hapless crew are we!

“Deeps, infinite deeps, before us,
Ruin riding in the wind,
Cloudy curtains hanging o'er us,
And eternities behind.

“Onward, onward, ever onward,
Full in sight of that dread sea;
Not a beacon-light to cheer us,
Not a single star. Ah, me!”

An old man approach'd, as the voice died away,
And sadly he look'd in my face;
He lean'd on his staff, and he shook his locks grey,
As he hopelessly talk'd of our race:

“With light and with darkness we're compass'd about;
The clearer our vision, the darker our doubt.
The knot of our destiny will not undo;
The bars of our prison we cannot get through.

“We grasp at lov'd shadows—while grasping they're flown—
The fruit of our knowledge is still the unknown;
We scale the blue summits, for which we have long'd,
To sit down and sigh for the regions beyond.

“A longing still haunts us wherever we go,
And knowledge increases the weight of our woe;
And all that we cling to is fleeting as breath,
And life is the valley and shadow of death.”

He rose to depart, and he heav'd a deep sigh,
While o'er us there hung a great cloud;
But deep in its bosom there beam'd a bright eye,
And a sweet voice kept chanting aloud:

“The heav'ns will not unveil themselves,
Yet mortal eyes may see
In mortal frames the budding flow'rs
Of immortality.”

The cloud slowly vanish'd, and where it had hung
There stretch'd out a beautiful blue,
And e'en from the rude rocks a welcome was rung,
As an angel's form rose to my view.

Her face had the sadness that's sister to joy—
It was not the sadness of thought;
Her voice was sweet music, without earth's alloy,
And these were the tidings she brought:

“Life's the great mystery, deeper than death—
Infinite history, woven of breath.
Death but deciphers the pages of time;
Mortal, do thou make their meaning sublime.”

The bright blue all faded, and quickly I found
I still was alone by the stream;
The willows above me, the mountains around,
Yet scarce could believe all a dream.