Classic Poem

I

Onward we float along the way
Like straws upon a rapid river.
Changeth the weather every day;
So change our human feelings ever —
Yes, most of them thus change,
And have a wider range,
But there are those no time can sever.

Withers not the sun, my love!
What of thee is mortal now
That was framed in worlds above;
Thy full-thoughted arched brow,
And the light of those clear eyes,
Death and change and Time defies.

The immortal there hath place,
Gladly sits upon thy frame,
Lurketh in thy sunny face,
In a wildness none can tame.

II

Away! the night is dark the drear;
Loud howls the storm, the clouds uproar,
And chill as broken love the atmosphere.
Away! thee, Nature, I can woo no more:
Thou art at war, and naught at rest;
With thee I never can be blest.

Thy whirling seas my feelings jar,
Thy weeping winds and twilight cold;
Thy ways my seekings idly mar,
And I was in my youth-time old.
Thou didst set a glowing stone
In a golden belt alone, —
To me thou sayest: " This treasure thine —
It is the richest thing of mine. "

III

I stood amazed; my blood o'erran
Its usual channels, till my veins
Would burst; I was again a man;
Ending was here of all those pains —
Those cold, chill pains that crept about my way,
Those hidden shadows in the light of Day.
What! no more of them to see?
Chains were off and roaming free?

Then cried I to the corners of the Earth:
" It cannot be — ye mock at my despair!
For I was destined from my earliest birth
To be beloved by nothing sweet or fair:
And I have made my bed, and now am heir
To all that blackens and has naught of mirth.

" I tell you, sudden fates which come to me,
Ye are not faithful! Hear: my mother died
Before I clasped her, and that parent's knee
Me never knew — my tears she never dried;
But with the unknown upward then I grew,
Far from all that which was to me most true. "

That early life was bitter oft;
And like a flower whose roots are dry
I withered; for my feelings soft
Were by my brothers passed by.
Storm-wind fell on me,
Dark clouds lowered on me;
Many ghosts swept trembling past;
Cold looks in my eyes they cast.

IV

Older I grew then, but I was not more
Joy's child than in those earlier, other hours;
It was the same unyielding penance o'er.
My crown was not of thorns, but withered flowers,

Dry buds, and half-blown roses dry with dust;
Thorns had been glorious, glorious by their side,
For in their frantic pain there rises trust,
While these are phantoms of what may have died.
I see ye still around me;
Why is it said? To sadden?
That there is some joy for me?
Ah! think you me to gladden?

Sang the voice sweetly: " We say what we say;
There is joy in thy cup, there is sun in thy day. "
I groaned aloud: " Alas, they mock!
Stood other form in other years, —
Her song, — then came the lightning's shock,
And the sharp fire of those wild tears;
I carry them within, on many biers.
I stand like one who came to sing with those
That sang so sweetly, all of love and joy;
Their voices yet! — while I am hung with woes;
Life comes to me, yet comes but to destroy. "

V

Then spoke the Spirit of the Earth,
Her gentle voice like gliding water's song:
" None from my loins have ever birth
But they to joy and love belong;
I faithful am, and give to thee
Blessings great — and give them free.
" I have woven shrouds of air
In a loom of hurrying light,
For the trees which blossoms bear,
And gilded them with sheets of bright:
I fall upon the grass like love's first kiss,
I make the golden flies and their fine bliss.

" I paint the hedgerows in the lane,
And clover white and red the pathways bear;
I laugh aloud in sudden gusts of rain
To see the Ocean lash himself in air;
I throw smooth shells and weeds along the beach,
And pour the curling waves far o'er the glassy reach;
Swing birds' nests in the elms, and shake cool moss
Along the aged beams, and hide their loss.

" The very broad rough stones I gladden, too —
Some willing seeds I drop along their sides,
Nourish the generous plant with freshening dew,
Till there where all was waste true joy abides.
The peaks of aged mountains, with my care,
Smile in the red of glowing morn, elate;
I bind the caverns of the sea with hair
Glossy and long, and rich as king's estate;
I polish the green ice, and gleam the wall
With whitening frost, and leaf the brown trees tall.

VI

" Thee not alone I leave — far more
Weave I for thee than for the air;
Thou art of greater worth than the sea-shore,
And yet for it how much do I prepare!
I love thee better than the trees —
Yet I give them sun and breeze;
More than rivers thou to me,
More I shall be giving thee;
Tears of thine I 'll dry fore'er,
To thee joys and blisses bear.

" Believe thy Mother for her worth
(And thou art a son of Earth).
Thou hadst many years of woe;
Life was many times thy foe;
But the stars have looked from where
Hang their sparklets in the air,
And their faith is pledged to me
That they shall give joy to thee. "

VII

It came upon me in a sudden thrill,
It stood before me — 't was a thing of life.
The thoughts rushed out; I had not form nor will;
I was in hurrying trance, yet felt no strife.
I laughed aloud — Death had crept back awhile;
I looked abroad — the sunlight seemed to smile.
Joy, joy! was now the song,
Like a torrent crowding strong
To the endless Sea along.
She stood before me in that veil of form
(The stars' first light, dropt from an urn of air);
Within her eyes there melted sunlight warm,
Which its soft heat did with the moonbeam share;
The gushing of her smile was like a stream
Which, when all round was crisped with feathery snow,
Went surging through the drear its liquid dream,
In sweet dissolved style, as angels know.
The spell that dwelt within each faintest word
Was Love — the first my eager ear had heard.
She stood before me, and her life sank through
My withering heart as doth the piercing dew,
That sinks with quivering tenderness within
The moss-rose breast — till it to ope doth win.

VIII

'T was so — 't was thine! Earth, thou wert true!
I kneel — thy grateful child, I kneel;
Thy full forgiveness for my sins I sue.
O Mother! learn thy son can think and feel.
Mother dear! wilt pardon one
Who loved not the generous sun,
Nor thy seasons loved to hear
Chanting to the busy year;
Thee neglected, shut his heart —
In thy being had no part!
Mother! now I list thy song
In this autumn eve along,
As thy chill airs round the day,
Leaving me my time to pray.

Mother dear! the day must come
When thy child shall make his home —
My long, last home — 'mid the grass
Over which thy warm hands pass.
Ah me! then do let me lie
Gently on thy breast to die!

I know my prayers will reach thine ear —
Thou art with me while I ask;
Nor thy child refuse to hear,
Who would learn his little task.
Let me take my part with thee
In the gray clouds, or the light
Laugh with thee upon the sea,
Or idle on the land by night;
In the trees will I with thee —
In the flowers, like any bee.

I feel it shall be so; we were not born
To sink our finer feelings in the dust;
Far better to the grave with feelings torn —
So in our step strides Truth and honest trust
In the great love of things — than to be slaves
To forms — whose ringing side each stroke we give
Stamps with a hollower void; — yes, to our graves
Hurrying or e' er we in the heavens' look live
Strangers to our best hopes, and fearing men,
Yea, fearing death — and to be born again.