Classic Poem

WRITTEN IN APRIL.

A GAIN , imperial star! thy mystic beams
Pour their wild splendors on my waking dreams,
Piercing the blue depths of the vernal night
With opal shafts and flames of ruby light;
Filling the air with melodies, that come
Mournful and sweet, from the dark, sapphire dome, —
Weird sounds, that make the cheek with wonder pale,
As their wild symphonies o'ersweep the gale.
For, in that gorgeous world, I fondly deem,
Dwells the freed soul of one whose earthly dream
Was full of beauty, majesty and wo;
One who, in that pure realm of thine, doth grow
Into a power serene, — a solemn joy,
Undimmed by earthly sorrow or alloy;
Sphered far above the dread, phantasmal gloom, —
The penal tortures of that living tomb
Wherein his earth-life languished; — who shall tell
The drear enchantments of that Dantean hell!

" Was it not Fate, whose earthly name is Sorrow, "
That bade him, with prophetic soul, to borrow
From all the stars that fleck night's purple dome,
Thee, bright Arcturus! for his Eden home: —
Was it not Fate, whose name in Heaven above,
Is Truth and Goodness and unchanging Love, —
Was it not Fate, that bade him turn to thee
As the bright regent of his destiny? —
For when thine orb passed from the lengthening gloom
Of autumn nights, a morning-star to bloom
Beside Aurora's eastern gates of pearl,
He passed from earth, his weary wings to furl
In the cool vales of Heaven: thence, through yon sea
Of starry isles, to hold his course to thee.

Now, when in April's cloudless nights, I turn
To where thy pharos mid the stars doth burn, —
A glorious cynosure, — I read in thee
The rune of Virgil's golden augury;
And deem that o'er thy seas of silver calm
Floats the far perfume of the Eden palm.