Love's Gallery
PICTURE FIRST.
MIRIAM .
Fair Miriam's was an ancient manse
Upon the open plain:
It looked to ocean's dim expanse,
Saw miles of meadow pasture dance
Beside the breezy main.
A porch, with woodbines overgrown,
Faced eastward to the shore;
While Autumn's sun, through foliage brown,
'Twixt leaf and lattice flickered down
To tesselate the floor.
There walked fair Miriam; — as she stept
A rustle thrilled the air;
Rare, starry gems her tresses kept,
While o'er her brow a crescent swept
The darkness of her hair.
But she too oft had paced the hall
To ponder chronicles which Time
Had given at many an interval —
Ancestral shadows on the wall
Looking their pride sublime.
And she too well had learned their look,
And wore upon her tender age
A haughtiness I could not brook —
I said, it is a glorious book,
But dared not trust the page.
PICTURE SECOND.
BERTHA .
Mild Bertha's was a home withdrawn
Beyond the city's din;
Tall Lombard trees hemmed all the lawn,
And up the long straight walks, a dawn
Of blossoms shone within.
Along the pebble paths the maid
Walked with the early hours,
With careful hands the vines arrayed,
And plucked the small intruding blade
From formal plots of flowers.
A statued Dian to the air
Bequeathed its mellow light;
She called the flying figure fair,
The forward eyes and backward hair,
And praised the marble's white.
Her pulses coursed their quiet ways,
From heart to brain controlled;
She read and praised in studied phrase
The bards whom it were sin to praise
In measured words and cold
I love the broad bright world of snow,
And every strange device
Which makes the woods a frozen show,
The rivers hard and still — but, oh,
Ne'er loved a heart of ice.
PICTURE THIRD.
MELANIE .
Within a dusky grove, where wound
Great centenarian vines,
Binding the shadows to the ground,
The dark-eyed Melanie was found
Walking between the pines.
A sudden night of hair was thrown
About her shining neck;
All woes she buried in her own —
Her sea of sadness carried down
All lighter thoughts to wreck.
The past was hers; the coming years
No golden promise brought: —
She gazed upon the midnight spheres
To read her future; and the tears
Sprang vassals to her thought.
She heard all night through her domain
The river moan below;
The whip-poor-will and owlet's strain
Filled up the measure of her pain
In streams of fancied woe.
Thus as the mournful Melanie
Swept through my waking dream,
I said: Oh soul, still wander free,
It is not written thou shalt see
Thy image in this stream.
PICTURE FOURTH.
AURELIA.
Where flamed a field of flowers — and where
Sang noisy birds and brooks —
Aurelia to the frolic air
Shook down her wanton waves of hair,
With laughter-loving looks.
Her large and lustrous eyes of blue,
Dashed with the dew of mirth,
Bequeathed to all their brilliant hue;
She saw no shades, nor even knew
She walked the heavy earth
Her ringing laughter woke the dells
When fell the autumn blight; —
She sang through all the rainy spells —
For her the snow was full of bells
Of music and delight.
She swept on her bewildering way,
By every pleasure kiss'd, —
Making a mirth of night and day;
A brook all sparkle and all spray,
Dancing itself to mist.
I love all bright and happy things,
And joys which are not brief;
All sights and sounds whence pleasure springs;
But weary of the harp whose strings
Are never tuned to grief.
PICTURE FIFTH.
AMY .
Round Amy's home were pleasant trees —
A quiet summer space
Of garden flowers and toiling bees;
Below the yellow harvest leas
Waved welcome to the place.
And Amy she was very fair,
With eyes nor dark nor blue;
And in her wavy chestnut hair
Were braided blossoms, wild and rare,
Still shimmering with the dew.
Her pride was the unconscious guise
Which to the pure is given:
Her gentle prudence broke to sighs,
And smiles were native to her eyes,
As are the stars to heaven.
Here love, said I, thy rest shall be,
Oh, weary, world-worn soul!
Long tossed upon this shifting sea,
Behold, at last the shore for thee
Displays the shining goal.
Dear Amy, lean above me now,
And smooth aside my hair,
And bless me with thy tender vow,
And kiss all memories from my brow,
Till thou alone art there.
MIRIAM .
Fair Miriam's was an ancient manse
Upon the open plain:
It looked to ocean's dim expanse,
Saw miles of meadow pasture dance
Beside the breezy main.
A porch, with woodbines overgrown,
Faced eastward to the shore;
While Autumn's sun, through foliage brown,
'Twixt leaf and lattice flickered down
To tesselate the floor.
There walked fair Miriam; — as she stept
A rustle thrilled the air;
Rare, starry gems her tresses kept,
While o'er her brow a crescent swept
The darkness of her hair.
But she too oft had paced the hall
To ponder chronicles which Time
Had given at many an interval —
Ancestral shadows on the wall
Looking their pride sublime.
And she too well had learned their look,
And wore upon her tender age
A haughtiness I could not brook —
I said, it is a glorious book,
But dared not trust the page.
PICTURE SECOND.
BERTHA .
Mild Bertha's was a home withdrawn
Beyond the city's din;
Tall Lombard trees hemmed all the lawn,
And up the long straight walks, a dawn
Of blossoms shone within.
Along the pebble paths the maid
Walked with the early hours,
With careful hands the vines arrayed,
And plucked the small intruding blade
From formal plots of flowers.
A statued Dian to the air
Bequeathed its mellow light;
She called the flying figure fair,
The forward eyes and backward hair,
And praised the marble's white.
Her pulses coursed their quiet ways,
From heart to brain controlled;
She read and praised in studied phrase
The bards whom it were sin to praise
In measured words and cold
I love the broad bright world of snow,
And every strange device
Which makes the woods a frozen show,
The rivers hard and still — but, oh,
Ne'er loved a heart of ice.
PICTURE THIRD.
MELANIE .
Within a dusky grove, where wound
Great centenarian vines,
Binding the shadows to the ground,
The dark-eyed Melanie was found
Walking between the pines.
A sudden night of hair was thrown
About her shining neck;
All woes she buried in her own —
Her sea of sadness carried down
All lighter thoughts to wreck.
The past was hers; the coming years
No golden promise brought: —
She gazed upon the midnight spheres
To read her future; and the tears
Sprang vassals to her thought.
She heard all night through her domain
The river moan below;
The whip-poor-will and owlet's strain
Filled up the measure of her pain
In streams of fancied woe.
Thus as the mournful Melanie
Swept through my waking dream,
I said: Oh soul, still wander free,
It is not written thou shalt see
Thy image in this stream.
PICTURE FOURTH.
AURELIA.
Where flamed a field of flowers — and where
Sang noisy birds and brooks —
Aurelia to the frolic air
Shook down her wanton waves of hair,
With laughter-loving looks.
Her large and lustrous eyes of blue,
Dashed with the dew of mirth,
Bequeathed to all their brilliant hue;
She saw no shades, nor even knew
She walked the heavy earth
Her ringing laughter woke the dells
When fell the autumn blight; —
She sang through all the rainy spells —
For her the snow was full of bells
Of music and delight.
She swept on her bewildering way,
By every pleasure kiss'd, —
Making a mirth of night and day;
A brook all sparkle and all spray,
Dancing itself to mist.
I love all bright and happy things,
And joys which are not brief;
All sights and sounds whence pleasure springs;
But weary of the harp whose strings
Are never tuned to grief.
PICTURE FIFTH.
AMY .
Round Amy's home were pleasant trees —
A quiet summer space
Of garden flowers and toiling bees;
Below the yellow harvest leas
Waved welcome to the place.
And Amy she was very fair,
With eyes nor dark nor blue;
And in her wavy chestnut hair
Were braided blossoms, wild and rare,
Still shimmering with the dew.
Her pride was the unconscious guise
Which to the pure is given:
Her gentle prudence broke to sighs,
And smiles were native to her eyes,
As are the stars to heaven.
Here love, said I, thy rest shall be,
Oh, weary, world-worn soul!
Long tossed upon this shifting sea,
Behold, at last the shore for thee
Displays the shining goal.
Dear Amy, lean above me now,
And smooth aside my hair,
And bless me with thy tender vow,
And kiss all memories from my brow,
Till thou alone art there.
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