Classic Poem

We wove a web in childhood
A web of sunny air
We dug a spring in infancy
Of water pure and fair

We sowed in youth a mustard seed
We cut an almond rod
We are now grown up to riper age
Are they withered in the sod

Are they blighted failed and faded
Are they mouldered back to clay
For life is darkly shaded
And Its joys fleet fast away

Faded! the web is still of air
But how its folds are spread
And from its tints of crimson clear
How deep a glow is shed
The light of an Italian sky
Where clouds of sunset lingering lie
Is not more ruby-red

But the spring was under a mossy stone
Its jet may gush no more
Heark! sceptic bid thy doubts be gone
Is that a feeble roar
Rushing around thee lo! the tide
Of waves where armed fleets may ride
Sinking and swelling frowns & smiles
An ocean with a thousand Isles
And scarce a glimpse of shore

The mustard-seed on distant land
Bends down a mighty tree
The dry unbudding almond-wand
Has touched eternity
There came a second miracle
Such as on Aaron's sceptre fell
And sapless grew like life from heath
Bud bloom & fruit in mingling wreath
All twined the shrivelled off-shoot round
As flowers lie on the lone grave-mound

Dream that stole o'er us in the time

Dream that still faster o'er us steals
As the mild star of spring declining
The advent of that day reveals
That glows in Sirius fiery shining
Oh! as thou swellest and as the scenes
Cover this cold worlds darkest features
Stronger each change my spirit weans
To bow before thy god-like creatures

When I sat 'neath a strange roof-tree
With nought I knew or loved around me
Oh how my heart shrank back to thee
Then I felt how fast thy ties had bound me

That hour that bleak hour when the day
Closed in the cold autumnal gloaming
When the clouds hung so bleak & drear & grey
And a bitter wind through their folds was roaming

There shone no fire on, the cheerless hearth
In the chamber there gleamed no taper's twinkle
Within neither sight nor sound of mirth
Without but the blast & the sleet's chill sprinkle

Then sadly I longed for my own dear home
For a sight of the old familliar faces
I drew near the casement & sat in its gloom
And looked forth on the tempests desolate traces

Ever anon that wolfish breeze
The dead leaves & sere from their boughs was shaking
And I gazed on the hills through the leafless trees
And I felt as if my heart was breaking

Where was I e're an hour had past
Still list'ning to that dreary blast
Still in that mirthless lifeless room
Cramped, chilled & deadened by its gloom

No! thanks to that bright darling dream
Its power had shot one kindling gleam
Its voice had sent one wakening cry
And bade me lay my sorrows by
And called me earnestly to come
And borne me to my moorland home
I heard no more the senseless sound
Of task & chat that hummed around
I saw no more that grisly night
Closing the day's sepulchral light

The vision's spell had deepened o'er me
Its lands its scenes were spread before me
In one short hour a hundred homes
Had roofed me with their lordly domes
And I had sat by fires whose light
Flashed wide o'er halls of regal height
And I had seen those come & go
Whose forms gave radiance to the glow
And I had heard the matted floor
Of ante-room & corridor
Shake to some half-remembered tread
Whose haughty firmness woke even dread
As through the curtained portal strode
Some spurred & fur-wrapped Demi-God
Whose ride through that tempestuous night
Had added somewhat of a frown
To brow's that shadowed eyes of light
Fit to flash fire from Scythian crown
Till sweet salute from lady gay
Chased that unconscious scowl away
And then the savage fur-cap doffed
The Georgian mantle laid aside
The satrap stretched on cushion soft
His lov'd & chosen by his side
That hand that in its horseman's glove
Looked fit for nought but bridle rein
Caresses now its lady-love
With fingers white that shew no stain
They got in hot & jarring strife
When hate or honour warred with life
Nought redder than the roseate ring
That glitters fit for Eastern King
In one proud household, where the sound
Of life & stir rang highest round
Hall within hall burned starry bright
And light gave birth to richer light
Grandly its social tone seemed strung
Wildly its keen excitement rung
And hundreds mid its splendors free
Moved with unfettered liberty
Not gathered to a lordly feast
But each a self-invited Guest
It was the kingly custom there
That each at will the house should share

I saw the master not alone
He crossed me in a vast saloon
Just seen, then sudden vanishing
As laughingly he joined the ring
That closed around a dazzling fire
& listened to a trembling lyre
He was in light & licensed mood
Fierce gaiety had warmed his blood
Kindled his dark & brilliant eye
And toned his lips full melody

I saw him take a little child
That stretched its arms & called his name
It was his own & half he smiled
As the small eager creature came
Nestling upon his stately breast
And its fair curls & forehead laying
To what but formed a fevered nest
Its father's cheek where curls were straying
Thicker & darker on a bloom
Whose hectic brightness boded doom

He kissed it and a deeper blush
Rose to the already crimson flush
And a wild sadness flung its grace
Over his grand & Roman face
The little heedless lovely thing
Lulled on the bosom of a King
Its fingers 'mid his thick locks twining
Pleased with their rich & wreathed shining
Dreamed not what thoughts his soul were haunting
Nor why his heart so high was panting

I went out in a summer night
My path lay o'er a lonesome waste
Slumbering & still in clear moon-light
A noble road was o'er it traced
Far as the eye of man could see
No shade upon its surface stirred
All slept in mute tranquillity
Unbroke by step or wind or word

That waste had been a battle-plain
Head-stones were reared in the waving fern
There they had buried the gallant slain
That dust to its own dust might return

And one black marble monument
Rose w[h]ere the heather was rank & deep
Its base was hid with bracken & bent
Its sides were bare to the night-winds sweep

A Victory carved in polished stone
Her trumpet to her cold lips held
And strange it seemed as she stood alone
That not a single note was blown
That not a whisper swelled

It was Camalia's ancient field
I knew the desert well
For traced around a sculptured shield
These words the summer moon revealed
" Here brave Macarthy fell! "
The men of Keswick leading on
There first their best their noblest one
He did his duty well "