Look! look! that livid flash! And instantly follows the rattling thunder, As if some cloud-crag, split asunder, Fell, splintering with a ruinous crash, On the Earth, which crouches in silence under; And now a solid gray wall of rain Shuts off the landscape, mile by mile; For a breath's space I see the blue wood again, And ere the next heart-beat, the windhurled pile, That seemed but now a league aloof, Bursts crackling o'er the sun-parched roof; Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, Hush! Still as death, The tempest holds his breath The rain stops short, but from the eaves You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves, All is so bodingly still; Gone, gone, so soon! Can shape a giant in the air, LOVE. TRUE Love is but a humble, low-born thing, And hath its food served up in earthen ware; It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand, Through the every-dayness of this workday world, Baring its tender feet to every flint, A simple, fireside thing, whose quiet smile Can warm earth's poorest hovel to a home; Which, when our autumn cometh, as it must, And life in the chill wind shivers bare and leafless, Shall still be blest with Indian-summer Such is true Love, which steals into the heart With feet as silent as the lightsome dawn That kisses smooth the rough brows of the dark, And hath its will through blissful gentleness, Not like a rocket, which, with passionate glare, Whirs suddenly up, then bursts, and leaves the night Painfully quivering on the dazed eyes; A love that gives and takes, that seeth faults, Not with flaw-seeking eyes like needle points, But loving-kindly ever looks them down With the o'ercoming faith that still forgives; A love that shall be new and fresh each hour, As is the sunset's golden mystery, But faces Truth and Beauty as their peer, Showing its worthiness of noble thoughts Of good and beauty in the soul of man, And traces, in the simplest heart that beats, A family-likeness to its chosen one, That claims of it the rights of brotherhood. For love is blind but with the fleshly eye, That so its inner sight may be more clear; Pierces the body's mask of thin disguise, With arms outstretched and eager face ablaze, Yearning to be but understood and loved. TO PERDITA, SINGING. THY voice is like a fountain, Leaping up in clear moonshine; Silver, silver, ever mounting, Ever sinking, Without thinking, To that brimful heart of thine. Clear and low; And sweetness, wove of joy and woe, From their teaching it hath taken: It hath caught a touch of sadness, It hath tones of clearest gladness, A dim, sweet twilight voice it is With starry feelings quivered through. And I never weary counting Its clear droppings, lone and single, Or when in one full gush they mingle, Shooting in melodious light. Thine is music such as yields Feelings of old brooks and fields, And, around this pent-up room, Sheds a woodland, free perfume; O, thus forever sing to me! O, thus forever! The green, bright grass of childhood bring to me, Flowing like an emerald river, Peace sits within thine eyes, While, through thy lips and face, arise And white arms crost, The beauty which the summer time That filled thy soul with joyous dread, Yea, every holy influence, In thine eyes to-day is seen, Whatever led thy childish feet, Thy voice is like a fountain, Dims the low East with faintest white, We know not if 't is dark or bright; But, when the great moon hath rolled round, And, sudden-slow, its solemn power Grows from behind its black, clear-edged bound, No spot of dark the fountain keepeth, But, swift as opening eyelids, leapeth Into a waving silver flower. THE MOON. My soul was like the sea, Before the moon was made, Moaning in vague immensity, Of its own strength afraid, Unrestful and unstaid. Through every rift it foamed in vain, About its earthly prison, Seeking some unknown thing in pain, And sinking restless back again, For yet no moon had risen: And lived but in an aimless seeking. So was my soul; but when 't was full Whispered a dim foreboding, Making its waters meet, As if by an unconscious will, For the moon's silver feet, So lay my soul within mine eyes When thou, its guardian moon, didst rise. And now, howe'er its waves above May toss and seem uneaseful, One strong, eternal law of Love, With guidance sure and peaceful, As calin and natural as breath, Moves its great deeps through life and death. REMEMBERED MUSIC. A FRAGMENT. THICK-RUSHING, like an ocean vast Rising and rising momently, Up to a sudden ecstasy. And then, like minute-drops of rain Till it was almost like a pain To listen when the next would be. SONG. TO M. L. A LILY thou wast when I saw thee first, By morning, and noontide, and evening nursed: In all of nature thou hadst thy share ; Thou wast waited on By the wind and sun; The rain and the dew for thee took care; It seemed thou never couldst be more fair. A lily thou wast when I saw thee first, A lily-bud; but O, how strange, How full of wonder was the change, When, ripe with all sweetness, thy full bloom burst! How did the tears to my glad eyes start, When the woman-flower Reached its blossoming hour, And I saw the warm deeps of thy golden heart! Glad death may pluck thee, but never before The gold dust of thy bloom divine Hath dropped from thy heart into mine, To quicken its faint germs of heavenly lore; As if thy natal stars were flowers That shook their seeds round thee on earth. And thou, to lull thine infant rest, Wast cradled like an Indian child; All pleasant winds from south and west With lullabies thine ears beguiled, Rocking thee in thine oriole's nest, Till Nature looked at thee and smiled. Thine every fancy seems to borrow A hope-lit rainbow out of tears, - Though 'yond to-day it never peers. I would more natures were like thine, THE FOUNTAIN. INTO the sunshine, Into the moonlight, Into the starlight Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery, Still climbing heavenward, Never aweary; Glad of all weathers, Full of a nature |