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Through life's most darksome passes

unforlorn ; Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt

not fall, Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and

free, And in thine every motion musical As summer air, majestic as the sea, A mystery to those who creep and crawl Through Time, and part it from Eter

nity. 1841.



I ASK not for those thoughts, that sud

den leap From being's sea, like the isle-seeming

Kraken, With whose great rise the ocean all is

shaken And a heart-tremble quivers through

the deep; Give me that growth which some per

chance deem sleep, Wherewith the steadfast coral-stems

uprise, Which, by the toil of gathering energies, Their upward way into clear sunshine

keep, Until, by Heaven's sweetest influences, Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of

green Into a pleasant island in the seas, Where, 'mid tall palms, the cane-roofed

home is seen, And wearied men shall sit at sunset's

hour, Hearing the leaves and loving God's

dear power. 1841.

My Love, I have no fear that thou

shouldst die; Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Whose numbering-clock is still thy

gentle kiss, While Time and Peace with hands en

lockëd fly, Yet care I not where in Eternity We live and love, well knowing that

there is No backward step for those who feel the

bliss Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings

high : Love hath so purified my being's core, Meseems I scarcely should be startled,

even, To find, some morn, that thou hadst

gone before ; Since, with thy love, this knowledge

too was given, Which each calm day doth strengthen

more and more, That they who love are but one step

from Heaven. 1841.




MAIDEN, when such a soul as thine is

born, The morning-stars their ancient music

make, And, joyful, once again theirsong awake, Long silent now with melancholy scorn: And thou, not mindless of so blest a

morn, By no least deed its harmony shalt

break, But shalt to that high chime thy foot

steps take,

I CANNOT think that thou shouldst

pass away, Whose life to mine is an eternal law, A piece of nature that can have no flaw, A new and certain sunrise every day; But, if thou art to be another ray About the Sun of Life, and art to live

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Tossing huge continents in scornful play, And crushing them, with din of grind

ing thunder, That makes old emptinesses stare in

wonder; The memory of a glory passed away Lingers in every heart, as, in the shell, Resounds the bygone freedom of the sea, And, every hour new signs of promise

tell That the great soul shall once again be

free, For high, and yet more high, the mur

murs swell Of inward strife for truth and liberty.



ill ;

There never yet was flower fair in vain, Let ciassic poets rhyme it as they will ; The seasons toil that it may blow again, And summer's heart doth feel its every Nor is a true soul ever born for naught; Wherever any such hath lived and died, There hath been something for true

freedom wrought, Some bulwark levelled on the evil side: Toil on, then, Greatness ! thou art in

the right, However narrow souls may call thee

wrong i Be as thou wouldst be in thine own

clear sight, And so thou wilt in all the world's ere

long ; For worldlings cannot, struggle as they

may, From man's great soul onegreat thought

XIII. Beloved, in the noisy city here, The thought of thee can make all tur

moil cease ; Around my spirit, folds thy spirit clear Its still, soft arms, and circles it with

peace; There is no room for any doubt or fear In souls so overfilled with love's in

crease, There is no memory of the bygone year But growth in heart's and spirit's per

fect ease : How hath our love, half nebulousat first, Rounded itself into a full-orbed sun ! How have our lives and wilis (as haply

erst They were, ere this forgetfulness begun) Through all their earthly distantness

outburst, And melted, like two rays of light, in

one ! 1842.

hide away






The hope of Truth grows stronger, day

by day ; I hear the soul of Man around me wak

ing, Like a great sea, its frozen fetters

breaking, And flinging up to heaven its sunlit

As the broad ocean endlessly upheaveth, With the majestic beating of his heart, The mighty tides, whereof its rightful



And over it with fuller glory flows
The sky-like spirit of God; a hope begun
In doubt and darkness 'neath a fairer


Each sea-wide bay and little weed re

ceiveth, So, through his soul who earnestly be

lieveth, Life from the universal Heart doth flow, Whereby some conquest of the eternal


oe, By instinct of God's nature, he achiev

eth: A fuller pulse of this all-powerful beauty Into the poet's gulf-like heart doth tide, And he more keenly feels the glorious

duty Of serving Truth, despised and cruci

fied, Happy, unknowing sect or creed, to rest And feel God flow forever through his

breast. 1842.

Cometh to fruitage, if it be of Truth; And to the law of meekness, faith, and

ruth, By inward sympathy, shall all be won : This thou shouldst know, who, from

the painted feature Of shifting Fashion, couldst thy brethUnto the love of ever-youthful Nature, And of a beauty fadeless and eterne ; And always 't is the saddest sight to see An old man faithless in Humanity.

ren turn



XV. THE SAME CONTINUED. ONCE hardly in a cycle blossometh A flower-like soul ripe with the seeds of

song, A spirit foreordained to cope with

wrong, Whose divine thoughts are natural as

breath, Who the old Darkness thicklyscattereth With starry words, that shoot prevail

ing light Into the deeps, and wither, with the

blight Of serene Truth, the coward heart of

Death : Woe, if such spirit thwartits errand high, And mock with lies the longing soul of Yet one age longer must true Culturelie, Soothing her bitter fetters as she can, Until new messages of love outstart At the next beating of the infinite Heart.

A POET cannot strive for despotism ; His harp falls shattered; for it still

must be The instinct of great spirits to be free, And the sworn foes of cunning barba

rism : He, who has deepest searched the wide

abysm Of that life-giving Soul which men call

fate, Knows that to put more faith in lies

and hate Than truth and love is the true atheism : Upward the soul forever turns her ayes ; The next hour always shames the hour

before; One beauty, at its highest, prophesies That by whose side it shall seem mean No Godlike thing knows aught of less

and less, But widens to the boundless Perfectness.

man !

and poor


THE SAME CONTINUED. The love of all things springs from

love of one ; Wider the soul's horizon hourly grows,

XVIII. THE SAME CONTINUED. THEREFORE think not the Past is wise

alone, For Yesterday knows nothing of the


And thou shalt love it only as the nest Whence glory-winged things to Heaven

have flown : To the great Soul alone are all things

known; Present and future are to her as past, While she in glorious madness doth

forecast That perfect bud, which seems a flower

full-blown To each new Prophet, and yet always

opes Fuller and fuller with each day and hour, Heartening the soul with odor of fresh

hopes, And longings high, and gushings of

wide power, Yet never is or shall be fully blown Save in the forethought of the Eternal


Of what in Woman is to reverence ; Thy clear heart, fresh as e'er was forest

flower, Still opens more to me its beauteous

dower; — But let praise hush, - Love asks no

evidence To prove itself well-placed; we know

not whence It gleans the straws that thatch its hum

ble bower: We can but say we found it in the

heart, Spring of all sweetest thoughts, arch foe

of blame, Sower of flowers in the dusty, mart, Pure vestal of the poet's holy flame, This is enough, and we have done our

part If we but keep it spotless as it came.





Our love is not a fading, earthly

flower: Its winged seed dropped down from

Paradise, And, nursed by day and night, by sun

and shower, Doth momently to fresher beauty

rise :

Far 'yond this narrow parapet of Time, With eyes uplift, the poet's soul should

look Into the Endless Promise, nor should

brook One prying doubt to shake his faith

sublime; To him the earth is ever in her prime And dewiness of morning, he can see Good lying hid, from all eternity, Within the teeming womb of sin and

crime ; His soul should not be cramped by any

bar, His nobleness should be so Godlike

high, That his least deed is perfect as a star, His common look majestic as the sky, And allo'erflooded with a light from far, Undinimed by clouds of weak mortality.

To us the leafless autumn is not

bare, Nor winter's rattling boughs lack lusty

green. Our summer hearts make summer's

fulness, where No leaf, or bud, or blossom may be

seen: For nature's life in love's deep life doth

lie, Love, — whose forgetfulness is beauty's

death, Whose inystic key these cells of Thou

and I Into the infinite freedom oreneth, And makes the body's dark and narrow

grate The wind-flung leaves of Heaven's

palace-gate. 1842.


TO M. 0. S. Mary, since first I knew thee, to this

hour, My love hath deepened, with my wiser




Fanatic named, and fool, yet well con

tent So he could be the nearer to God's

heart, And feel its solemn pulses sending

blood Through all the wide-spread veins of

endless good.


These rugged, wintry days I scarce

could bear, Did I not know, that, in the early spring, When wild March winds upon their

errands sing, Thou wouldst return, bursting on this

still air, Like those same winds, when, startled

from their lair, They hunt up violets, and free swift

brooks, From icy cares, even as thy clear looks Bid my heart bloom, and sing, and

break all care : When drops with welcome rain the

April day, My flowers shall find their April in


thine eyes,

Save there the rain in dreamy clouds

doth stay,

As loath to fall out of those happy skies ; Yet sure, my love, thou art most like to

May, That comes with steady sun when April

dies. 1843.

They pass me by like shadows, crowds

on crowds, Dim ghosts of men, that hover to and

fro, Hugging their bodies round them like

thin shrouds Wherein their souls were buried long

ago : They trampled on their youth, and

faith, and love, They cast their hope of human-kind

away, With Heaven's clear messages they

madly strove, And conquered, - and their spirits

turned to clay : Lo ! how they wander round the world, Whose ever-gaping maw by such is fed, Gibbering at living men, and idly rave, “We,only, truly live, but ye are dead." Alas! poor fools, the anointed eye

may trace A dead soul's epitaph in every face !

their grave,




foes ;

HB stood upon the world's broad

threshold ; wide The din of battle and of slaughter rose ; He saw God stand upon the weaker

side, That sank in seeming loss before its Many there were who made great haste

and sold Unto the cunning enemy their swords, He scorned their gifts of fame, and

power, and gold, And, underneath their soft and flowery

words, Heard the cold serpent hiss ; therefore

he went And humbly joined him to the weaker


I GRIEVE not that ripe Knowledge

takes away The charm that Nature to my child

hood wore, For, with that insight, cometh, day by

day, A greater bliss than wonder was before ; The real doth not clip the poet's

wings, To win the secret of a weed's plain heart

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