« VorigeDoorgaan »
Had wooed ; and it hath heard from lips which
late Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word, That told the wedded one her peace was flown. Farewell to the sweet sunshine! One glad day Is added now to Childhood's merry days, And one calm day to those of quiet Age. Still the fleet hours run on; and as I lean, Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit, By those who watch the dead, and those who
twine Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes Of her sick infant shades the painful light, And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath.
Oh thou great Movement of the Universe, Or Change, or Flight of Time—for ye are one ! That bearest, silently, this visible scene Into night's shadow and the streaming rays Of starlight, whither art thou bearing me ? I feel the mighty current sweep me on, Yet know not whither. Man foretells afar The courses of the stars; the very hour He knows when they shall darken or grow bright; Yet doth the eclipse of Sorrow and of Death Come unforewarned. Who next, of those I love, Shall pass from life, or, sadder yet, shall fall From virtue? Strife with foes, or bitterer strife With friends, or shame and general scorn of
menWhich who can bear?-or the fierce rack of pain, Lie they within my path ? Or shall the years
Push me, with soft and inoffensive pace,
W. C. BRYANT.
Voyage of the Soul. ....... The high-born soul Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft, Through fields of air : pursues the flying storm; Rides on the volleyed lightning through the
heavens; Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars, The blue profound, and hovering round the sun, Beholds him pouring the redundant stream
Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway
What in Thy Love Possess I Not ? W HAT in Thy love possess I not ?
My star by night, my sun by day,
My wine to cheer, my bread to stay ;
What profits me that I am born ?
Nor know I peace 'till Thou return:
Unchangeable Thou hast me view'd;
Thy tender mercies me pursu'd:
We are Spirits clad in Feils.
Feeling deeper than all thought:
What unto themselves was taught.
We are spirits clad in veils :
Man by man was never seen : All our deep communing fails
To remove the shadowy screen. Heart to heart was never known :
Mind with mind did never meet: We are columns left alone,
Of a temple once complete. Like the stars that gem the sky,
Far apart, though seeming near, In our light we scatter'd lie;
All is thus but starlight here. What is social company
But a babbling summer-stream ? What our wise philosophy
But the glancing of a dream ? Only when the sun of love
Melts the scatter'd stars of thought, Only when we live above
What the dim-eyed world hath taught, Only when our souls are fed
By the Fount which gave them birth, And by inspiration led
Which they never drew from earth; We, like parted drops of rain,
Swelling till they meet and run, Shall be all absorb'd again, Melting, flowing into one.
C. P. CRANCH.