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Spite of winter, thou keep'st thy green

glory, FAR up on Katahdin thou towerest,

Lusty father of Titans past number! Purple-blue with the distance and The snow-flakes alone make thee hoary, vast;

Nestling close to thy branches in Like a cloud o'er the lowlands thou

slumber, lowerest,

And thee mantling with silence. That hangs poised on a lull in the blast,

Thou alone know'st the splendor of To its fall leaning awful.


Mid thy snow-silvered, hushed preIn the storm, like a prophet o’ermad

cipices, dened,

Hearing crags of green ice groan and Thou singest and tossest thy branches;

splinter, Thy heart with the terror is gladdened,

And then plunge down the muffled Thou forebodest the dread avalanches,

abysses When whole mountains swoop vale

In the quiet of midnight. ward.

Thou alone know'st the glory of summer, In the calm thou o'erstretchest the val.

Gazing down on thy broad seas of leys

forest, With thine arms, as if blessings im- On thy subjects that send a proud murploring,

mur Like an old king led forth from his pal- Up to thee, to their sachem, who towace,

erest When his people to battle are pouring From thy bleak throne to heaven.

From the city beneath him.
To the lumberer asleep 'neath thy gloom-

SI DESCENDERO IN INFERNUM, ADES. Thou dost sing of wild billows in mo

0, WANDERING dim on the extremest tion,

edge Till he longs to be swung mid their boom

of God's bright providence, whose

spirits sigh ing

Drearily in you, like the winter sedge In the tents of the Arabs of ocean, Whose finned isles are their cattle.

That shivers o'er the dead pool stiff

and dry,

A thin, sad voice, when the bold wind For the gale snatches thee for his lyre,

roars by With mad hand crashing melody From the clear North of Duty, frantic,

Still by cracked arch and broken shaft I While he pours forth his mighty de trace sire

That here was once a shrine and holy To leap down on the eager Atlantic,

Whose arms stretch to his play Of the supernal Beauty,

A child's play-altar reared of stones

and moss, The wild storm makes his lair in thy With wilted flowers for offering laid branches,

across, Swooping thence on the continent un | Mute recognition of the all-ruling Grace.

der ; Like a lion, crouched close on his How far are ye from the innocent, from haunches,

those There awaiteth his leap the fierce Whose hearts are as a little lane serene, thunder,

Smooth-heaped from wall to wall with Growling low with impatience.

unbroke snows,


Or in the summer blithe with lamb-1

TO THE PAST. cropped green, Save the one track, where naught WONDROUS and awful are thy silent more rude is seen

halls, Than the plump wain at even

O kingdom of the past ! Bringing hoine four months' sunshine There lie the bygone ages in their palls, bound in sheaves !

Guarded by shadows vast; How far are ye from those! yet who There all is hushed and breathless, believes

Save when some image of old error falls That ye can shut out heaven?

Earth worshipped once as deathless. Your souls partake its influence, not in vain

There sits drear Egypt, mid beleaguerNor all unconscious, as that silent lane ing sands, Its drift of noiseless apple-blooms re Half woman and half beast, ceives.

The burnt-out torch within her moul

dering hands Looking within myself, I note how thin That once lit all the East; A plank of station, chance, or pros

A dotard bleared and hoary, perous fate,

There Asser crouches o'er the blackened Doth fence me from the clutching waves

brands of sin;

Of Asia's long-quenched glory. In my own heart I find the worst man's mate,

Still as a city buried 'neath the sea And see not dimly the smooth-hingëd

Thy courts and temples stand; gate

Idle as forms on wind-waved tapestry That opes to those abysses

Of saints and heroes grand, Where ye grope darkly, - ye who never

Thy phantasms grope and shiver, knew

Or watch the loose shores crumbling siOn your young hearts love's consecrating

lently dew,

Into Time's gnawing river. Or felt a mother's kisses,

Titanic shapes with faces blank and dun, Or home's restraining tendrils round

Of their old godhead lorn, you curled ;

Gaze on the embers of the sunken sun, Ah, side by side with heart's-ease in

Which they misdeem for morn; this world

And yet the eternal sorrow The fatal nightshade grows and bitter rue! in

tterrue! In their unmonarched eyes says day is

done One band ye cannot break, — the force Without the hope of morrow.

that clips And grasps your circles to the central o realm of silence and of swart eclipse, light;

The shapes that haunt thy gloom Yours is the prodigal comet's long el. Make signs to us and move their withlipse,

ered lips Self-exiled to the farthest verge of Across the gulf of doom ; night;

Yet all their sound and motion Yet strives with you no less that in- Bring no more freight to us than wraiths ward might

of ships No sin hath e'er imbruted; 1 On the mirage's ocean. The god in you the creed-dimmed eye eludes;

And if sometimes a moaning wandereth The Law brooks not to have its solitudes From out thy desolate halls, By bigot feet polluted;

If some grim shadow of thy living death Yet they who watch your God-com- Across our sunshine falls pelled return

And scares the world to error, May see your happy perihelion burn The eternal life sends forth melodious Where the calm sun his unfledged breath planets broods.

To chase the misty terror.

Thy mighty clamors, wars, and world- Aud lure out blossoms ; to thy bosom noised deeds

leaps, Are silent now in dust,

As to a mother's, the o'erwearied heart, Gone like a tremble of the huddling Hearing far off and dim the toiling reeds

mart, Beneath somo sudden gust;

The hurrying feet, the curses without Thy forms and creeds have vanished,

number, Tossed out to wither like unsightly weeds And, circled with the glow Elysian From the world's garden banished. Of thine exulting vision,

Out of its very cares wooes charms for Whatever of true life there was in thee peace and slumber.

Leaps in our age's veins; Wield still thy bent and wrinkled em- To thee the earth lifts up her fettered pery,

hands And shake thine idle chains; - And cries for vengeance ; with a pity. To thee thy dross is clinging,

ing smile For us thy martyrs die, thy prophets see, Thou blessest her, and she forgets her Thy poets still are singing.


And her old woe-worn face a little Here, mid the bleak waves of our strife while and care,

Grows young and noble; unto thee tho Float the green Fortunate Isles

Oppressor Where all thy hero-spirits dwell, and

Looks, and is dumb with awe;

The eternal law,
Our martyrdoms and toils;

Which makes the crime its own blindThe present moves attended

fold redresser, With all of brave and excellent and fair Shadows his heart with perilons foreThat made the old time splendid.

And he can see the grim-eyed Doom

From out the trein bling gloom

Its silent-footed steeds towards his pal.

ace goading. OLAND of Promise! from what Pisgah's height

What promises hast thou for Poets' Can I behold thy stretch of peaceful

eyes, bowers,

| Aweary of the turmoil and the wrong! Thy golden harvests flowing out of sight. To all their hopes what overjoyed reThy nestled homes and sun-illumined | plies ! towers ?

What undreamed ecstasies for bliss. Gazing upon the sunset's high-heaped

ful song! gold,

Thy happy plains no war-trump's brawl. Its crags of opal and of chrysolite,

ing clangor Its deeps on deeps of glory, that un.

Disturbs, and fools the poor to hate fold

the poor; Still brightening abysses,

The humble glares not on the high with Andeblazing precipices,

anger; Whence but a scanty leap it seems to

Love leaves no grudge at less, no greed heaven,

for more ; Sometimes a glimpse is given | In vain strives Self the godlike sense to Of thy more gorgeons realm, thy more

smother; unstinted blisses.

Froni the soul's deeps

It throbs and leaps ; O Land of Quiet! to thy shore the surf The noble 'neath foul rags beholds his Of the perturbed Present rolls and long-lost brother.

sleeps; Our storms breathe soft as June upon to thee the Martyr looketh, and his thy turf




Unlock their fangs and leave his Where are most sorrows, there the pospirit free;

et's sphere is, To thee the Poet mid his toil aspires, To feed the soul with patience, And grief and hunger climb about his To heal its desolations knee,

| With words of unshorn truth, with love Welcome as children ; thou upholdest

that never wearies. The lone Inventor by his demon

haunted; The Prophet cries to thee when hearts

HEBE. are coldest, And gazing o'er the midnight's! I saw the twinkle of white feet, bleak abyss,

I saw the flash of robes descending; Sees the drowsed soul awaken at

Before her ran an influence fleet, thy kiss,

That bowed my heart like barley bendAnd stretch its happy arms and leap up disenchanted.

As, in bare fields, the searching bees

| Pilot to blooms beyond our finding, Thou bringest vengeance, but so loving-| kindly

It led me on, by sweet degrees The guilty thinks it pity : taught by Joy's simple honey-cells unbinding. thee,

Those Graces were that seemed grim Fierce tyrants drop the scourges where

Fates; with blindly

With nearer love the sky leaned o'er Their own souls they were scarring;|

me; conquerors see With horror in their hands the accursed On musical hinges swung before me.

The long-sought Secret's golden gates That tore the meek One's side on I saw the brimmed bowl in her grasp Calvary,

Thrilling with godhood; like a lover And from their trophies shrink with I sprang the proffered life to clasp ;ghastly fear;

The beaker fell; the luck was over. Thou, too, art the Forgiver, The beauty of man's soul to man re The Earth has drunk the vintage up; vealing;

What boots it patch the goblet's splinThe arrows from thy quiver

ters? Pierce Error's guilty heart, but only Can Summer fill the icy cup, pierce for healing.

| Whose treacherous crystal is but Win.

ter's ? 0, whither, whither, glory-winged

O spendthrift haste ! await the Gods; dreams, From out Life's sweat and turmoil | Their nectar crowns the lips of Pawould ye bear me ?

tience; Shut, gates of Fancy, on your golden Haste scatters on unthankful sods gleams, —

The immortal gift in vain libations. This agony of hopeless contrast spare Cov Hebe flies from those that woo,

me! Fade, cheating glow, and leave me to

And shuns the hands would seize upon

her; my night!

Follow thy life, and she will sue He is a coward, who would bor

" To pour for thee the cup of honor. row

A charm against the present sorrow From the vague Future's promise of de

THE SEARCH. light: As life's alarums nearer roll,

I WENT to seek for Christ, The ancestral buckler calls,

And Nature seemed so fair Self-clanging from the walls That first the woods and fields my youth In the high temple of the soul;


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