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And the dread, like mist in sunshine, | Then she heard a voice come onward
As Eve heard the songs in Eden, “Once my love, my love forever,
Dropping earthward with the dew; Flesh or spirit, still the same, Well she knew the happy singer, If I failed at time of trysting,
Well the happy song she knew. Deem thou not my faith to blame; 1, alas, was made a captive,
Forward leaped she o'er the threshold, As from Holy Land I carne.
Eager as a glancing surf;
Fell froin her the spirit's languor, "On a green spot in the desert,
Fell from her the body's scurf; Gleaming like an emerald star,
|'Neath the palm next day some Arabs Where a palm-tree, in lone silence,
Found a corpse upon the turf.
THE BIRCH-TREE. " There thou 'lt find the humble postern RIPPLING through thy branches goes To the castle of my foe;
the sunshine, If thy love burn clear and faithful,
Among thy leaves that palpitate forStrike the gateway, green and low,
ever ; Ask to enter, and the warder
Ovid in thee a pining Nymph had prisSurely will not say thee no."
The soul once of some tremulous inland Slept again the aspen silence,
river, But her loneliness was o'er ;
Quivering to tell her woe, but, ah ! Round her soul a motherly patience
dumb, dumb forever! Clasped its arms forevermore: From her heart ebbed back the sorrow, While all the forest, witched with slumLeaving smooth the golden shore.
Holds up its leaves in happy, happy Donned she now the pilgrimn scallop,
stillness, Took the pilgrim staff in hand; Waiting the dew, with breath and pulse Like a cloud-shade, flitting eastward,
suspended, Wandered she o'er sea and land; I hear afar thy whispering, gleamy And her footsteps in the desert
islands, Fell like cool rain on the sand. And track thee wakeful still amid the
wide-hung silence. Soon, beneath the palm-tree's shadow,
Knelt she at the postern low; On the brink of some wood-nestled lakeAnd thereat she knocked full gently,
let, Fearing much the warder's no; | Thy foliage, like the tresses of a Dryad, All her heart stood still and listened, Dripping round thy slim white stem, As the door swung backward slow.
Slopes quivering down the water's dusky There she saw no surly warder
quiet, With an eye like bolt and bar ; Thou shrink'st as on her bath's edge Through her soul a sense of music
would some startled Naiad. Throbbed, and, like a guardian Lar, On the threshold stood an angel, Thon art the go-between of rustic lovers ; Bright and silent as a star.
Thy white bark has their secrets in its
keeping; Fairest seemed he of God's seraphs, Reuben writes here the happy name of
And her spirit, lily-wise, Opened when he turned upon her And thy lithe bouglis hang murmuring The deep welcome of his eyes,
and weeping Sendling upward to that sunlight Above her, as she steals the mystery All its dew for sacrifice.
from thy kveping
Thou art to me like my belovëd maiden, For, as that saved of bird and beast So frankly coy, so full of trembly confi. A pair for propagation, dences;
| So has the seed of these increased Thy shadow scarce seems shade, thy And furnished half the nation.
pattering leaflets Sprinkle their gathered sunshine o'er Kings sit, they say, in slippery seats; my senses,
But those slant precipices And Nature gives me all her summer Of ice the northern voyager meets confidences.
Less slippery are than this is ;
| To cling therein would pass the wit Whether my heart with hope or sorrow Of royal man or woman, tremble,
And whatsoe'er can stay in it Thou sympathizest still ; wild and un-' Is more or less than human.
quiet, I fling me down; thy ripple, like a river, I offer to all bores this perch, Flows valleyward, where calmness is, Dear well-intentioned people and by it
With heads as void as week-day church, My heart is floated down into the land Tongues longer than the steeple ; of quiet.
To folks with missions, whose gaunt
See golden ages rising, – AN INTERVIEW WITH MILES Salt of the earth ! in what queer Guys STANDISH.
Thou 'rt fond of crystallizing! I sat one evening in my room,
My wonder, then, was not unmixed In that sweet hour of twilight
With merciful suggestion, When blended thoughts, half light, half | When, as my roving eyes grew fixed gloom,
Upon the chair in question, Throng through the spirit's skylight; I saw its trembling arms enclose The flames by fits curled round the bars, A figure grim and rusty,
Whose doublet plain and plainer hose While embers dropped like falling stars, Were something worn and dusty. And in the ashes tinkled.
Now even such men as Nature forms I sat and mused; the fire burned low, Merely to fill the street with, And, o'er my senses stealing,
Once turned to ghosts by hungry worms, Crept something of the ruddy glow | Are serious things to meet with ;
That bloomed on wall and ceiling; | Your penitent spirits are no jokes, My pictures (they are very few,
And, though I'm not averse to The heads of ancient wise men) A quiet shade, even they are folks Smoothed down their knotted fronts, One cares not to speak first to.
and grew As rosy as excisemen.
Who knows, thought I, but he has come,
By Charon kindly ferried, My antique high-backed Spanish chair To tell me of a mighty sum
Felt thrills through wood and leather, Behind my wainscot buried ? That had been strangers since whilere, | There is a buccaneerish air 'Mid Andalusian heather,
About that garb outlandish — The oak that built its sturdy frame Just then the ghost drew up his chair His happy arms stretched over
And said, “My name is Standish. The ox whose fortunate hide became The bottom's polished cover.
“I come from Plymouth, deadly bored
With toasts, and songs, and speeches, It came out in that famous bark, As long and flat as my old sword, That brought our sires intrepid,
As thread bare as my breeches : Capacious as another ark
They understand us Pilgrims ! they, For furniture decrepit ;
Smooth men with rosy faces,
A figure criming arms enclose
the chimney crinkled me bars, |
Strength's knots and gnarls all pared | “No, Freedom, no! blood should not away,
stain And varnish in their places!
The hem of thy white vesture. “We had some toughness in our grain. / “I feel the soul in me draw near The eye to rightly see us is
The mount of prophesying ; Not just the one that lights the brain
In this bleak wilderness I hear Of drawing-room Tyrtæuses :
A John the Baptist crying ; They talk about their Pilgrim blood,
| Far in the east I see upleap Their birthright high and holy !
The streaks of first forewarning, A mountain-stream that ends in mud
| And they who sowed the light shall reap Methinks is melancholy.
The golden sheaves of morning.
“Child of our travail and our woe, “He had stiff knees, the Puritan,
Light in our day of sorrow, That were not good at bending;
Through my rapt spirit I foreknow The homespun dignity of nian
The glory of thy morrow; He thought was worth defending;
| I hear great steps, that through the shade He did not, with his pinchbeck ore,
Draw nigher still and nigher, His country's shame forgotten, And voices call like that which bade Gild Freedom's coffin o'er and o'er,
The prophet come up higher." When all within was rotten.
I looked, no form mine eyes could find, “ These loud ancestral boasts of yours, I heard the red cock crowing,
How can they else than vex us? And through my window-chinks the Where were your dinner orators
wind When slavery grasped at Texas ?
A dismal tune was blowing; Dumb on his knees was every one Thought I, My neighbor Buckingham That now is bold as Cæsar;
Hath somewhat in him gritty, Mere pegs to hang an office on
Some Pilgrim-stuff that hates all sham, Such stalwart men as these are." And he will print my ditty.
“Good sir," I said, "you seem much stirred ;
ON THE CAPTURE OF FUGITIVE The sacred compromises -"
SLAVES NEAR WASHINGTON. “Now God confound the dastard word!
Look on who will in apathy, and stifle My gall thereat arises : Northward it hath this sense alone,
they who can, That you, your conscience blinding,
The sympathies, the hopes, the words, Shall bow your fool's nose to the stone,
that make man truly man ; When slavery feels like grinding.
Let those whose hearts are dungeoned
up with interest or with ease
| Consent to hear with quiet pulse of “'T is shame to see such painted sticks
loathsome deeds like these ! In Vane's and Winthrop's places, To see your spirit of Seventy-six | I first drew in New England's air, and Drag humbly in the traces,
from her hardy breast With slavery's lash upon her back, Sucked in the tyrant-hating milk that And herds of office-holders
will not let me rest; To shout applause, as, with a crack, And if my words seem treason to the It peels her patient shoulders.
dullard and the tame,
'T is but my Bay-State dialect, - our “ We forefathers to such a rout!
fathers spake the same ! No, by my faith in God's word!". Half rose the ghost, and half drew out Shame on the costly mockery of piling The ghost of his old broadsword,
stone on stone Then thrust it slowly back again, To those who won our liberty, the heroes And said, with reverent gesture,
dead and gone,
While we look coldly on and see law- Out from the land of bondage 't is de. shielded ruffians slay
creed our slaves shall go, The men who fain would win their own, And signs to us are offered, as erst to the heroes of to-day!
If we are blind, their exodus, like IsAre we pledged to craven silence ! 0,
rael's of yore, fling it to the wind,
Through a Red Sea is doomed to be, The parchment wall that bars us from
whose surges are of gore. the least of human kind, That makes us cringe and temporize, 'T is ours to save our brethren, with and dumbly stand at rest,
peace and love to win While Pity's burning flood of words is Their darkened hearts from error, ere red-hot in the breast !
they harden it to sin ;
But if before his duty man with listless Though we break our fathers' promise,
spirit stands, we have nobler duties first; Erelong the Great Avenger takes the The traitor to Humanity is the traitor
work from out his hands. most accursed; Man is more than Constitutions ; better rot beneath the sod,
TO THE DANDELION. Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly false to God !
Dear common flower, that grow'st
beside the way, We owe allegiance to the State ; but Fringing the dusty road with harmless deeper, truer, more,
gold, To the sympathies that God hath set
First pledge of blithesome May, within our spirit's core ;
Which children pluck, and, full of pride Our country claims our fealty ; we grant
uphold, it so, but then
High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed Before Man made us citizens, great
that they Nature made us men.
An Eldorado in the grass have found,
Which not the rich earth's ample He's true to God who's true to man;
round wherever wrong is done,
May match in wealth, thou art more To the humblest and the weakest, 'neath
dear to me the all-beholding sun,
Than all the prouder summer-blooms That wrong is also done to us; and they
may be. are slaves most base, Whose love of right is for themselves, Gold such as thine ne'er drew the and not for all their race.
Through the primeval hush of Indian God works for all. Ye cannot hem the
seas, hope of being free
Nor wrinkled the lean brow With parallels of latitude, with moun. Of age, to rob the lover's heart of ease ; tain-range or sea.
'T is the Spring's largess, which she Put golden padlocks on Truth's lips, be
scatters now callous as ye will,
To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand, From soul to soul, o'er all the world, Though most hearts never underleaps one electric thrill.
To take it at God's value, but pass by Chain down your slaves with ignorance, The offered wealth with unrewarded ye cannot keep apart,
eye. With all your craft of tyranny, the human heart from heart :
Thou art my tropics and mine Italy; When first the Pilgrims landed on the To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime; Bay State's iron shore,
The eyes thou givest me The word went forth that slavery should Are in the heart, and heed not space or one day be no more.
Not in mid June the golden-cui
THE GHOST-SEER. rassed bee Feels a more summer-like warm ravish- | YE who, passing graves by night, ment
Glance not to the left nor right, In the white lily's breezy tent, Lest a spirit should arise, His fragrant Sy baris, than I, when Cold and white, to freeze your eyes, first
Some weak phantom, which your doubt From the dark green thy yellow cir- Shapes upon the dark without cles burst.
From the dark within, a guess
At the spirit's deathlessness, Then think I of deep shadows on the Which ye entertain with fear grass,
In your self-built dungeon here, Of meadows where in sun the cattle Where ye sell your God-given lives graze,
| Just for gold to buy you gyves, Where, as the breezes pass, | Ye without a shudder meet The gleaming rushes lean a thousand in the city's noonday street, ways,
Spirits sadder and more dread
Buried, beyond hope of light,
See ye not that woman pale ? Some woodland gap, and of a sky | There are bloodhounds on her trail ! above,
Bloodhounds two, all gaunt and lean, Where one white cloud like a stray (For the soul their scent is keen,) lamb doth move.
Want and Sin, and Sin is last,
They have followed far and fast; My childhood's earliest thoughts are Want gave tongue, and, at her howl, linked with thee;
Sin awakened with a growl. The sight of thee calls back the robin's Ah, poor girl! she had a right song,
To a blessing from the light; Who, from the dark old tree Title-deeds to sky and earth Beside the door, sang clearly all day God gave to her at her birth; long,
But, before they were enjoyed, And I, secure in childish piety, Poverty had made them void, Listened as if I heard an angel sing. And had drunk the sunshine up With news from heaven, which he From all nature's ample cup, could bring
Leaving her a first-born's share Fresh every day to my untainted in the dregs of darkness there. ears
Often, on the sidewalk bleak, When birds and flowers and I were Hungry, all alone, and weak, happy peers.
She has seen, in night and storm,
Rooms o’erflow with firelight warm,
Till each ray that on her fell
Stabbed her like an icicle,
Till the floor becomes her bier,
Close upon her very heels,
| She shall hear them at the door On all these living pages of God's Whine and scratch to be let in, book.
| Sister bloodhounds, Want and Sin!