While, through thy lips and face, arise! For yet no moon had risen:
The melodies from out thy breast; | Its only voice a vast dumb moan,
She sits and sings,

Of utterless anguish speaking,
With folded wings

| It lay unhopefully alone,
And white arms crost,

And lived but in an aimless seeking. “Weep not for bygone things, They are not lost:

So was my soul; but when 't was full The beauty which the summer time Of unrest to o'erloading, O'er thine opening spirit shed, A voice of something beautiful The forest oracles sublime

Whispered a dim foreboding, That filled thy soul with joyous dread, And yet so soft, so sweet, so low, The scent of every smallest flower

It had not more of joy than woe; That made thy heart sweet for an

And, as the sea doth oft lie still, hour,

Making its waters meet, Yea, every holy influence,

As if by an unconscious will, Flowing to thee, thou knewest not For the moon's silver feet, whence,

So lay my soul within mine eyes In thine eyes to-day is seen,

When thou, its guardian moon, didst rise. Fresh as it hath ever been; Promptings of Nature, beckonings

And now, howe'er its waves above sweet,

May toss and seem uneaseful, Whatever led thy childish feet,

One strong, eternal law of Love, Still will linger unawares

With guidance sure and peaceful,

As calin and natural as breath,
The guiders of thy silver hairs;
Every look and every word

Moves its great deeps throngh life and Which thou givest forth to-day.

death. Tell of the singing of the bird Whose music stilled thy boyish play." | REMEMBERED MUSIC,

Thy voice is like a fountain,

Twinkling up in sharp starlight,
When the moon behind the mountain

THICK-RUSHING, like an ocean vast
Dinns the low East with faintest white,

Of bisons the far prairie shaking,
Ever darkling,

The notes crowd heavily and fast
Ever sparkling,

As surfs, one plunging while the last We know not if 't is dark or bright;

Draws seaward from its foamy breaking. But, when the great moon hath rolled | Or in low murmurs they began, round,

Rising and rising momently,
And, sudden-slow, its solemn powerLAs o'er å harp Æolian
Grows from behind its black, clear-edgëd A fitful breeze, until they ran

Up to a sudden ecstasy.
No spot of dark the fountain keepeth,
But, swift as opening eyelids, leapeth And then, like minute-drops of rain
Into a waving silver flower.

| Ringing in water silverly,
They lingering dropped and dropped


Till it was almost like a pain

To listen when the next would be. My soul was like the sea,

Before the moon was made, Moaning in vague immensity,

SONG. Of its own strength afraid,

TO M. L. Unrestful and unstaid. Through every rift it foamed in vain, | A LILY thou wast when I saw thee first, About its earthly prison,

A lily-bud not opened quite, Seeking some unknown thing in pain, That hourly grew more pure and And sinking restless back again,


By morning, and noontide, and evening | As if thy natal stars were flowers nursed :

That shook their seeds round thee on In all of nature thou hadst thy share ; earth.

Thou wast waited on
By the wind and sun ;

And thou, to lull thine infant rest,
The rain and the dew for thee took care; Wast cradled like an Indian child ;
It seemed thou never couldst be more All pleasant winds from south and west

With lullabies thine ears beguiled,

Rocking thee in thine oriole's nest, A lily thou wast when I saw thee first, Till Nature looked at thee and smiled.

A lily-bud; but o, how strange,

How full of wonder was the change, Thine every fancy seems to borrow When, ripe with all sweetness, thy full A sunlight from thy childish years, bloom burst!

Making a golden cloud of sorrow, How did the tears to my glad eyes start, A hope-lit rainbow out of tears, – When the woman-flower

Thy heart is certain of to-morrow, Reached its blossoming hour, Though 'yond to-day it never peers. And I saw the warm deeps of thy golden heart!

I would more natures were like thine,

So innocently wild and free, Glad death may pluck thee, but never

Whose sad thoughts, even, leap and shine, before

I Like sunny wavelets in the sea,
The gold dust of thy bloom divine

Making us mindless of the brine,
Hath dropped from thy heart into

In gazing on the brilliancy.
To quicken its faint germs of heavenly

For no breeze comes nigh thee but car-
ries away

INTO the sunshine,
Some impulses bright

Full of the light,
Of fragrance and light,

Leaping and flashing
Which fall upon souls that are lone

From morn till night; and astray, To plant fruitful hopes of the flower of

Into the moonlight, day.

Whiter than snow,

Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow;
I would more natures were like thine,
That never casts a glance before,

Into the starlight
Thou Hebe, who thy heart's bright wine

Rushing in spray, So lavishly to all dost pour,

Happy at midnight, That we who drink forget to pine,

Happy by day; And can but dream of bliss in store.

Ever in motion, Thou canst not see a shade in life ;

Blithesome and cheery, With sunward instinct thou dost rise,

Still climbing heavenward, And, leaving clouds below at strife,

Never aweary;
Gazest undazzled at the skies,
With all their blazing splendors rife,

Glad of all weathers,
A songful lark with eagle's eyes.

Still seeming best,

Upward or downward,
Thou wast some foundling whom the

Motion thy rest;
Nursed, laughing, with the milk of

Full of a nature

Nothing can tame,
Bome influence more gay than ours

Changed every moment, Hath ruled thy nature from its birth,

Ever the same ;


Ceaseless aspiring,

| Than all men he more fearless was and Ceaseless content,

freer, Darkness or sunshine

And all his brethren cried with one Thy element;


“Behold the holy man! Behold the Glorious fountain,

Let my heart be

Him who hath spoken with the unseen
Fresh, changeful, constant,

Lord !”
Upward, like thee!

He to his heart with large embrace had


The universal sorrow of mankind, ODE.

And, from that root, a shelter never


The tree of wisdom grew with sturdy In the old days of awe and keen-eyed rind. wonder,

He could interpret well the wondrous The Poet's song with blood-warm truth voices was rife ;

Which to the calm and silent spirit He saw the mysteries which circle under

come; Theoutwardshell and skin of daily life. He knew that the One Soul no more Nothing to him were fleeting time and

rejoices fashion,

In the star's anthem than the insect's His soul was led by the eternal law;

hum, There was in him no hope of fame, no He in his heart was ever meek and passion,

humble, But with calm, godlike eyes he only And yet with kingly pomp his numsaw.

bers ran, He did not sigh o'er heroes dead and As he foresaw how all things false should buried,

crumble Chief-mourner at the Golden Age's Before the free, uplifted soul of man : hearse,

And, when he was made full to overflowNor deem that souls whom Charon grim i ng had ferried

With all the loveliness of heaven and Alone were fitting themes of epic verse: earth, He could believe the promise of to. Out rushed his song, like molten iron morrow,

glowing, And feel the wondrous meaning of to. To show God sitting by the humblest day ;

hearth. He had a deeper faith in holy sorrow With calmest courage he was ever ready Than the world's seeming loss could To teach that action was the truth of take away.

thought, To know the heart of all things was his And, with strong arm and purpose firm duty,

and steady, All things did sing to him to make him An anchor for the drifting world he wise,

wrought. And, with a sorrowful and conquering So did he make the meanest man parbeauty,

taker · The soul of all looked grandly from his of all his brother-gods unto him eyes.

gave; He gazed on all within him and without All souls did reverence him and name

him Maker, He watched the flowing of Time’ssteady And when he died heaped temples on tide,

his grave. And shapes of glory floated all about And still his deathless words of light are him

swimining And whispered to him, and he prophe- Serene throughout the great deep in. sied.


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Of human soul, unwaning and undim-1 Who dimly hearest voices call on thee, ming,

| Whose soul is overtilled with mighty To cheer and guide the mariner at throngings night.

Of love, and fear, and glorious agony,

Thou of the toil-strung hands and iron II.

sinews But now the Poet is an empty rhymer

And soul by Mother Earth with freeWho lies with idle elbow on the grass,

dom fed, And fits his singing, like a cunning In whom the hero-spirit yet continues, timer,

The old free nature is not chained or To all men's prides and fancies as they dead, pass.

Arouse ! let thy soul break in musicNot his the song, which, in its metre thunder, holy,

Let loose the ocean that is in thee Chimes with the music of the eternal pent, stars,

Pour forth thy hope, thy fear, thy love, Humbling the tyrant, lifting up the thy wonder, lowly,

And tell the age what all its signs And sending sun through the soul's have meant. prison-bars.

Where'er thy wildered crowd of brethren Maker" no more, — O no! unmaker

jostles, rather,

Where'er there lingers but a shadow of For he unmakes who doth not all put wrong, forth

There still is need of martyrs and aposThe power given freely by our loving

tles, Father

There still are texts for never-dying To show the body's dross, the spirit's song: worth.

From age to age man's still aspiring Awake! great spirit of the ages olden !

spirit Shiver the mists that hide thy starry

Finds wider scope and sees with clearer lyre,

eyes, And let man's soul be yet again beholden And thou in larger measure dost inherit To thee for wings to soar to her desire.

What made thy great forerunners free O, prophesy no more to-morrow's splen

and wise.

| Sit thou enthronëd where the Poet's Be no more shamefaced to speak out

mountain for Truth,

Above the thunder lifts its silent Lay on her altar all the gushings tender, peak, The hope, the fire, the loving faith of And roll thy songs down like a gathering youth!

fountain, 0, prophesy no more the Maker's com- They all may drink and find the rest ing,

they seek. Say not his onward footsteps thou Sing! there shall silence grow in earth canst hear

and heaven, In the dim void, like to the awful hum- A silence of deep awe and wondering; ming

| For, listening gladly, bend the angels, of the great wings of some new-light even, ed sphere !

To hear a mortal like an angel sing. 0, prophesy no more, but be the Poet! This longing was but granted unto

thee That, when all beauty thou shouldst feel Among the toil-worn poor my soul is and know it,

seeking That beauty in its highest thou couldst. For who shall bring the Maker's name be.

to light, O thou who moanest tost with sealike To be the voice of that almighty speaklongings,





Which every age demands to do it. And finds in Love the heart's-blood of right.

his song ;Proprieties our silken bards environ; This, this is he for whom the world is He who would be the tongue of this waiting wide land

To sing the beatings of its mighty Must string his harp with chords of heart, sturdy iron

Too long hath it been patient with the And strike it with a toil-imbrowned

grating hand;

Of scrannel-pipes, and heard it misOne who hath dwelt with Nature well named Art. attended,

To him the smiling soul of man shall Who hath learnt wisdom from her listen, mystic books,

Laying awhile its crown of thorns Whose soul with all her countless lives aside, hath blended,

And once again in every eye shall glisten So that all beauty awes us in his looks ; | The glory of a nature satisfied. Who not with body's waste his soul hath His verse shall have a great commandpampered,

ing motion, Who as the clear northwestern wind is Heaving and swelling with a melody free,

Learnt of the sky, the river, and the Who walks with Form's observances un. ocean, hampered,

And all the pure, majestic things that And follows the One Will obediently; Whose eyes, like windows on a breezy Awake, then, thou ! we pine for thy summit,

great presence Control a lovely prospect every way ; To make us feel the soul once more Who doth not sound God's sea with

sublime, earthly plummet,

We are of far too infinite an essence And find a bottom still of worthless To rest contented with the lies of

Time. Who heeds not how the lower gusts are Speak out ! and lo! a hush of deepest working,

wonder Knowing that one sure wind blows on Shall sink o'er all this many-voiced

scene, And sees, beneath the foulest faces lurk. As when a sudden burst of rattling ing,

thunder One God-built shrine of reverence and Shatters the blueness of a sky sereno.

love ; Who sees all stars that wheel their shin. ing marches

THE FATHERLAND. Around the centre fixed of Destiny, Where the encircling soul serene o'er- / WHERE is the true man's fatherland ? arches

Is it where he by chance is born ? The moving globe of being like a sky; Doth not the yearning spirit scorn Who feels that God and Heaven's great In such scant borders to be spanned ? deeps are nearer

O yes ! his fatherland must be
Him to whose heart his fellow-man is As the blue heaven wide and free!

Who doth not hold his soul's own free- Is it alone where freedom is,
dom dearer

Where God is God and man is man! Than that of all his brethren, low or Doth he not claim a broader span high ;

For the soul's love of home than this ? Who to the Right can feel himself the O yes ! his fatherland must be truer

As the blue heaven wide and free ! For being gently patient with the wrong,

Where'er a human heart doth wear Who sees a brother in the evil-doer, 1 Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves,

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