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Ulysses' chances re-create ?
| That I, by the force of nature,
To this wayward soul of mine.
I know not how others saw her,
But to'me she was wholly fair, Through yonder grove of singing pines ; And the light of the heaven she came At that elm-vista's end I trace
from Dimly thy sad leave-taking face,
Still lingered and gleamed in her hair; Eurydice ? Eurydice!
For it was as wavy and golden, The tremulous leaves repeat to me
And as many changes took, Eurydice ! Eurydice !
As the shadows of sun-gilt ripples No gloomier Orcus swallows thee
On the yellow bed of a brook.
To what can I liken her smiling
Upon me, her kneeling lover,
How it leaped from her lips to her eyeInto an atmosphere whose shine
lids, With fuller day o'ermasters thine,
And dimpled her wholly over,
Till her outstretched hands smiled also, Entering defeat as 't were a shrine; For us, we turn life's diary o'er
And I almost seemed to see To find but one word, - Nevermore.
The very heart of her mother
Sending sun through her veins to me! SHE CAME AND WENT. She had been with us scarce a twelve
month, As a twig trembles, which a bird
And it hardly seemed a day,
But loosed the hampering strings,
The blue dome's measureless content,
But they left in her stead a changeling, As, at one bound, our swift spring heaps
A little angel child, The orchards full of bloom and scent, That seems like her bud in full blossom, So clove her May my wintry sleeps ;
And smiles as she never smiled : I only know she came and went.
When I wake in the morning, I see it An angel stood and met my gaze,
Where she always used to lie, Through the low doorway of my tent;
And I feel as weak as a violet The tent is struck, the vision stays ;
Alone 'neath the awful sky. I only know she came and went.
As weak, yet as trustful also; 0, when the room grows slowly dim,
For the whole year long I see And life's last oil is nearly spent,
All the wonders of faithful Nature One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Still worked for the love of me; Only to think she came and went.
Winds wander, and dews drip earthward,
Rain falls, suns rise and set,
Earth whirls, and all but to prosper THE CHANGELING.
A poor little violet. I HAD a little daughter,
This child is not mine as the first was, And she was given to me
I cannot sing it to rest,
I cannot lift it up fatherly
Yet it lies in my little one's cradle Snatch back the rudder of his undis. And sits in my little one's chair,
mantled fate, And the light of the heaven she's gone to And in himself be ruler, church, and Transfigures its golden hair.
Cast leaves and feathers rot in last THE PIONEER.
The winged brood, flown thence, What man would live coffined with new dwellings plan; brick and stone,
The serf of his own Past is not a Imprisoned from the healing touch of man; air,
To change and change is life, to move And cramped with selfish landmarks and never rest; everywhere,
Not what we are, but what we hope, When all before him stretches, furrow
is best. less and lone, The unmapped prairie none can fence The wild, free woods make no man or own?
halt or blind;
Cities rob men of eyes and hands What man would read and read the and feet, selfsame faces,
Patching one whole of many incomAnd, like the marbles which the
plete; windmill grinds,
The general preys upon the individual Rub smooth forever with the same mind, smooth minds,
And each alone is helpless as the wind. This year retracing last year's, every year's, dull traces,
Each man is some man's servant; When there are woods and un-pen
every soul folded spaces ?
Is by some other's presence quite
discrowned; What man o'er one old thought would Each owes the next through all the pore and pore,
imperfect round, Shut like a book between its covers Yet not with mutual help; each man is thin
his own goal, For every fool to leave his dog's- | And the whole earth must stop to pay ears in,
him toll. When solitude is his, and God forevermore,
Here, life the undiminished man deJust for the opening of a paltry door? mands; What man would watch life's oozy
New faculties stretch out to meet
new wants; element
What Nature asks, that Nature also Creep Letheward forever, when he
| Here man is lord, not drudge, of eyes Down some great river drift beyond
and feet and hands, men's sight, To where the undethronëd forest's royal
And to his life is knit with hourly
bands. tent Broods with its hush o'er half a con- Come out, then, from the old thoughts tinent ?
and old ways,
Before you harden to a crystal cold What man with men would push and Which the new life can shatter, but altercate,
not mould ; Piecing out crooked means to Freedom for you still waits, still, lookcrooked ends,
ing backward, stays, When he can have the skies and But widens still the irretrievable woods for friends,
| There seemed no strength in the dumb
toiler's tears, Of all the myriad moods of mind
No strength in suffering; but the Past That through the soul come thronging,
was strong: Which one was e'er so dear, so kind, The brute despair of trampled centuries So beautiful as Longing ?
Leaped up with one hoarse yell and The thing we long for, that we are
snapped its bands, For one transcendent moment,
Groped for its right with horny, cal. Before the Present poor and bare
lous hands, Can make its sneering comment. And stared around for God with blood.
shot eyes. Still, through our paltry stir and strife, What wonder if those palms were all Glows down the wished Ideal,
too hard And Longing moulds in clay what Life For nice distinctions, - if that mænad Carves in the marble Real ;
throngTo let the new life in, we know,
They whose thick atmosphere no bard Desire must ope the portal;
Had shivered with the lightning of his Perhaps the longing to be so
song, Helps make the soul imunortal.
Brutes with the memories and desires
of men, Longing is God's fresh heavenward will Whose chronicles were writ with iron With our poor earthward striving;
pen, We quench it that we may be still
In the crooked shoulder and the Content with merely living;
forehead low, But, would we learn that heart's full Set wrong to balance wrong, scope
And physicked woe with woe? Which we are hourly wronging, Our lives must climb from hope to hope And realize our longing.
They did as they were taught; not theirs
the blame, Ah! let us hope that to our praise If men who scattered firebrands reaped Good God not only reckons
the flame: The moments when we tread His ways, They trampled Peace beneath their But when the spirit beckons,
savage feet, That some slight good is also wrought And by her golden tresses drew Beyond self-satisfaction,
Mercy along the pavement of the When we are simply good in thought,
street. Howe'er we fail in action.
O Freedom! Freedom! is thy morning
So gory red ? Alas, thy light had ODE TO FRANCE.
Shone in upon the chaos of their FEBRUARY, 1848.
lair! They reared to thee such symbol as they
knew, As, flake by flake, the beetling ava And worshipped it with flame and lanches
blood, Build up their imminent crags of A Vengeance, axe in hand, that noiseless snow,
stood Till some chance thrill the loosened ruin Holding a tyrant's head up by the clotlaunches
. ted hair. In unwarned havoc on the roofs be
II. So grew and gathered through the silent What wrongs the Oppressor suffered, years
these we know; The madness of a People, wrong by These have found piteous voice in song wrong.
But for the Oppressed, their darkness And twined with golden threads his and their woe,
him ran ;
| Sunrise whose Memnon is the soul of Hardening a people's heart to senseless
drank their tears,
4) A dynasty plucked out as 't were a They noted down their fetters, link by
Grown rankly in a night, that leaves link ; Coarse was the hand that scrawled, and
Could eighteen years strike down no red the ink ;
deeper root ? Rude was their score, as suits unlet
But now thy vulture eye was turned tered men, Notched with a headsman's axe upon
A shout from Paris, and thy crown falls a block : What marvel if, when came the aveng.
Thy race has ceased to reign, ing shock, "T was Atë. not Urania. held the And thou become a fugitive and scoff :
Slippery the feet that mount by stairs pen?
of gold, And weakest of all fences one of steel;
| Go and keep school again like him of With eye averted, and an anguished 40
| The Syracusan tyrant ; -- thou mayst
feel scenes of strife,
Royal amid a birch-swayed commonweal !
Not long can he be ruler who allows Slow are the steps of Freedom, but her! His time to run before him; thou feet
wast naught Turn never backward : hers no bloody Soon as the strip of gold about thy brows glare ;
Was no more emblem of the People's Her light is calm, and innocent, and
thought : sweet,
Vain were thy bayonets against the foe And where it enters there is no de- Thou hadst to cope with ; thou didst spair:
wage Not first on palace and cathedral spire War not with Frenchmen merely ; -no, Quivers and gleams that unconsuming
Thy strife was with the Spirit of the fire ;
Age, While these stand black against her The invisible Spirit whose first breath morning skies,
divine The peasant sees it leap from peak to
Scattered thy frail endeavor, peak
And, like poor last year's leaves, Along his hills ; the craftsman's burn
whirled thee and thine
Into the Dark forever!
though Ah ! while the tyrant deemed it still The yellow blood of Trade meanwhile afar,
Along its arteries a shrunken flow, I Rain, lark-like, her fancies, And the idle canvas droop around the His dreaming hands wander shore ?
Mid heart's-ease and pansies ; These do not make a state,
"'Tis a dream ! 'T is a vision !" Nor keep it great ;
Shrieks Mammon aghast;
“ The day's broad derision
Will chase it at last; And where each humblest human crea
Ye are mad, ye have taken ture
A slumbering kraken Can stand, no more suspicious or afraid,
For firm land of the Past !” Erect and kingly in his right of nature, Ah! if he awaken, To heaven and earth knit with harmo
God shield us all then, nious ties, –
If this dream rudely shaken
Shall cheat him again !
Since first I saw Atlantic throw
On our grim rocks his thunderous
snow, Is the least part of France ;
I loved thee, Freedom ; as a boy I see her rather in the soul whose shine
| The rattle of thy shield at Marathon • Burns through the craftsman's grimy
Did with a Grecian joy countenance,
Through all my pulses run ; In the new energy divine
But I have learned to love thee now Of Toil's enfranchised glance.
Without the helm upon thy gleaming
A maiden mild and undefiled
Like her who bore the world's redeem-
ing child; 'Neath a new mask, which drops and
And surely wever did thine altars shows at last
glance The same weird, mocking face to balk With purer fires than now in France; and blast,
While, in their clear white flashes, Yet, Muse, a gladder measure suits the
Wrong's shadow, backward cast, theme,
Waves cowering o'er the ashes And the Tyrtæan harp
Of the dead, blaspheming Past, Loves notes more resolute and
O'er the shapes of fallen giants, sharp,
His own unburied brood, Throbbing, as throbs the bosom, hot
Whose dead hands clench defiance
At the overpowering Good :
And down the happy future runs a flood
Of prophesying light; The dreams which nations dream come It shows an Earth no longer stained true,
with blood, And shape the world anew;
| Blossom and fruit where now we see the If this be a sleep,
PRAISEST Law, friend ? We, too, love it
much as they that love it best; His thoughts in the dawn; / 'T is the deep, august foundation, where. He heareth Hope yonder
on Peace and Justice rest;