Till something without me or within, THE WATERFALL. YE mighty waters, that have join'd your forces, Who may retrace the ways that ye have taken, Through thousand, thousand paths have ye been roaming, In earth and air, who now each other urge Some in the lowering cloud a while were centred, Others, to light that beam'd upon the fountain, And many a flower that bow'd beside the river, Thus from the veins, through earth's dark bosom pouring, Many have flow'd in tributary streams; Some, in the bow that bent, the sun adoring, Have shone in colours borrow'd from his beams. But He who holds the ocean in the hollow We are, like you, in mighty torrents mingled, come. Those who have here adored the Sun of heaven, And shown the world their brightness drawn from him, Again before him, though their hues be seven, We bless the promise, as we thus are tending THE DREAM. I DREAM'D, and 'twas a lovely, blessed dream, I was a child again: I roam'd anew About my early haunts, and saw the whole That fades, with waking memory, from the view Of this mysterious thing we call the soul. A very child, again beside the brook, And oh! that cooling draught I still can taste, All was restored, as in the sunny day When I believed my little rural ground And she-who was my sister then, but now And bathe in glory, veil'd from all below— Yes, she was there; who, with her riper years, Once walk'd, the guardian of my infant feet; Drew from my hand the thorn, wiped off my tears, And brought fresh flowers to deck our grassy seat. I saw her cheek with life's warm current flush'd; All I have been and known, in all the years "Twas this that made my dream so bless'd and bright, And me the careless thing that I was then : Yet, Time, I would not now reverse thy flight, And risk the running of my race again. The fairest joys that struck their roots in earth, I would not rear again to bloom and fade! I've had then once in their ideal worth; Their height I've measured, and their substance weigh'd. Nor those who sleep in peace would I awake, And yet I love my dream: 'twas very sweet Whene'er I think of it, the warm tears roll, Thy nature, power, or purpose, who can speak! THE CHILD ON THE BEACH. MARY, a beautiful, artless child, Came down on the beach to me, I never had seen her face before, But we each rejoiced on that peaceful shore Her cheek was the rose's opening bud, Her eyes were bright, as the stars that stud To reach my side as she gayly sped, With the love of a holier world than this, While the glad young spirit look'd out with bliss Her soul seem'd spreading the scene to span, And longing for power to look the plan Of the universe fairly through. She climb'd and stood on the rocky steep, Far over the waves, where the broad, blue deep She placed her lips to the spiral shell, She look'd for the depth of its pearly cell, Her small white fingers were spread to toss She ran them along. in the purple moss, And over the sparkling sand. The green sea-egg, by its tenant left, And form'd to an ocean cup, She held by its sides, of their spears bereft, But the hour went round, and she knew the space While she seem'd to look with a saddening face On all she must leave behind. |