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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12843-0.txt b/12843-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a043fe --- /dev/null +++ b/12843-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12262 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 *** + +POEMS + +BY + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + +_HOUSEHOLD EDITION_ + + +1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, +published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:-- + +"This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS and +MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876, Mr. Emerson published a selection +from his Poems, adding six new ones and omitting many[1]. Of those +omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the expressed +wishes of many readers and lovers of them. Also some pieces never +before published are here given in an Appendix; on various grounds. +Some of them appear to have had Mr. Emerson's approval, but to have +been withheld because they were unfinished. These it seemed best not to +suppress, now that they can never receive their completion. Others, +mostly of an early date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of +their personal and private nature. Some of these seem to have an +autobiographic interest sufficient to justify their publication. Others +again, often mere fragments, have been admitted as characteristic, or +as expressing in poetic form thoughts found in the Essays. + + [1] _Selected Poems_: Little Classic Edition. + +"In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole, +preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the +opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of +Time. + +"As was stated in the preface to the first volume of this edition of +Mr. Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the Selected +Poems have not always been followed here, but in some cases preference +has been given to corrections made by him when he was in fuller +strength than at the time of the last revision. + +"A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of 'May-Day,' in the part +representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as +bringing them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + +In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the _Poems_, Mr. Cabot +very considerately took the present editor into counsel (as +representing Mr. Emerson's family), who at that time in turn took +counsel with several persons of taste and mature judgment with regard +especially to the admission of poems hitherto unpublished and of +fragments that seemed interested and pleasing. Mr. Cabot and he were +entirely in accord with regard to the Riverside Edition. In the present +edition, the substance of the Riverside Edition has been preserved, +with hardly an exception, although some poems and fragments have been +added. None of the poems therein printed have been omitted. "The +House," which appeared in the first volume of _Poems_, and "Nemesis," +"Una," "Love and Thought" and "Merlin's Songs," from the _May-Day_ +volume, have been restored. To the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. +Emerson printed as "Elements" in _May-Day_, most of the others have +been added. Following Mr. Emerson's precedent of giving his brother +Edward's "Last Farewell" a place beside the poem in his memory, two +pleasing poems by Ellen Tucker, his first wife, which he published in +the _Dial_, have been placed with his own poems relating to her. The +publication in the last edition of some poems that Mr. Emerson had long +kept by him, but had never quite been ready to print, and of various +fragments on Poetry, Nature and Life, was not done without advice and +careful consideration, and then was felt to be perhaps a rash +experiment. The continued interest which has been shown in the author's +thought and methods and life--for these unfinished pieces contain much +autobiography--has made the present editor feel it justifiable to keep +almost all of these and to add a few. Their order has been slightly +altered. + +A few poems from the verse-books sufficiently complete to have a title +are printed in the Appendix for the first time: "Insight," "September," +"October," "Hymn" and "Riches." + +After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, +and printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of +them taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never +printed before. They are for the most part journals in verse covering +the period of his school-teaching, study for the ministry and exercise +of that office, his sickness, bereavement, travel abroad and return to +the new life. This sad period of probation is illuminated by the +episode of his first love. Not for their poetical merit, except in +flashes, but for the light they throw on the growth of his thought and +character are they included. + +In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued +with regard to his own poems. + + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +March 12, 1904. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +POEMS + +GOOD-BYE +EACH AND ALL +THE PROBLEM +TO RHEA +THE VISIT +URIEL +THE WORLD-SOUL +THE SPHINX +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE +MITHRIDATES +TO J.W. +DESTINY +GUY +HAMATREYA +THE RHODORA +THE HUMBLE-BEE +BERRYING +THE SNOW-STORM +WOODNOTES I +WOODNOTES II +MONADNOC +FABLE +ODE +ASTRAEA +ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE +COMPENSATION +FORBEARANCE +THE PARK +FORERUNNERS +SURSUM CORDA +ODE TO BEAUTY +GIVE ALL TO LOVE +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH +TO ELLEN +TO EVA +LINES +THE VIOLET +THE AMULET +THINE EYES STILL SHINED +EROS +HERMIONE +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE +THE APOLOGY +MERLIN I +MERLIN II +BACCHUS +MEROPS +THE HOUSE +SAADI +HOLIDAYS +XENOPHANES +THE DAY'S RATION +BLIGHT +MUSKETAQUID +DIRGE +THRENODY +CONCORD HYMN + + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + +MAY-DAY +THE ADIRONDACS +BRAHMA +NEMESIS +FATE +FREEDOM +ODE +BOSTON HYMN +VOLUNTARIES +LOVE AND THOUGHT +UNA +BOSTON +LETTERS +RUBIES +MERLIN'S SONG +THE TEST +SOLUTION +HYMN +NATURE I +NATURE II +THE ROMANY GIRL +DAYS +MY GARDEN +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT +THE TITMOUSE +THE HARP +SEASHORE +SONG OF NATURE +TWO RIVERS +WALDEINSAMKEIT +TERMINUS +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION +APRIL +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP +CUPIDO +THE PAST +THE LAST FAREWELL +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + +EXPERIENCE +COMPENSATION +POLITICS +HEROISM +CHARACTER +CULTURE +FRIENDSHIP +SPIRITUAL LAWS +BEAUTY +MANNERS +ART +UNITY +WORSHIP +PRUDENCE +NATURE +THE INFORMING SPIRIT +CIRCLES +INTELLECT +GIFTS +PROMISE +CARITAS +POWER +WEALTH +ILLUSIONS + + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +QUATRAINS +TRANSLATIONS + + +APPENDIX + +THE POET +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + NATURE + LIFE +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN +GRACE +INSIGHT +PAN +MONADNOC FROM AFAR +SEPTEMBER +EROS +OCTOBER +PETER'S FIELD +MUSIC +THE WALK +COSMOS +THE MIRACLE +THE WATERFALL +WALDEN +THE ENCHANTER +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE +RICHES +PHILOSOPHER +INTELLECT +LIMITS +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR +THE EXILE + + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +THE BELL +THOUGHT +PRAYER +TO-DAY +FAME +THE SUMMONS +THE RIVER +GOOD HOPE +LINES TO ELLEN +SECURITY +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE +A LETTER +HYMN +SELF-RELIANCE +WRITTEN IN NAPLES +WRITTEN AT ROME +WEBSTER + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + * * * * * + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +The Emersons first appeared in the north of England, but Thomas, who +landed in Massachusetts in 1638, came from Hertfordshire. He built soon +after a house, sometimes railed the Saint's Rest, which still stands in +Ipswich on the slope of Heart-break Hill, close by Labour-in-vain Creek. +Ralph Waldo Emerson was the sixth in descent from him. He was born in +Boston, in Summer Street, May 25, 1803. He was the third son of William +Emerson, the minister of the First Church in Boston, whose father, +William Emerson, had been the patriotic minister of Concord at the +outbreak of the Revolution, and died a chaplain in the army. Ruth +Haskins, the mother of Ralph Waldo Emerson, was left a widow in 1811, +with a family of five little boys. The taste of these boys was +scholarly, and four of them went through the Latin School to Harvard +College, and graduated there. Their mother was a person of great +sweetness, dignity, and piety, bringing up her sons wisely and well in +very straitened circumstances, and loved by them. Her husband's +stepfather, Rev. Dr. Ripley of Concord, helped her, and constantly +invited the boys to the Old Manse, so that the woods and fields along +the Concord River were first a playground and then the background of the +dreams of their awakening imaginations. + +Born in the city, Emerson's young mind first found delight in poems and +classic prose, to which his instincts led him as naturally as another +boy's would to go fishing, but his vacations in the country supplemented +these by giving him great and increasing love of nature. In his early +poems classic imagery is woven into pictures of New England woodlands. +Even as a little boy he had the habit of attempting flights of verse, +stimulated by Milton, Pope, or Scott, and he and his mates took pleasure +in declaiming to each other in barns and attics. He was so full of +thoughts and fancies that he sought the pen instinctively, to jot them +down. + +At college Emerson did not shine as a scholar, though he won prizes for +essays and declamations, being especially unfitted for mathematical +studies, and enjoying the classics rather in a literary than grammatical +way. And yet it is doubtful whether any man in his class used his time +to better purpose with reference to his after life, for young Emerson's +instinct led him to wide reading of works, outside the curriculum, that +spoke directly to him. He had already formed the habit of writing in a +journal, not the facts but the thoughts and inspirations of the day; +often, also, good stories or poetical quotations, and scraps of his own +verse. + +On graduation from Harvard in the class of 1821, following the +traditions of his family, Emerson resolved to study to be a minister, +and meantime helped his older brother William in the support of the +family by teaching in a school for young ladies in Boston, that the +former had successfully established. The principal was twenty-one and +the assistant nineteen years of age. For school-teaching on the usual +lines Emerson was not fitted, and his youth and shyness prevented him +from imparting his best gifts to his scholars. Years later, when, in his +age, his old scholars assembled to greet him, he regretted that no hint +had been brought into the school of what at that very time "I was +writing every night in my chamber, my first thoughts on morals and the +beautiful laws of compensation, and of individual genius, which to +observe and illustrate have given sweetness to many years of my life." +Yet many scholars remembered his presence and teaching with pleasure and +gratitude, not only in Boston, but in Chelmsford and Roxbury, for while +his younger brothers were in college it was necessary that he should +help. In these years, as through all his youth, he was loved, spurred on +in his intellectual life, and keenly criticised by his aunt, Mary Moody +Emerson, an eager and wide reader, inspired by religious zeal, +high-minded, but eccentric. + +The health of the young teacher suffered from too ascetic a life, and +unmistakable danger-signals began to appear, fortunately heeded in time, +but disappointment and delay resulted, borne, however, with sense and +courage. His course at the Divinity School in Cambridge was much broken; +nevertheless, in October, 1826, he was "approbated to preach" by the +Middlesex Association of Ministers. A winter at the North at this time +threatened to prove fatal, so he was sent South by his helpful kinsman, +Rev. Samuel Ripley, and passed the winter in Florida with benefit, +working northward in the spring, preaching in the cities, and resumed +his studies at Cambridge. + +In 1829, Emerson was called by the Second or Old North Church in Boston +to become the associate pastor with Rev. Henry Ware, and soon after, +because of his senior's delicate health, was called on to assume the +full duty. Theological dogmas, such as the Unitarian Church of +Channing's day accepted, did not appeal to Emerson, nor did the +supernatural in religion in its ordinary acceptation interest him. The +omnipresence of spirit, the dignity of man, the daily miracle of the +universe, were what he taught, and while the older members of the +congregation may have been disquieted that he did not dwell on revealed +religion, his words reached the young people, stirred thought, and +awakened aspiration. At this time he lived with his mother and his young +wife (Ellen Tucker) in Chardon Street. For three years he ministered to +his people in Boston. Then having felt the shock of being obliged to +conform to church usage, as stated prayer when the spirit did not move, +and especially the administration of the Communion, he honestly laid his +troubles before his people, and proposed to them some modification of +this rite. While they considered his proposition, Emerson went into the +White Mountains to weigh his conflicting duties to his church and +conscience. He came down, bravely to meet the refusal of the church to +change the rite, and in a sermon preached in September, 1832, explained +his objections to it, and, because he could not honestly administer it, +resigned. + +He parted from his people in all kindness, but the wrench was felt. His +wife had recently died, he was ill himself, his life seemed to others +broken up. But meantime voices from far away had reached him. He sailed +for Europe, landed in Italy, saw cities, and art, and men, but would not +stay long. Of the dead, Michael Angelo appealed chiefly to him there; +Landor among the living. He soon passed northward, making little stay in +Paris, but sought out Carlyle, then hardly recognized, and living in the +lonely hills of the Scottish Border. There began a friendship which had +great influence on the lives of both men, and lasted through life. He +also visited Wordsworth. But the new life before him called him home. + +He landed at Boston within the year in good health and hope, and joined +his mother and youngest brother Charles in Newton. Frequent invitations +to preach still came, and were accepted, and he even was sounded as to +succeeding Dr. Dewey in the church at New Bedford; but, as he stipulated +for freedom from ceremonial, this came to nothing. + +In the autumn of 1834 he moved to Concord, living with his kinsman, Dr. +Ripley, at the Manse, but soon bought house and land on the Boston Road, +on the edge of the village towards Walden woods. Thither, in the autumn, +he brought his wife. Miss Lidian Jackson, of Plymouth, and this was +their home during the rest of their lives. + +The new life to which he had been called opened pleasantly and increased +in happiness and opportunity, except for the sadness of bereavements, +for, in the first few years, his brilliant brothers Edward and Charles +died, and soon afterward Waldo, his firstborn son, and later his mother. +Emerson had left traditional religion, the city, the Old World, behind, +and now went to Nature as his teacher, his inspiration. His first book, +"Nature," which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here, +and published in 1836. His practice during all his life in Concord was +to go alone to the woods almost daily, sometimes to wait there for +hours, and, when thus attuned, to receive the message to which he was to +give voice. Though it might be colored by him in transmission, he held +that the light was universal. + + "Ever the words of the Gods resound, + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear." + +But he resorted, also, to the books of those who had handed down the +oracles truly, and was quick to find the message destined for him. Men, +too, he studied eagerly, the humblest and the highest, regretting always +that the brand of the scholar on him often silenced the men of shop and +office where he came. He was everywhere a learner, expecting light from +the youngest and least educated visitor. The thoughts combined with the +flower of his reading were gradually grouped into lectures, and his main +occupation through life was reading these to who would hear, at first in +courses in Boston, but later all over the country, for the Lyceum sprang +up in New England in these years in every town, and spread westward to +the new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. His winters were spent +in these rough, but to him interesting journeys, for he loved to watch +the growth of the Republic in which he had faith, and his summers were +spent in study and writing. These lectures were later severely pruned +and revised, and the best of them gathered into seven volumes of essays +under different names between 1841 and 1876. The courses in Boston, +which at first were given in the Masonic Temple, were always well +attended by earnest and thoughtful people. The young, whether in years +or in spirit, were always and to the end his audience of the spoken or +written word. The freedom of the Lyceum platform pleased Emerson. He +found that people would hear on Wednesday with approval and +unsuspectingly doctrines from which on Sunday they felt officially +obliged to dissent. + +Mr. Lowell, in his essays, has spoken of these early lectures and what +they were worth to him and others suffering from the generous discontent +of youth with things as they were. Emerson used to say, "My strength and +my doom is to be solitary;" but to a retired scholar a wholesome offset +to this was the travelling and lecturing in cities and in raw frontier +towns, bringing him into touch with the people, and this he knew and +valued. + +In 1837 Emerson gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration in Cambridge, The +American Scholar, which increased his growing reputation, but the +following year his Address to the Senior Class at the Divinity School +brought out, even from the friendly Unitarians, severe strictures and +warnings against its dangerous doctrines. Of this heresy Emerson said: +"I deny personality to God because it is too little, not too much." He +really strove to elevate the idea of God. Yet those who were pained or +shocked by his teachings respected Emerson. His lectures were still in +demand; he was often asked to speak by literary societies at orthodox +colleges. He preached regularly at East Lexington until 1838, but +thereafter withdrew from the ministerial office. At this time the +progressive and spiritually minded young people used to meet for +discussion and help in Boston, among them George Ripley, Cyrus Bartol, +James Freeman Clarke, Alcott, Dr. Hedge, Margaret Fuller, and Elizabeth +Peabody. Perhaps from this gathering of friends, which Emerson attended, +came what is called the Transcendental Movement, two results of which +were the Brook Farm Community and the Dial magazine, in which last +Emerson took great interest, and was for the time an editor. Many of +these friends were frequent visitors in Concord. Alcott moved thither +after the breaking up of his school. Hawthorne also came to dwell there. +Henry Thoreau, a Concord youth, greatly interested Emerson; indeed, +became for a year or two a valued inmate of his home, and helped and +instructed him in the labors of the garden and little farm, which +gradually grew to ten acres, the chief interest of which for the owner +was his trees, which he loved and tended. Emerson helped introduce his +countrymen to the teachings of Carlyle, and edited his works here, where +they found more readers than at home. + +In 1847 Emerson was invited to read lectures in England, and remained +abroad a year, visiting France also in her troublous times. English +Traits was a result. Just before this journey he had collected and +published his poems. A later volume, called May Day, followed in 1867. +He had written verses from childhood, and to the purified expression of +poetry he, through life, eagerly aspired. He said, "I like my poems +best because it is not I who write them." In 1866 the degree of Doctor +of Laws was conferred on him by Harvard University, and he was chosen an +Overseer. In 1867 he again gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration, and in 1870 +and 1871 gave courses in Philosophy in the University Lectures at +Cambridge. + +Emerson was not merely a man of letters. He recognized and did the +private and public duties of the hour. He exercised a wide hospitality +to souls as well as bodies. Eager youths came to him for rules, and went +away with light. Reformers, wise and unwise, came to him, and were +kindly received. They were often disappointed that they could not +harness him to their partial and transient scheme. He said, My reforms +include theirs: I must go my way; help people by my strength, not by my +weakness. But if a storm threatened, he felt bound to appear and show +his colors. Against the crying evils of his time he worked bravely in +his own way. He wrote to President Van Buren against the wrong done to +the Cherokees, dared speak against the idolized Webster, when he +deserted the cause of Freedom, constantly spoke of the iniquity of +slavery, aided with speech and money the Free State cause in Kansas, +was at Phillips's side at the antislavery meeting in 1861 broken up by +the Boston mob, urged emancipation during the war. + +He enjoyed his Concord home and neighbors, served on the school +committee for years, did much for the Lyceum, and spoke on the town's +great occasions. He went to all town-meetings, oftener to listen and +admire than to speak, and always took pleasure and pride in the people. +In return he was respected and loved by them. + +Emerson's house was destroyed by fire in 1872, and the incident exposure +and fatigue did him harm. His many friends insisted on rebuilding his +house and sending him abroad to get well. He went up the Nile, and +revisited England, finding old and new friends, and, on his return, was +welcomed and escorted home by the people of Concord. After this time he +was unable to write. His old age was quiet and happy among his family +and friends. He died in April, 1882. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +January, 1899. + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +POEMS + + * * * * * + + + +GOOD-BYE + +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: +Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. +Long through thy weary crowds I roam; +A river-ark on the ocean brine, +Long I've been tossed like the driven foam: +But now, proud world! I'm going home. + +Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; +To Grandeur with his wise grimace; +To upstart Wealth's averted eye; +To supple Office, low and high; +To crowded halls, to court and street; +To frozen hearts and hasting feet; +To those who go, and those who come; +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home. + +I am going to my own hearth-stone, +Bosomed in yon green hills alone,-- +secret nook in a pleasant land, +Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; +Where arches green, the livelong day, +Echo the blackbird's roundelay, +And vulgar feet have never trod +A spot that is sacred to thought and God. + +O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, +I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; +And when I am stretched beneath the pines, +Where the evening star so holy shines, +I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, +At the sophist schools and the learned clan; +For what are they all, in their high conceit, +When man in the bush with God may meet? + + + +EACH AND ALL + +Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown +Of thee from the hill-top looking down; +The heifer that lows in the upland farm, +Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; +The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, +Deems not that great Napoleon +Stops his horse, and lists with delight, +Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; +Nor knowest thou what argument +Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. +All are needed by each one; +Nothing is fair or good alone. +I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, +Singing at dawn on the alder bough; +I brought him home, in his nest, at even; +He sings the song, but it cheers not now, +For I did not bring home the river and sky;-- +He sang to my ear,--they sang to my eye. +The delicate shells lay on the shore; +The bubbles of the latest wave +Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, +And the bellowing of the savage sea +Greeted their safe escape to me. +I wiped away the weeds and foam, +I fetched my sea-born treasures home; +But the poor, unsightly, noisome things +Had left their beauty on the shore +With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. +The lover watched his graceful maid, +As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, +Nor knew her beauty's best attire +Was woven still by the snow-white choir. +At last she came to his hermitage, +Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;-- +The gay enchantment was undone, +A gentle wife, but fairy none. +Then I said, 'I covet truth; +Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; +I leave it behind with the games of youth:'-- +As I spoke, beneath my feet +The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, +Running over the club-moss burrs; +I inhaled the violet's breath; +Around me stood the oaks and firs; +Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; +Over me soared the eternal sky. +Full of light and of deity; +Again I saw, again I heard, +The rolling river, the morning bird;-- +Beauty through my senses stole; +I yielded myself to the perfect whole. + + + +THE PROBLEM + +I like a church; I like a cowl; +I love a prophet of the soul; +And on my heart monastic aisles +Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles +Yet not for all his faith can see +Would I that cowlèd churchman be. + +Why should the vest on him allure, +Which I could not on me endure? + +Not from a vain or shallow thought +His awful Jove young Phidias brought; +Never from lips of cunning fell +The thrilling Delphic oracle; +Out from the heart of nature rolled +The burdens of the Bible old; +The litanies of nations came, +Like the volcano's tongue of flame, +Up from the burning core below,-- +The canticles of love and woe: +The hand that rounded Peter's dome +And groined the aisles of Christian Rome +Wrought in a sad sincerity; +Himself from God he could not free; +He builded better than he knew;-- +The conscious stone to beauty grew. + +Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest +Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? +Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, +Painting with morn each annual cell? +Or how the sacred pine-tree adds +To her old leaves new myriads? +Such and so grew these holy piles, +Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. +Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, +As the best gem upon her zone, +And Morning opes with haste her lids +To gaze upon the Pyramids; +O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, +As on its friends, with kindred eye; +For out of Thought's interior sphere +These wonders rose to upper air; +And Nature gladly gave them place, +Adopted them into her race, +And granted them an equal date +With Andes and with Ararat. + +These temples grew as grows the grass; +Art might obey, but not surpass. +The passive Master lent his hand +To the vast soul that o'er him planned; +And the same power that reared the shrine +Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. +Ever the fiery Pentecost +Girds with one flame the countless host, +Trances the heart through chanting choirs, +And through the priest the mind inspires. +The word unto the prophet spoken +Was writ on tables yet unbroken; +The word by seers or sibyls told, +In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, +Still floats upon the morning wind, +Still whispers to the willing mind. +One accent of the Holy Ghost +The heedless world hath never lost. +I know what say the fathers wise,-- +The Book itself before me lies, +Old _Chrysostom_, best Augustine, +And he who blent both in his line, +The younger _Golden Lips_ or mines, +Taylor, the Shakspeare of divines. +His words are music in my ear, +I see his cowlèd portrait dear; +And yet, for all his faith could see, +I would not the good bishop be. + + + +TO RHEA + +Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes, +Not with flatteries, but truths, +Which tarnish not, but purify +To light which dims the morning's eye. +I have come from the spring-woods, +From the fragrant solitudes;-- +Listen what the poplar-tree +And murmuring waters counselled me. + +If with love thy heart has burned; +If thy love is unreturned; +Hide thy grief within thy breast, +Though it tear thee unexpressed; +For when love has once departed +From the eyes of the false-hearted, +And one by one has torn off quite +The bandages of purple light; +Though thou wert the loveliest +Form the soul had ever dressed, +Thou shalt seem, in each reply, +A vixen to his altered eye; +Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, +Thy praying lute will seem to scold; +Though thou kept the straightest road, +Yet thou errest far and broad. + +But thou shalt do as do the gods +In their cloudless periods; +For of this lore be thou sure,-- +Though thou forget, the gods, secure, +Forget never their command, +But make the statute of this land. +As they lead, so follow all, +Ever have done, ever shall. +Warning to the blind and deaf, +'T is written on the iron leaf, +_Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup_ +_Loveth downward, and not up;_ +He who loves, of gods or men, +Shall not by the same be loved again; +His sweetheart's idolatry +Falls, in turn, a new degree. +When a god is once beguiled +By beauty of a mortal child +And by her radiant youth delighted, +He is not fooled, but warily knoweth +His love shall never be requited. +And thus the wise Immortal doeth,-- +'T is his study and delight +To bless that creature day and night; +From all evils to defend her; +In her lap to pour all splendor; +To ransack earth for riches rare, +And fetch her stars to deck her hair: +He mixes music with her thoughts, +And saddens her with heavenly doubts: +All grace, all good his great heart knows, +Profuse in love, the king bestows, +Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air! +This monument of my despair +Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair. +Not for a private good, +But I, from my beatitude, +Albeit scorned as none was scorned, +Adorn her as was none adorned. +I make this maiden an ensample +To Nature, through her kingdoms ample, +Whereby to model newer races, +Statelier forms and fairer faces; +To carry man to new degrees +Of power and of comeliness. +These presents be the hostages +Which I pawn for my release. +See to thyself, O Universe! +Thou art better, and not worse.'-- +And the god, having given all, +Is freed forever from his thrall. + + + +THE VISIT + +Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' +Devastator of the day! +Know, each substance and relation, +Thorough nature's operation, +Hath its unit, bound and metre; +And every new compound +Is some product and repeater,-- +Product of the earlier found. +But the unit of the visit, +The encounter of the wise,-- +Say, what other metre is it +Than the meeting of the eyes? +Nature poureth into nature +Through the channels of that feature, +Riding on the ray of sight, +Fleeter far than whirlwinds go, +Or for service, or delight, +Hearts to hearts their meaning show, +Sum their long experience, +And import intelligence. +Single look has drained the breast; +Single moment years confessed. +The duration of a glance +Is the term of convenance, +And, though thy rede be church or state, +Frugal multiples of that. +Speeding Saturn cannot halt; +Linger,--thou shalt rue the fault: +If Love his moment overstay, +Hatred's swift repulsions play. + + + +URIEL + +It fell in the ancient periods + Which the brooding soul surveys, +Or ever the wild Time coined itself + Into calendar months and days. + +This was the lapse of Uriel, +Which in Paradise befell. +Once, among the Pleiads walking, +Seyd overheard the young gods talking; +And the treason, too long pent, +To his ears was evident. +The young deities discussed +Laws of form, and metre just, +Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, +What subsisteth, and what seems. +One, with low tones that decide, +And doubt and reverend use defied, +With a look that solved the sphere, +And stirred the devils everywhere, +Gave his sentiment divine +Against the being of a line. +'Line in nature is not found; +Unit and universe are round; +In vain produced, all rays return; +Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' +As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, +A shudder ran around the sky; +The stern old war-gods shook their heads, +The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; +Seemed to the holy festival +The rash word boded ill to all; +The balance-beam of Fate was bent; +The bounds of good and ill were rent; +Strong Hades could not keep his own, +But all slid to confusion. + +A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell +On the beauty of Uriel; +In heaven once eminent, the god +Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; +Whether doomed to long gyration +In the sea of generation, +Or by knowledge grown too bright +To hit the nerve of feebler sight. +Straightway, a forgetting wind +Stole over the celestial kind, +And their lips the secret kept, +If in ashes the fire-seed slept. +But now and then, truth-speaking things +Shamed the angels' veiling wings; +And, shrilling from the solar course, +Or from fruit of chemic force, +Procession of a soul in matter, +Or the speeding change of water, +Or out of the good of evil born, +Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, +And a blush tinged the upper sky, +And the gods shook, they knew not why. + + + +THE WORLD-SOUL + +Thanks to the morning light, + Thanks to the foaming sea, +To the uplands of New Hampshire, + To the green-haired forest free; +Thanks to each man of courage, + To the maids of holy mind, +To the boy with his games undaunted + Who never looks behind. + +Cities of proud hotels, + Houses of rich and great, +Vice nestles in your chambers, + Beneath your roofs of slate. +It cannot conquer folly,-- + Time-and-space-conquering steam,-- +And the light-outspeeding telegraph + Bears nothing on its beam. + +The politics are base; + The letters do not cheer; +And 'tis far in the deeps of history, + The voice that speaketh clear. +Trade and the streets ensnare us, + Our bodies are weak and worn; +We plot and corrupt each other, + And we despoil the unborn. + +Yet there in the parlor sits + Some figure of noble guise,-- +Our angel, in a stranger's form, + Or woman's pleading eyes; +Or only a flashing sunbeam + In at the window-pane; +Or Music pours on mortals + Its beautiful disdain. + +The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be; +And be sure the all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. +Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky between the walls, +Hold all the hidden wonders + In scanty intervals. + +Alas! the Sprite that haunts us + Deceives our rash desire; +It whispers of the glorious gods, + And leaves us in the mire. +We cannot learn the cipher + That's writ upon our cell; +Stars taunt us by a mystery + Which we could never spell. + +If but one hero knew it, + The world would blush in flame; +The sage, till he hit the secret, + Would hang his head for shame. +Our brothers have not read it, + Not one has found the key; +And henceforth we are comforted,-- + We are but such as they. + +Still, still the secret presses; + The nearing clouds draw down; +The crimson morning flames into + The fopperies of the town. +Within, without the idle earth, + Stars weave eternal rings; +The sun himself shines heartily, + And shares the joy he brings. + +And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, +And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o'er?-- +They are but sailing foam-bells + Along Thought's causing stream, +And take their shape and sun-color + From him that sends the dream. + +For Destiny never swerves + Nor yields to men the helm; +He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves, + Throughout the solid realm. +The patient Daemon sits, + With roses and a shroud; +He has his way, and deals his gifts,-- + But ours is not allowed. + +He is no churl nor trifler, + And his viceroy is none,-- +Love-without-weakness,-- + Of Genius sire and son. +And his will is not thwarted; + The seeds of land and sea +Are the atoms of his body bright, + And his behest obey. + +He serveth the servant, + The brave he loves amain; +He kills the cripple and the sick, + And straight begins again; +For gods delight in gods, + And thrust the weak aside; +To him who scorns their charities + Their arms fly open wide. + +When the old world is sterile + And the ages are effete, +He will from wrecks and sediment + The fairer world complete. +He forbids to despair; + His cheeks mantle with mirth; +And the unimagined good of men + Is yeaning at the birth. + +Spring still makes spring in the mind + When sixty years are told; +Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, + And we are never old; +Over the winter glaciers + I see the summer glow, +And through the wild-piled snow-drift + The warm rosebuds below. + + + +THE SPHINX + +The Sphinx is drowsy, + Her wings are furled: +Her ear is heavy, + She broods on the world. +"Who'll tell me my secret, + The ages have kept?-- +I awaited the seer + While they slumbered and slept:-- + +"The fate of the man-child, + The meaning of man; +Known fruit of the unknown; + Daedalian plan; +Out of sleeping a waking, + Out of waking a sleep; +Life death overtaking; + Deep underneath deep? + +"Erect as a sunbeam, + Upspringeth the palm; +The elephant browses, + Undaunted and calm; +In beautiful motion + The thrush plies his wings; +Kind leaves of his covert, + Your silence he sings. + +"The waves, unashamèd, + In difference sweet, +Play glad with the breezes, + Old playfellows meet; +The journeying atoms, + Primordial wholes, +Firmly draw, firmly drive, + By their animate poles. + +"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. + Plant, quadruped, bird, +By one music enchanted, + One deity stirred,-- +Each the other adorning, + Accompany still; +Night veileth the morning, + The vapor the hill. + +"The babe by its mother + Lies bathèd in joy; +Glide its hours uncounted,-- + The sun is its toy; +Shines the peace of all being, + Without cloud, in its eyes; +And the sum of the world + In soft miniature lies. + +"But man crouches and blushes, + Absconds and conceals; +He creepeth and peepeth, + He palters and steals; +Infirm, melancholy, + Jealous glancing around, +An oaf, an accomplice, + He poisons the ground. + +"Out spoke the great mother, + Beholding his fear;-- +At the sound of her accents + Cold shuddered the sphere:-- +'Who has drugged my boy's cup? + Who has mixed my boy's bread? +Who, with sadness and madness, + Has turned my child's head?'" + +I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, +'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. +Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; +They fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime. + +"The fiend that man harries + Is love of the Best; +Yawns the pit of the Dragon, + Lit by rays from the Blest. +The Lethe of Nature + Can't trance him again, +Whose soul sees the perfect, + Which his eyes seek in vain. + +"To vision profounder, + Man's spirit must dive; +His aye-rolling orb + At no goal will arrive; +The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, +Once found,--for new heavens + He spurneth the old. + +"Pride ruined the angels, + Their shame them restores; +Lurks the joy that is sweetest + In stings of remorse. +Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?-- +I would he were nobler + Than to love me. + +"Eterne alternation + Now follows, now flies; +And under pain, pleasure,-- + Under pleasure, pain lies. +Love works at the centre, + Heart-heaving alway; +Forth speed the strong pulses + To the borders of day. + +"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; + Thy sight is growing blear; +Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, + Her muddy eyes to clear!" +The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,-- + Said, "Who taught thee me to name? +I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow; + Of thine eye I am eyebeam. + +"Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, +Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. +So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; +Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply." + +Uprose the merry Sphinx, + And crouched no more in stone; +She melted into purple cloud, + She silvered in the moon; +She spired into a yellow flame; + She flowered in blossoms red; +She flowed into a foaming wave: + She stood Monadnoc's head. + +Thorough a thousand voices + Spoke the universal dame; +"Who telleth one of my meanings + Is master of all I am." + + + +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + +I, Alphonso, live and learn, +Seeing Nature go astern. +Things deteriorate in kind; +Lemons run to leaves and rind; +Meagre crop of figs and limes; +Shorter days and harder times. +Flowering April cools and dies +In the insufficient skies. +Imps, at high midsummer, blot +Half the sun's disk with a spot; +'Twill not now avail to tan +Orange cheek or skin of man. +Roses bleach, the goats are dry, +Lisbon quakes, the people cry. +Yon pale, scrawny fisher fools, +Gaunt as bitterns in the pools, +Are no brothers of my blood;-- +They discredit Adamhood. +Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, +O'er your ramparts as ye lean, +The general debility; +Of genius the sterility; +Mighty projects countermanded; +Rash ambition, brokenhanded; +Puny man and scentless rose +Tormenting Pan to double the dose. +Rebuild or ruin: either fill +Of vital force the wasted rill, +Or tumble all again in heap +To weltering Chaos and to sleep. + +Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, +Which fed the veins of earth and sky, +That mortals miss the loyal heats, +Which drove them erst to social feats; +Now, to a savage selfness grown, +Think nature barely serves for one; +With science poorly mask their hurt; +And vex the gods with question pert, +Immensely curious whether you +Still are rulers, or Mildew? + +Masters, I'm in pain with you; +Masters, I'll be plain with you; +In my palace of Castile, +I, a king, for kings can feel. +There my thoughts the matter roll, +And solve and oft resolve the whole. +And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, +Ye shall not fail for sound advice. +Before ye want a drop of rain, +Hear the sentiment of Spain. + +You have tried famine: no more try it; +Ply us now with a full diet; +Teach your pupils now with plenty, +For one sun supply us twenty. +I have thought it thoroughly over,-- +State of hermit, state of lover; +We must have society, +We cannot spare variety. +Hear you, then, celestial fellows! +Fits not to be overzealous; +Steads not to work on the clean jump, +Nor wine nor brains perpetual pump. +Men and gods are too extense; +Could you slacken and condense? +Your rank overgrowths reduce +Till your kinds abound with juice? +Earth, crowded, cries, 'Too many men!' +My counsel is, kill nine in ten, +And bestow the shares of all +On the remnant decimal. +Add their nine lives to this cat; +Stuff their nine brains in one hat; +Make his frame and forces square +With the labors he must dare; +Thatch his flesh, and even his years +With the marble which he rears. +There, growing slowly old at ease +No faster than his planted trees, +He may, by warrant of his age, +In schemes of broader scope engage. +So shall ye have a man of the sphere +Fit to grace the solar year. + + + +MITHRIDATES + +I cannot spare water or wine, + Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; +From the earth-poles to the Line, + All between that works or grows, +Every thing is kin of mine. + +Give me agates for my meat; +Give me cantharids to eat; +From air and ocean bring me foods, +From all zones and altitudes;-- + +From all natures, sharp and slimy, + Salt and basalt, wild and tame: +Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, + Bird, and reptile, be my game. + +Ivy for my fillet band; +Blinding dog-wood in my hand; +Hemlock for my sherbet cull me, +And the prussic juice to lull me; +Swing me in the upas boughs, +Vampyre-fanned, when I carouse. + +Too long shut in strait and few, +Thinly dieted on dew, +I will use the world, and sift it, +To a thousand humors shift it, +As you spin a cherry. +O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry! +O all you virtues, methods, mights, +Means, appliances, delights, +Reputed wrongs and braggart rights, +Smug routine, and things allowed, +Minorities, things under cloud! +Hither! take me, use me, fill me, +Vein and artery, though ye kill me! + + + +TO J.W. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Hear what wine and roses say; +The mountain chase, the summer waves, +The crowded town, thy feet may well delay. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Nor seek to unwind the shroud +Which charitable Time +And Nature have allowed +To wrap the errors of a sage sublime. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Care not to strip the dead +Of his sad ornament, +His myrrh, and wine, and rings, + +His sheet of lead, +And trophies buried: +Go, get them where he earned them when alive; +As resolutely dig or dive. + +Life is too short to waste +In critic peep or cynic bark, +Quarrel or reprimand: +'T will soon be dark; +Up! mind thine own aim, and +God speed the mark! + + + +DESTINY + +That you are fair or wise is vain, +Or strong, or rich, or generous; +You must add the untaught strain +That sheds beauty on the rose. +There's a melody born of melody, +Which melts the world into a sea. +Toil could never compass it; +Art its height could never hit; +It came never out of wit; +But a music music-born +Well may Jove and Juno scorn. +Thy beauty, if it lack the fire +Which drives me mad with sweet desire, +What boots it? What the soldier's mail, +Unless he conquer and prevail? +What all the goods thy pride which lift, +If thou pine for another's gift? +Alas! that one is born in blight, +Victim of perpetual slight: +When thou lookest on his face, +Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! +None shall ask thee what thou doest, +Or care a rush for what thou knowest, +Or listen when thou repliest, +Or remember where thou liest, +Or how thy supper is sodden;' +And another is born +To make the sun forgotten. +Surely he carries a talisman +Under his tongue; +Broad his shoulders are and strong; +And his eye is scornful, +Threatening and young. +I hold it of little matter +Whether your jewel be of pure water, +A rose diamond or a white, +But whether it dazzle me with light. +I care not how you are dressed, +In coarsest weeds or in the best; +Nor whether your name is base or brave: +Nor for the fashion of your behavior; +But whether you charm me, +Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me +And dress up Nature in your favor. +One thing is forever good; +That one thing is Success,-- +Dear to the Eumenides, +And to all the heavenly brood. +Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, +Carries the eagles, and masters the sword. + + + +GUY + +Mortal mixed of middle clay, +Attempered to the night and day, +Interchangeable with things, +Needs no amulets nor rings. +Guy possessed the talisman +That all things from him began; +And as, of old, Polycrates +Chained the sunshine and the breeze, +So did Guy betimes discover +Fortune was his guard and lover; +In strange junctures, felt, with awe, +His own symmetry with law; +That no mixture could withstand +The virtue of his lucky hand. +He gold or jewel could not lose, +Nor not receive his ample dues. +Fearless Guy had never foes, +He did their weapons decompose. +Aimed at him, the blushing blade +Healed as fast the wounds it made. +If on the foeman fell his gaze, +Him it would straightway blind or craze, +In the street, if he turned round, +His eye the eye 't was seeking found. + +It seemed his Genius discreet +Worked on the Maker's own receipt, +And made each tide and element +Stewards of stipend and of rent; +So that the common waters fell +As costly wine into his well. +He had so sped his wise affairs +That he caught Nature in his snares. +Early or late, the falling rain +Arrived in time to swell his grain; +Stream could not so perversely wind +But corn of Guy's was there to grind: +The siroc found it on its way, +To speed his sails, to dry his hay; +And the world's sun seemed to rise +To drudge all day for Guy the wise. +In his rich nurseries, timely skill +Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; +The zephyr in his garden rolled +From plum-trees vegetable gold; +And all the hours of the year +With their own harvest honored were. +There was no frost but welcome came, +Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. +Belonged to wind and world the toil +And venture, and to Guy the oil. + + + +HAMATREYA + +Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, +Possessed the land which rendered to their toil +Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood. +Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm, +Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's. +How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees! +How graceful climb those shadows on my hill! +I fancy these pure waters and the flags +Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize; +And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.' + +Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds: +And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. +Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys +Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; +Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet +Clear of the grave. +They added ridge to valley, brook to pond, +And sighed for all that bounded their domain; +'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park; +We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge, +And misty lowland, where to go for peat. +The land is well,--lies fairly to the south. +'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back, +To find the sitfast acres where you left them.' +Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds +Him to his land, a lump of mould the more. +Hear what the Earth says:-- + + EARTH-SONG + + 'Mine and yours; + Mine, not yours. + Earth endures; + Stars abide-- + Shine down in the old sea; + Old are the shores; + But where are old men? + I who have seen much, + Such have I never seen. + + 'The lawyer's deed + Ran sure, + In tail, + To them, and to their heirs + Who shall succeed, + Without fail, + Forevermore. + + 'Here is the land, + Shaggy with wood, + With its old valley, + Mound and flood. + But the heritors?-- + + Fled like the flood's foam. + The lawyer, and the laws, + And the kingdom, + Clean swept herefrom. + + 'They called me theirs, + Who so controlled me; + Yet every one + Wished to stay, and is gone, + How am I theirs, + If they cannot hold me, + But I hold them?' + +When I heard the Earth-song +I was no longer brave; +My avarice cooled +Like lust in the chill of the grave. + + + +THE RHODORA: + +ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? + +In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, +I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, +Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, +To please the desert and the sluggish brook. +The purple petals, fallen in the pool, +Made the black water with their beauty gay; +Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. +And court the flower that cheapens his array. +Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why +This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, +Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, +Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: +Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! +I never thought to ask, I never knew: +But, in my simple ignorance, suppose +The self-same Power that brought me there brought you. + + + +THE HUMBLE-BEE + +Burly, dozing humble-bee, +Where thou art is clime for me. +Let them sail for Porto Rique, +Far-off heats through seas to seek; +I will follow thee alone, +Thou animated torrid-zone! +Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, +Let me chase thy waving lines; +Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, +Singing over shrubs and vines. + +Insect lover of the sun, +Joy of thy dominion! +Sailor of the atmosphere; +Swimmer through the waves of air; +Voyager of light and noon; +Epicurean of June; +Wait, I prithee, till I come +Within earshot of thy hum,-- +All without is martyrdom. + +When the south wind, in May days, +With a net of shining haze +Silvers the horizon wall, +And with softness touching all, +Tints the human countenance +With a color of romance, +And infusing subtle heats, +Turns the sod to violets, +Thou, in sunny solitudes, +Rover of the underwoods, +The green silence dost displace +With thy mellow, breezy bass. + +Hot midsummer's petted crone, +Sweet to me thy drowsy tone +Tells of countless sunny hours, +Long days, and solid banks of flowers; +Of gulfs of sweetness without bound +In Indian wildernesses found; +Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, +Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. + +Aught unsavory or unclean +Hath my insect never seen; +But violets and bilberry bells, +Maple-sap and daffodels, +Grass with green flag half-mast high, +Succory to match the sky, +Columbine with horn of honey, +Scented fern, and agrimony, +Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue +And brier-roses, dwelt among; +All beside was unknown waste, +All was picture as he passed. + +Wiser far than human seer, +Yellow-breeched philosopher! +Seeing only what is fair, +Sipping only what is sweet, +Thou dost mock at fate and care, +Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. +When the fierce northwestern blast +Cools sea and land so far and fast, +Thou already slumberest deep; +Woe and want thou canst outsleep; +Want and woe, which torture us, +Thy sleep makes ridiculous. + + + +BERRYING + +'May be true what I had heard,-- +Earth's a howling wilderness, +Truculent with fraud and force,' +Said I, strolling through the pastures, +And along the river-side. +Caught among the blackberry vines, +Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, +Pleasant fancies overtook me. +I said, 'What influence me preferred, +Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' +The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem +No wisdom from our berries went?' + + + +THE SNOW-STORM + +Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, +Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, +Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air +Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, +And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. +The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet +Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit +Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed +In a tumultuous privacy of storm. + + Come see the north wind's masonry. +Out of an unseen quarry +Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer +Curves his white bastions with projected roof +Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. +Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work +So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he +For number or proportion. Mockingly, +On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; +A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; +Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, +Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate +A tapering turret overtops the work. +And when his hours are numbered, and the world +Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, +Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art +To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, +Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, +The frolic architecture of the snow. + + + +WOODNOTES I + +1 + +When the pine tosses its cones +To the song of its waterfall tones, +Who speeds to the woodland walks? +To birds and trees who talks? +Caesar of his leafy Rome, +There the poet is at home. +He goes to the river-side,-- +Not hook nor line hath he; +He stands in the meadows wide,-- +Nor gun nor scythe to see. +Sure some god his eye enchants: +What he knows nobody wants. +In the wood he travels glad, +Without better fortune had, +Melancholy without bad. +Knowledge this man prizes best +Seems fantastic to the rest: +Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, +Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, +Boughs on which the wild bees settle, +Tints that spot the violet's petal, +Why Nature loves the number five, +And why the star-form she repeats: +Lover of all things alive, +Wonderer at all he meets, +Wonderer chiefly at himself, +Who can tell him what he is? +Or how meet in human elf +Coming and past eternities? + +2 + +And such I knew, a forest seer, +A minstrel of the natural year, +Foreteller of the vernal ides, +Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, +A lover true, who knew by heart +Each joy the mountain dales impart; +It seemed that Nature could not raise +A plant in any secret place, +In quaking bog, on snowy hill, +Beneath the grass that shades the rill, +Under the snow, between the rocks, +In damp fields known to bird and fox. +But he would come in the very hour +It opened in its virgin bower, +As if a sunbeam showed the place, +And tell its long-descended race. +It seemed as if the breezes brought him, +It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; +As if by secret sight he knew +Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. +Many haps fall in the field +Seldom seen by wishful eyes, +But all her shows did Nature yield, +To please and win this pilgrim wise. +He saw the partridge drum in the woods; +He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; +He found the tawny thrushes' broods; +And the shy hawk did wait for him; +What others did at distance hear, +And guessed within the thicket's gloom, +Was shown to this philosopher, +And at his bidding seemed to come. + +3 + +In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang +Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; +He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon +The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; +Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, +And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. +He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, +The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, +And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, +Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. +He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, +With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,-- +One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, +Declares the close of its green century. +Low lies the plant to whose creation went +Sweet influence from every element; +Whose living towers the years conspired to build, +Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. +Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, +He roamed, content alike with man and beast. +Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; +There the red morning touched him with its light. +Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, +So long he roved at will the boundless shade. +The timid it concerns to ask their way, +And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, +To make no step until the event is known, +And ills to come as evils past bemoan. +Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps +To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; +Go where he will, the wise man is at home, +His hearth the earth,--his hall the azure dome; +Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road +By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. + +4 + +'T was one of the charmèd days +When the genius of God doth flow; +The wind may alter twenty ways, +A tempest cannot blow; +It may blow north, it still is warm; +Or south, it still is clear; +Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; +Or west, no thunder fear. +The musing peasant, lowly great, +Beside the forest water sate; +The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown +Composed the network of his throne; +The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, +Was burnished to a floor of glass, +Painted with shadows green and proud +Of the tree and of the cloud. +He was the heart of all the scene; +On him the sun looked more serene; +To hill and cloud his face was known,-- +It seemed the likeness of their own; +They knew by secret sympathy +The public child of earth and sky. +'You ask,' he said, 'what guide +Me through trackless thickets led, +Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. +I found the water's bed. +The watercourses were my guide; +I travelled grateful by their side, +Or through their channel dry; +They led me through the thicket damp, +Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, +Through beds of granite cut my road, +And their resistless friendship showed. +The falling waters led me, +The foodful waters fed me, +And brought me to the lowest land, +Unerring to the ocean sand. +The moss upon the forest bark +Was pole-star when the night was dark; +The purple berries in the wood +Supplied me necessary food; +For Nature ever faithful is +To such as trust her faithfulness. +When the forest shall mislead me, +When the night and morning lie, +When sea and land refuse to feed me, +'T will be time enough to die; +Then will yet my mother yield +A pillow in her greenest field, +Nor the June flowers scorn to cover +The clay of their departed lover.' + + + +WOODNOTES II + +_As sunbeams stream through liberal space_ +_And nothing jostle or displace,_ +_So waved the pine-tree through my thought_ +_And fanned the dreams it never brought._ + +'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? +Come to me,' +Quoth the pine-tree, +'I am the giver of honor. +My garden is the cloven rock, +And my manure the snow; +And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, +In summer's scorching glow. +He is great who can live by me: +The rough and bearded forester +Is better than the lord; +God fills the script and canister, +Sin piles the loaded board. +The lord is the peasant that was, +The peasant the lord that shall be; +The lord is hay, the peasant grass, +One dry, and one the living tree. +Who liveth by the ragged pine +Foundeth a heroic line; +Who liveth in the palace hall +Waneth fast and spendeth all. +He goes to my savage haunts, +With his chariot and his care; +My twilight realm he disenchants, +And finds his prison there. + +'What prizes the town and the tower? +Only what the pine-tree yields; +Sinew that subdued the fields; +The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods +Chants his hymn to hills and floods, +Whom the city's poisoning spleen +Made not pale, or fat, or lean; +Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, +Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, +In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, +In whose feet the lion rusheth, +Iron arms, and iron mould, +That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. +I give my rafters to his boat, +My billets to his boiler's throat, +And I will swim the ancient sea +To float my child to victory, +And grant to dwellers with the pine +Dominion o'er the palm and vine. +Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, +Unnerves his strength, invites his end. +Cut a bough from my parent stem, +And dip it in thy porcelain vase; +A little while each russet gem +Will swell and rise with wonted grace; +But when it seeks enlarged supplies, +The orphan of the forest dies. +Whoso walks in solitude +And inhabiteth the wood, +Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, +Before the money-loving herd, +Into that forester shall pass, +From these companions, power and grace. +Clean shall he be, without, within, +From the old adhering sin, +All ill dissolving in the light +Of his triumphant piercing sight: +Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; +Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; +Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, +And of all other men desired. +On him the light of star and moon +Shall fall with purer radiance down; +All constellations of the sky +Shed their virtue through his eye. +Him Nature giveth for defence +His formidable innocence; +The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, +All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; +He shall meet the speeding year, +Without wailing, without fear; +He shall be happy in his love, +Like to like shall joyful prove; +He shall be happy whilst he wooes, +Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. +But if with gold she bind her hair, +And deck her breast with diamond, +Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, +Though thou lie alone on the ground. + +'Heed the old oracles, +Ponder my spells; +Song wakes in my pinnacles +When the wind swells. +Soundeth the prophetic wind, +The shadows shake on the rock behind, +And the countless leaves of the pine are strings +Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. + Hearken! Hearken! +If thou wouldst know the mystic song +Chanted when the sphere was young. +Aloft, abroad, the paean swells; +O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? +O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? +'Tis the chronicle of art. +To the open ear it sings +Sweet the genesis of things, +Of tendency through endless ages, +Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, +Of rounded worlds, of space and time, +Of the old flood's subsiding slime, +Of chemic matter, force and form, +Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: +The rushing metamorphosis +Dissolving all that fixture is, +Melts things that be to things that seem, +And solid nature to a dream. +O, listen to the undersong, +The ever old, the ever young; +And, far within those cadent pauses, +The chorus of the ancient Causes! +Delights the dreadful Destiny +To fling his voice into the tree, +And shock thy weak ear with a note +Breathed from the everlasting throat. +In music he repeats the pang +Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. +O mortal! thy ears are stones; +These echoes are laden with tones +Which only the pure can hear; +Thou canst not catch what they recite +Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, +Of man to come, of human life, +Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' + + Once again the pine-tree sung:-- +'Speak not thy speech my boughs among: +Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; +My hours are peaceful centuries. +Talk no more with feeble tongue; +No more the fool of space and time, +Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. +Only thy Americans +Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, +But the runes that I rehearse +Understands the universe; +The least breath my boughs which tossed +Brings again the Pentecost; +To every soul resounding clear +In a voice of solemn cheer,-- +"Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" +And they reply, "Forever mine!" +My branches speak Italian, +English, German, Basque, Castilian, +Mountain speech to Highlanders, +Ocean tongues to islanders, +To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, +To each his bosom-secret say. + + 'Come learn with me the fatal song +Which knits the world in music strong, +Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, +Of things with things, of times with times, +Primal chimes of sun and shade, +Of sound and echo, man and maid, +The land reflected in the flood, +Body with shadow still pursued. +For Nature beats in perfect tune, +And rounds with rhyme her every rune, +Whether she work in land or sea, +Or hide underground her alchemy. +Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, +Or dip thy paddle in the lake, +But it carves the bow of beauty there, +And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. +The wood is wiser far than thou; +The wood and wave each other know +Not unrelated, unaffied, +But to each thought and thing allied, +Is perfect Nature's every part, +Rooted in the mighty Heart, +But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, +Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, +Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? +Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? +Who thee divorced, deceived and left? +Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, +And torn the ensigns from thy brow, +And sunk the immortal eye so low? +Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, +Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender +For royal man;--they thee confess +An exile from the wilderness,-- +The hills where health with health agrees, +And the wise soul expels disease. +Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign +By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. +When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, +Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, +To thee the horizon shall express +But emptiness on emptiness; +There lives no man of Nature's worth +In the circle of the earth; +And to thine eye the vast skies fall, +Dire and satirical, +On clucking hens and prating fools, +On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. +And thou shalt say to the Most High, +"Godhead! all this astronomy, +And fate and practice and invention, +Strong art and beautiful pretension, +This radiant pomp of sun and star, +Throes that were, and worlds that are, +Behold! were in vain and in vain;-- +It cannot be,--I will look again. +Surely now will the curtain rise, +And earth's fit tenant me surprise;-- +But the curtain doth _not_ rise, +And Nature has miscarried wholly +Into failure, into folly." + +'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, +Blessed Nature so to see. +Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, +And heal the hurts which sin has made. +I see thee in the crowd alone; +I will be thy companion. +Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, +And build to them a final tomb; +Let the starred shade that nightly falls +Still celebrate their funerals, +And the bell of beetle and of bee +Knell their melodious memory. +Behind thee leave thy merchandise, +Thy churches and thy charities; +And leave thy peacock wit behind; +Enough for thee the primal mind +That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: +Leave all thy pedant lore apart; +God hid the whole world in thy heart. +Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, +Gives all to them who all renounce. +The rain comes when the wind calls; +The river knows the way to the sea; +Without a pilot it runs and falls, +Blessing all lands with its charity; +The sea tosses and foams to find +Its way up to the cloud and wind; +The shadow sits close to the flying ball; +The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; +And thou,--go burn thy wormy pages,-- +Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. +Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain +To find what bird had piped the strain:-- +Seek not, and the little eremite +Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. + +'Hearken once more! +I will tell thee the mundane lore. +Older am I than thy numbers wot, +Change I may, but I pass not. +Hitherto all things fast abide, +And anchored in the tempest ride. +Trenchant time behoves to hurry +All to yean and all to bury: +All the forms are fugitive, +But the substances survive. +Ever fresh the broad creation, +A divine improvisation, +From the heart of God proceeds, +A single will, a million deeds. +Once slept the world an egg of stone, +And pulse, and sound, and light was none; +And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion +And the vast mass became vast ocean. +Onward and on, the eternal Pan, +Who layeth the world's incessant plan, +Halteth never in one shape, +But forever doth escape, +Like wave or flame, into new forms +Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. +I, that to-day am a pine, +Yesterday was a bundle of grass. +He is free and libertine, +Pouring of his power the wine +To every age, to every race; +Unto every race and age +He emptieth the beverage; +Unto each, and unto all, +Maker and original. +The world is the ring of his spells, +And the play of his miracles. +As he giveth to all to drink, +Thus or thus they are and think. +With one drop sheds form and feature; +With the next a special nature; +The third adds heat's indulgent spark; +The fourth gives light which eats the dark; +Into the fifth himself he flings, +And conscious Law is King of kings. +As the bee through the garden ranges, +From world to world the godhead changes; +As the sheep go feeding in the waste, +From form to form He maketh haste; +This vault which glows immense with light +Is the inn where he lodges for a night. +What recks such Traveller if the bowers +Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers +A bunch of fragrant lilies be, +Or the stars of eternity? +Alike to him the better, the worse,-- +The glowing angel, the outcast corse. +Thou metest him by centuries, +And lo! he passes like the breeze; +Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, +He hides in pure transparency; +Thou askest in fountains and in fires, +He is the essence that inquires. +He is the axis of the star; +He is the sparkle of the spar; +He is the heart of every creature; +He is the meaning of each feature; +And his mind is the sky. +Than all it holds more deep, more high.' + + + +MONADNOC + +Thousand minstrels woke within me, + 'Our music's in the hills;'-- +Gayest pictures rose to win me, + Leopard-colored rills. +'Up!--If thou knew'st who calls +To twilight parks of beech and pine, +High over the river intervals, +Above the ploughman's highest line, +Over the owner's farthest walls! +Up! where the airy citadel +O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell! +Let not unto the stones the Day +Her lily and rose, her sea and land display. +Read the celestial sign! +Lo! the south answers to the north; +Bookworm, break this sloth urbane; +A greater spirit bids thee forth +Than the gray dreams which thee detain. +Mark how the climbing Oreads +Beckon thee to their arcades; +Youth, for a moment free as they, +Teach thy feet to feel the ground, +Ere yet arrives the wintry day +When Time thy feet has bound. +Take the bounty of thy birth, +Taste the lordship of the earth.' + + I heard, and I obeyed,-- +Assured that he who made the claim, +Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid. +Ere yet the summoning voice was still, +I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill. +From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed +Like ample banner flung abroad +To all the dwellers in the plains +Round about, a hundred miles, +With salutation to the sea and to the bordering isles. +In his own loom's garment dressed, +By his proper bounty blessed, +Fast abides this constant giver, +Pouring many a cheerful river; +To far eyes, an aerial isle +Unploughed, which finer spirits pile, +Which morn and crimson evening paint +For bard, for lover and for saint; +An eyemark and the country's core, +Inspirer, prophet evermore; +Pillar which God aloft had set +So that men might it not forget; +It should be their life's ornament, +And mix itself with each event; +Gauge and calendar and dial, +Weatherglass and chemic phial, +Garden of berries, perch of birds, +Pasture of pool-haunting herds, +Graced by each change of sum untold, +Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold. + +The Titan heeds his sky-affairs, +Rich rents and wide alliance shares; +Mysteries of color daily laid +By morn and eve in light and shade; +And sweet varieties of chance, +And the mystic seasons' dance; +And thief-like step of liberal hours +Thawing snow-drift into flowers. +O, wondrous craft of plant and stone +By eldest science wrought and shown! + +'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here! +Fair fortunes to the mountaineer! +Boon Nature to his poorest shed +Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.' +Intent, I searched the region round, +And in low hut the dweller found: +Woe is me for my hope's downfall! +Is yonder squalid peasant all +That this proud nursery could breed +For God's vicegerency and stead? +Time out of mind, this forge of ores; +Quarry of spars in mountain pores; +Old cradle, hunting-ground and bier +Of wolf and otter, bear and deer; +Well-built abode of many a race; +Tower of observance searching space; +Factory of river and of rain; +Link in the Alps' globe-girding chain; +By million changes skilled to tell +What in the Eternal standeth well, +And what obedient Nature can;-- +Is this colossal talisman +Kindly to plant and blood and kind, +But speechless to the master's mind? +I thought to find the patriots +In whom the stock of freedom roots; +To myself I oft recount +Tales of many a famous mount,-- +Wales, Scotland, Uri, Hungary's dells: +Bards, Roys, Scanderbegs and Tells; +And think how Nature in these towers +Uplifted shall condense her powers, +And lifting man to the blue deep +Where stars their perfect courses keep, +Like wise preceptor, lure his eye +To sound the science of the sky, +And carry learning to its height +Of untried power and sane delight: +The Indian cheer, the frosty skies, +Rear purer wits, inventive eyes,-- +Eyes that frame cities where none be, +And hands that stablish what these see: +And by the moral of his place +Hint summits of heroic grace; +Man in these crags a fastness find +To fight pollution of the mind; +In the wide thaw and ooze of wrong, +Adhere like this foundation strong, +The insanity of towns to stem +With simpleness for stratagem. +But if the brave old mould is broke, +And end in churls the mountain folk +In tavern cheer and tavern joke, +Sink, O mountain, in the swamp! +Hide in thy skies, O sovereign lamp! +Perish like leaves, the highland breed +No sire survive, no son succeed! + +Soft! let not the offended muse +Toil's hard hap with scorn accuse. +Many hamlets sought I then, +Many farms of mountain men. +Rallying round a parish steeple +Nestle warm the highland people, +Coarse and boisterous, yet mild, +Strong as giant, slow as child. +Sweat and season are their arts, +Their talismans are ploughs and carts; +And well the youngest can command +Honey from the frozen land; +With cloverheads the swamp adorn, +Change the running sand to corn; +For wolf and fox, bring lowing herds, +And for cold mosses, cream and curds: +Weave wood to canisters and mats; +Drain sweet maple juice in vats. +No bird is safe that cuts the air +From their rifle or their snare; +No fish, in river or in lake, +But their long hands it thence will take; +Whilst the country's flinty face, +Like wax, their fashioning skill betrays, +To fill the hollows, sink the hills, +Bridge gulfs, drain swamps, build dams and mills, +And fit the bleak and howling waste +For homes of virtue, sense and taste. +The World-soul knows his own affair, +Forelooking, when he would prepare +For the next ages, men of mould +Well embodied, well ensouled, +He cools the present's fiery glow, +Sets the life-pulse strong but slow: +Bitter winds and fasts austere +His quarantines and grottoes, where +He slowly cures decrepit flesh, +And brings it infantile and fresh. +Toil and tempest are the toys +And games to breathe his stalwart boys: +They bide their time, and well can prove, +If need were, their line from Jove; +Of the same stuff, and so allayed, +As that whereof the sun is made, +And of the fibre, quick and strong, +Whose throbs are love, whose thrills are song. + + Now in sordid weeds they sleep, +In dulness now their secret keep; +Yet, will you learn our ancient speech, +These the masters who can teach. +Fourscore or a hundred words +All their vocal muse affords; +But they turn them in a fashion +Past clerks' or statesmen's art or passion. +I can spare the college bell, +And the learned lecture, well; +Spare the clergy and libraries, +Institutes and dictionaries, +For that hardy English root +Thrives here, unvalued, underfoot. +Rude poets of the tavern hearth, +Squandering your unquoted mirth, +Which keeps the ground and never soars, +While Jake retorts and Reuben roars; +Scoff of yeoman strong and stark, +Goes like bullet to its mark; +While the solid curse and jeer +Never balk the waiting ear. + + On the summit as I stood, +O'er the floor of plain and flood +Seemed to me, the towering hill +Was not altogether still, +But a quiet sense conveyed: +If I err not, thus it said:-- + +'Many feet in summer seek, +Oft, my far-appearing peak; +In the dreaded winter time, +None save dappling shadows climb, +Under clouds, my lonely head, +Old as the sun, old almost as the shade; +And comest thou +To see strange forests and new snow, +And tread uplifted land? +And leavest thou thy lowland race, +Here amid clouds to stand? +And wouldst be my companion +Where I gaze, and still shall gaze, +Through tempering nights and flashing days, +When forests fall, and man is gone, +Over tribes and over times, +At the burning Lyre, +Nearing me, +With its stars of northern fire, +In many a thousand years? + +'Gentle pilgrim, if thou know +The gamut old of Pan, +And how the hills began, +The frank blessings of the hill +Fall on thee, as fall they will. + +'Let him heed who can and will; +Enchantment fixed me here +To stand the hurts of time, until +In mightier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest +How the chemic eddies play, +Pole to pole, and what they say; +And that these gray crags +Not on crags are hung, +But beads are of a rosary +On prayer and music strung; +And, credulous, through the granite seeming, +Seest the smile of Reason beaming;-- +Can thy style-discerning eye +The hidden-working Builder spy, +Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din, +With hammer soft as snowflake's flight;-- +Knowest thou this? +O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! +Already my rocks lie light, +And soon my cone will spin. + +'For the world was built in order, +And the atoms march in tune; +Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, +The sun obeys them and the moon. +Orb and atom forth they prance, +When they hear from far the rune; +None so backward in the troop, +When the music and the dance +Reach his place and circumstance, +But knows the sun-creating sound, +And, though a pyramid, will bound. + +'Monadnoc is a mountain strong, +Tall and good my kind among; +But well I know, no mountain can, +Zion or Meru, measure with man. +For it is on zodiacs writ, +Adamant is soft to wit: +And when the greater comes again +With my secret in his brain, +I shall pass, as glides my shadow +Daily over hill and meadow. + +'Through all time, in light, in gloom +Well I hear the approaching feet +On the flinty pathway beat +Of him that cometh, and shall come; +Of him who shall as lightly bear +My daily load of woods and streams, +As doth this round sky-cleaving boat +Which never strains its rocky beams; +Whose timbers, as they silent float, +Alps and Caucasus uprear, +And the long Alleghanies here, +And all town-sprinkled lands that be, +Sailing through stars with all their history. + +'Every morn I lift my head, +See New England underspread, +South from Saint Lawrence to the Sound, +From Katskill east to the sea-bound. +Anchored fast for many an age, +I await the bard and sage, +Who, in large thoughts, like fair pearl-seed, +Shall string Monadnoc like a bead. +Comes that cheerful troubadour, +This mound shall throb his face before, +As when, with inward fires and pain, +It rose a bubble from the plain. +When he cometh, I shall shed, +From this wellspring in my head, +Fountain-drop of spicier worth +Than all vintage of the earth. +There's fruit upon my barren soil +Costlier far than wine or oil. +There's a berry blue and gold,-- +Autumn-ripe, its juices hold +Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart, +Asia's rancor, Athens' art, +Slowsure Britain's secular might, +And the German's inward sight. +I will give my son to eat +Best of Pan's immortal meat, +Bread to eat, and juice to drain; +So the coinage of his brain +Shall not be forms of stars, but stars, +Nor pictures pale, but Jove and Mars, +He comes, but not of that race bred +Who daily climb my specular head. +Oft as morning wreathes my scarf, +Fled the last plumule of the Dark, +Pants up hither the spruce clerk +From South Cove and City Wharf. +I take him up my rugged sides, +Half-repentant, scant of breath,-- +Bead-eyes my granite chaos show, +And my midsummer snow: +Open the daunting map beneath,-- +All his county, sea and land, +Dwarfed to measure of his hand; +His day's ride is a furlong space, +His city-tops a glimmering haze. +I plant his eyes on the sky-hoop bounding; +"See there the grim gray rounding +Of the bullet of the earth +Whereon ye sail, +Tumbling steep +In the uncontinented deep." +He looks on that, and he turns pale. +'T is even so, this treacherous kite, +Farm-furrowed, town-incrusted sphere, +Thoughtless of its anxious freight, +Plunges eyeless on forever; +And he, poor parasite, +Cooped in a ship he cannot steer,-- +Who is the captain he knows not, +Port or pilot trows not,-- +Risk or ruin he must share. +I scowl on him with my cloud, +With my north wind chill his blood; +I lame him, clattering down the rocks; +And to live he is in fear. +Then, at last, I let him down +Once more into his dapper town, +To chatter, frightened, to his clan +And forget me if he can.' + +As in the old poetic fame +The gods are blind and lame, +And the simular despite +Betrays the more abounding might, +So call not waste that barren cone +Above the floral zone, +Where forests starve: +It is pure use;-- +What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind +Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse? + +Ages are thy days, +Thou grand affirmer of the present tense, +And type of permanence! +Firm ensign of the fatal Being, +Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief, +That will not bide the seeing! + +Hither we bring +Our insect miseries to thy rocks; +And the whole flight, with folded wing, +Vanish, and end their murmuring,-- +Vanish beside these dedicated blocks, +Which who can tell what mason laid? +Spoils of a front none need restore, +Replacing frieze and architrave;-- +Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave; +Still is the haughty pile erect +Of the old building Intellect. + +Complement of human kind, +Holding us at vantage still, +Our sumptuous indigence, +O barren mound, thy plenties fill! +We fool and prate; +Thou art silent and sedate. +To myriad kinds and times one sense +The constant mountain doth dispense; +Shedding on all its snows and leaves, +One joy it joys, one grief it grieves. +Thou seest, O watchman tall, +Our towns and races grow and fall, +And imagest the stable good +For which we all our lifetime grope, +In shifting form the formless mind, +And though the substance us elude, +We in thee the shadow find. +Thou, in our astronomy +An opaker star, +Seen haply from afar, +Above the horizon's hoop, +A moment, by the railway troop, +As o'er some bolder height they speed,-- +By circumspect ambition, +By errant gain, +By feasters and the frivolous,-- +Recallest us, +And makest sane. +Mute orator! well skilled to plead, +And send conviction without phrase, +Thou dost succor and remede +The shortness of our days, +And promise, on thy Founder's truth, +Long morrow to this mortal youth. + + + +FABLE + +The mountain and the squirrel +Had a quarrel, +And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; +Bun replied, +'You are doubtless very big; +But all sorts of things and weather +Must be taken in together, +To make up a year +And a sphere. +And I think it no disgrace +To occupy my place. +If I'm not so large as you, +You are not so small as I, +And not half so spry. +I'll not deny you make +A very pretty squirrel track; +Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; +If I cannot carry forests on my back, +Neither can you crack a nut.' + + + +ODE + +INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING + +Though loath to grieve +The evil time's sole patriot, +I cannot leave +My honied thought +For the priest's cant, +Or statesman's rant. + +If I refuse +My study for their politique, +Which at the best is trick, +The angry Muse +Puts confusion in my brain. + +But who is he that prates +Of the culture of mankind, +Of better arts and life? +Go, blindworm, go, +Behold the famous States +Harrying Mexico +With rifle and with knife! + +Or who, with accent bolder, +Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer? +I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook! +And in thy valleys, Agiochook! +The jackals of the negro-holder. + +The God who made New Hampshire +Taunted the lofty land +With little men;-- +Small bat and wren +House in the oak:-- +If earth-fire cleave +The upheaved land, and bury the folk, +The southern crocodile would grieve. +Virtue palters; Right is hence; +Freedom praised, but hid; +Funeral eloquence +Rattles the coffin-lid. + +What boots thy zeal, +O glowing friend, +That would indignant rend +The northland from the south? +Wherefore? to what good end? +Boston Bay and Bunker Hill +Would serve things still;-- +Things are of the snake. + +The horseman serves the horse, +The neatherd serves the neat, +The merchant serves the purse, +The eater serves his meat; +'T is the day of the chattel, +Web to weave, and corn to grind; +Things are in the saddle, +And ride mankind. + +There are two laws discrete, +Not reconciled,-- +Law for man, and law for thing; +The last builds town and fleet, +But it runs wild, +And doth the man unking. + +'T is fit the forest fall, +The steep be graded, +The mountain tunnelled, +The sand shaded, +The orchard planted, +The glebe tilled, +The prairie granted, +The steamer built. + +Let man serve law for man; +Live for friendship, live for love, +For truth's and harmony's behoof; +The state may follow how it can, +As Olympus follows Jove. + + Yet do not I implore +The wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods, +Nor bid the unwilling senator +Ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes. +Every one to his chosen work;-- +Foolish hands may mix and mar; +Wise and sure the issues are. +Round they roll till dark is light, +Sex to sex, and even to odd;-- +The over-god +Who marries Right to Might, +Who peoples, unpeoples,-- +He who exterminates +Races by stronger races, +Black by white faces,-- +Knows to bring honey +Out of the lion; +Grafts gentlest scion +On pirate and Turk. + +The Cossack eats Poland, +Like stolen fruit; +Her last noble is ruined, +Her last poet mute: +Straight, into double band +The victors divide; +Half for freedom strike and stand;-- +The astonished Muse finds thousands at her side. + + + +ASTRAEA + +Each the herald is who wrote +His rank, and quartered his own coat. +There is no king nor sovereign state +That can fix a hero's rate; +Each to all is venerable, +Cap-a-pie invulnerable, +Until he write, where all eyes rest, +Slave or master on his breast. +I saw men go up and down, +In the country and the town, +With this tablet on their neck, +'Judgment and a judge we seek.' +Not to monarchs they repair, +Nor to learned jurist's chair; +But they hurry to their peers, +To their kinsfolk and their dears; +Louder than with speech they pray,-- +'What am I? companion, say.' +And the friend not hesitates +To assign just place and mates; +Answers not in word or letter, +Yet is understood the better; +Each to each a looking-glass, +Reflects his figure that doth pass. +Every wayfarer he meets +What himself declared repeats, +What himself confessed records, +Sentences him in his words; +The form is his own corporal form, +And his thought the penal worm. +Yet shine forever virgin minds, +Loved by stars and purest winds, +Which, o'er passion throned sedate, +Have not hazarded their state; +Disconcert the searching spy, +Rendering to a curious eye +The durance of a granite ledge. +To those who gaze from the sea's edge +It is there for benefit; +It is there for purging light; +There for purifying storms; +And its depths reflect all forms; +It cannot parley with the mean,-- +Pure by impure is not seen. +For there's no sequestered grot, +Lone mountain tarn, or isle forgot, +But Justice, journeying in the sphere, +Daily stoops to harbor there. + + + +ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE + +I serve you not, if you I follow, +Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; +And bend my fancy to your leading, +All too nimble for my treading. +When the pilgrimage is done, +And we've the landscape overrun, +I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, +And your heart is unsupported. +Vainly valiant, you have missed +The manhood that should yours resist,-- +Its complement; but if I could, +In severe or cordial mood, +Lead you rightly to my altar, +Where the wisest Muses falter, +And worship that world-warming spark +Which dazzles me in midnight dark, +Equalizing small and large, +While the soul it doth surcharge, +Till the poor is wealthy grown, +And the hermit never alone,-- +The traveller and the road seem one +With the errand to be done,-- +That were a man's and lover's part, +That were Freedom's whitest chart. + + + +COMPENSATION + +Why should I keep holiday + When other men have none? +Why but because, when these are gay, + I sit and mourn alone? + +And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, + Should mine alone be dumb? +Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, + And now their hour is come. + + + +FORBEARANCE + +Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? +Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? +At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? +Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? +And loved so well a high behavior, +In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, +Nobility more nobly to repay? +O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! + + + +THE PARK + +The prosperous and beautiful + To me seem not to wear +The yoke of conscience masterful, + Which galls me everywhere. + +I cannot shake off the god; + On my neck he makes his seat; +I look at my face in the glass,-- + My eyes his eyeballs meet. + +Enchanters! Enchantresses! + Your gold makes you seem wise; +The morning mist within your grounds + More proudly rolls, more softly lies. + +Yet spake yon purple mountain, + Yet said yon ancient wood, +That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, + Leads all souls to the Good. + + + +FORERUNNERS + +Long I followed happy guides, +I could never reach their sides; +Their step is forth, and, ere the day +Breaks up their leaguer, and away. +Keen my sense, my heart was young, +Right good-will my sinews strung, +But no speed of mine avails +To hunt upon their shining trails. +On and away, their hasting feet +Make the morning proud and sweet; +Flowers they strew,--I catch the scent; +Or tone of silver instrument +Leaves on the wind melodious trace; +Yet I could never see their face. +On eastern hills I see their smokes, +Mixed with mist by distant lochs. +I met many travellers +Who the road had surely kept; +They saw not my fine revellers,-- +These had crossed them while they slept. +Some had heard their fair report, +In the country or the court. +Fleetest couriers alive +Never yet could once arrive, +As they went or they returned, +At the house where these sojourned. +Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, +Though they are not overtaken; +In sleep their jubilant troop is near,-- +I tuneful voices overhear; +It may be in wood or waste,-- +At unawares 't is come and past. +Their near camp my spirit knows +By signs gracious as rainbows. +I thenceforward and long after +Listen for their harp-like laughter, +And carry in my heart, for days, +Peace that hallows rudest ways. + + + +SURSUM CORDA + +Seek not the spirit, if it hide +Inexorable to thy zeal: +Trembler, do not whine and chide: +Art thou not also real? +Stoop not then to poor excuse; +Turn on the accuser roundly; say, +'Here am I, here will I abide +Forever to myself soothfast; +Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' +Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, +For only it can absolutely deal. + + + +ODE TO BEAUTY + +Who gave thee, O Beauty, +The keys of this breast,-- +Too credulous lover +Of blest and unblest? +Say, when in lapsed ages +Thee knew I of old? +Or what was the service +For which I was sold? +When first my eyes saw thee, +I found me thy thrall, +By magical drawings, +Sweet tyrant of all! +I drank at thy fountain +False waters of thirst; +Thou intimate stranger, +Thou latest and first! +Thy dangerous glances +Make women of men; +New-born, we are melting +Into nature again. + +Lavish, lavish promiser, +Nigh persuading gods to err! +Guest of million painted forms, +Which in turn thy glory warms! +The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, +The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, +The swinging spider's silver line, +The ruby of the drop of wine, +The shining pebble of the pond, +Thou inscribest with a bond, +In thy momentary play, +Would bankrupt nature to repay. + +Ah, what avails it +To hide or to shun +Whom the Infinite One +Hath granted his throne? +The heaven high over +Is the deep's lover; +The sun and sea, +Informed by thee, +Before me run +And draw me on, +Yet fly me still, +As Fate refuses +To me the heart Fate for me chooses. +Is it that my opulent soul +Was mingled from the generous whole; +Sea-valleys and the deep of skies +Furnished several supplies; +And the sands whereof I'm made +Draw me to them, self-betrayed? + +I turn the proud portfolio +Which holds the grand designs +Of Salvator, of Guercino, +And Piranesi's lines. +I hear the lofty paeans +Of the masters of the shell, +Who heard the starry music +And recount the numbers well; +Olympian bards who sung +Divine Ideas below, +Which always find us young +And always keep us so. +Oft, in streets or humblest places, +I detect far-wandered graces, +Which, from Eden wide astray, +In lowly homes have lost their way. + +Thee gliding through the sea of form, +Like the lightning through the storm, +Somewhat not to be possessed, +Somewhat not to be caressed, +No feet so fleet could ever find, +No perfect form could ever bind. +Thou eternal fugitive, +Hovering over all that live, +Quick and skilful to inspire +Sweet, extravagant desire, +Starry space and lily-bell +Filling with thy roseate smell, +Wilt not give the lips to taste +Of the nectar which thou hast. + +All that's good and great with thee +Works in close conspiracy; +Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely +To report thy features only, +And the cold and purple morning +Itself with thoughts of thee adorning; +The leafy dell, the city mart, +Equal trophies of thine art; +E'en the flowing azure air +Thou hast touched for my despair; +And, if I languish into dreams, +Again I meet the ardent beams. +Queen of things! I dare not die +In Being's deeps past ear and eye; +Lest there I find the same deceiver +And be the sport of Fate forever. +Dread Power, but dear! if God thou be, +Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me! + + + +GIVE ALL TO LOVE + +Give all to love; +Obey thy heart; +Friends, kindred, days, +Estate, good-fame, +Plans, credit and the Muse,-- +Nothing refuse. + +'T is a brave master; +Let it have scope: +Follow it utterly, +Hope beyond hope: +High and more high +It dives into noon, +With wing unspent, +Untold intent; +But it is a god, +Knows its own path +And the outlets of the sky. + +It was never for the mean; +It requireth courage stout. +Souls above doubt, +Valor unbending, +It will reward,-- +They shall return +More than they were, +And ever ascending. + +Leave all for love; +Yet, hear me, yet, +One word more thy heart behoved, +One pulse more of firm endeavor,-- +Keep thee to-day, +To-morrow, forever, +Free as an Arab +Of thy beloved. + +Cling with life to the maid; +But when the surprise, +First vague shadow of surmise +Flits across her bosom young, +Of a joy apart from thee, +Free be she, fancy-free; +Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, +Nor the palest rose she flung +From her summer diadem. + +Though thou loved her as thyself, +As a self of purer clay, +Though her parting dims the day, +Stealing grace from all alive; +Heartily know, +When half-gods go. +The gods arrive. + + + +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + +The green grass is bowing, + The morning wind is in it; +'T is a tune worth thy knowing, + Though it change every minute. + +'T is a tune of the Spring; + Every year plays it over +To the robin on the wing, + And to the pausing lover. + +O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, + Goes light the nimble zephyr; +The Flowers--tiny sect of Shakers-- + Worship him ever. + +Hark to the winning sound! + They summon thee, dearest,-- +Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, + Nor yet thou appearest. + +'O hasten;' 't is our time, + Ere yet the red Summer +Scorch our delicate prime, + Loved of bee,--the tawny hummer. + +'O pride of thy race! + Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, +If our brief tribe miss thy face, + We poor New England flowers. + +'Fairest, choose the fairest members + Of our lithe society; +June's glories and September's + Show our love and piety. + +'Thou shalt command us all,-- + April's cowslip, summer's clover, +To the gentian in the fall, + Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. + +'O come, then, quickly come! + We are budding, we are blowing; +And the wind that we perfume + Sings a tune that's worth the knowing.' + + + +TO ELLEN + +And Ellen, when the graybeard years + Have brought us to life's evening hour, +And all the crowded Past appears + A tiny scene of sun and shower, + +Then, if I read the page aright + Where Hope, the soothsayer, reads our lot, +Thyself shalt own the page was bright, + Well that we loved, woe had we not, + +When Mirth is dumb and Flattery's fled, + And mute thy music's dearest tone, +When all but Love itself is dead + And all but deathless Reason gone. + + + +TO EVA + +O fair and stately maid, whose eyes +Were kindled in the upper skies + At the same torch that lighted mine; +For so I must interpret still +Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, + A sympathy divine. + +Ah! let me blameless gaze upon +Features that seem at heart my own; + Nor fear those watchful sentinels, +Who charm the more their glance forbids, +Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, + With fire that draws while it repels. + + + +LINES + +WRITTEN BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER SHORTLY BEFORE +HER MARRIAGE TO MR. EMERSON + +Love scatters oil + On Life's dark sea, +Sweetens its toil-- + Our helmsman he. + +Around him hover + Odorous clouds; +Under this cover + His arrows he shrouds. + +The cloud was around me, + I knew not why +Such sweetness crowned me. + While Time shot by. + +No pain was within, + But calm delight, +Like a world without sin, + Or a day without night. + +The shafts of the god + Were tipped with down, +For they drew no blood, + And they knit no frown. + +I knew of them not + Until Cupid laughed loud, +And saying "You're caught!" + Flew off in the cloud. + +O then I awoke, + And I lived but to sigh, +Till a clear voice spoke,-- + And my tears are dry. + + + +THE VIOLET + +BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER + +Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; +Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; +Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, +Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? + +Why wilt thou live when none around reflects thy pensive ray? +Thou bloomest here a lonely thing in the clear autumn day. +The tall green trees, that shelter thee, their last gay dress put on; +There will be nought to shelter thee when their sweet leaves are gone. + +O Violet, like thee, how blest could I lie down and die, +When summer light is fading, and autumn breezes sigh; +When Winter reigned I'd close my eye, but wake with bursting Spring, +And live with living nature, a pure rejoicing thing. + +I had a sister once who seemed just like a violet; +Her morning sun shone bright and calmly purely set; +When the violets were in their shrouds, and Summer in its pride, +She laid her hopes at rest, and in the year's rich beauty died. + + + +THE AMULET + +Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; +Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings _since_ it came. + +Give me an amulet + That keeps intelligence with you,-- +Red when you love, and rosier red, + And when you love not, pale and blue. + +Alas! that neither bonds nor vows + Can certify possession; +Torments me still the fear that love + Died in its last expression. + + + +THINE EYES STILL SHINED + +Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + I lonely roved the land or sea: +As I behold yon evening star, + Which yet beholds not me. + +This morn I climbed the misty hill + And roamed the pastures through; +How danced thy form before my path + Amidst the deep-eyed dew! + +When the redbird spread his sable wing, + And showed his side of flame; +When the rosebud ripened to the rose, + In both I read thy name. + + + +EROS + +The sense of the world is short,-- +Long and various the report,-- + To love and be beloved; +Men and gods have not outlearned it; +And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, + Not to be improved. + + + +HERMIONE + +On a mound an Arab lay, +And sung his sweet regrets +And told his amulets: +The summer bird +His sorrow heard, +And, when he heaved a sigh profound, +The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. + +'If it be, as they said, she was not fair, +Beauty's not beautiful to me, +But sceptred genius, aye inorbed, +Culminating in her sphere. +This Hermione absorbed +The lustre of the land and ocean, +Hills and islands, cloud and tree, +In her form and motion. + +'I ask no bauble miniature, +Nor ringlets dead +Shorn from her comely head, +Now that morning not disdains +Mountains and the misty plains +Her colossal portraiture; +They her heralds be, +Steeped in her quality, +And singers of her fame +Who is their Muse and dame. + +'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say. +Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, +Say, was it just, +In thee to frame, in me to trust, +Thou to the Syrian couldst belong? + +'I am of a lineage +That each for each doth fast engage; +In old Bassora's schools, I seemed +Hermit vowed to books and gloom,-- +Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom. +I was by thy touch redeemed; +When thy meteor glances came, +We talked at large of worldly fate, +And drew truly every trait. + +'Once I dwelt apart, +Now I live with all; +As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side +Seems, by the traveller espied, +A door into the mountain heart, +So didst thou quarry and unlock +Highways for me through the rock. + +'Now, deceived, thou wanderest +In strange lands unblest; +And my kindred come to soothe me. +Southwind is my next of blood; +He is come through fragrant wood, +Drugged with spice from climates warm, +And in every twinkling glade, +And twilight nook, +Unveils thy form. +Out of the forest way +Forth paced it yesterday; +And when I sat by the watercourse, +Watching the daylight fade, +It throbbed up from the brook. + +'River and rose and crag and bird, +Frost and sun and eldest night, +To me their aid preferred, +To me their comfort plight;-- +"Courage! we are thine allies, +And with this hint be wise,-- +The chains of kind +The distant bind; +Deed thou doest she must do, +Above her will, be true; +And, in her strict resort +To winds and waterfalls +And autumn's sunlit festivals, +To music, and to music's thought, +Inextricably bound, +She shall find thee, and be found. +Follow not her flying feet; +Come to us herself to meet."' + + + +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + +I. THE INITIAL LOVE + +Venus, when her son was lost, +Cried him up and down the coast, +In hamlets, palaces and parks, +And told the truant by his marks,-- +Golden curls, and quiver and bow. +This befell how long ago! +Time and tide are strangely changed, +Men and manners much deranged: +None will now find Cupid latent +By this foolish antique patent. +He came late along the waste, +Shod like a traveller for haste; +With malice dared me to proclaim him, +That the maids and boys might name him. + +Boy no more, he wears all coats, +Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; +He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, +Nor chaplet on his head or hand. +Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,-- +All the rest he can disguise. +In the pit of his eye's a spark +Would bring back day if it were dark; +And, if I tell you all my thought, +Though I comprehend it not, +In those unfathomable orbs +Every function he absorbs; +Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, +And write, and reason, and compute, +And ride, and run, and have, and hold, +And whine, and flatter, and regret, +And kiss, and couple, and beget, +By those roving eyeballs bold. + +Undaunted are their courages, +Right Cossacks in their forages; +Fleeter they than any creature,-- +They are his steeds, and not his feature; +Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, +Restless, predatory, hasting; +And they pounce on other eyes +As lions on their prey; +And round their circles is writ, +Plainer than the day, +Underneath, within, above,-- +Love--love--love--love. +He lives in his eyes; +There doth digest, and work, and spin, +And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; +He rolls them with delighted motion, +Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean. +Yet holds he them with tautest rein, +That they may seize and entertain +The glance that to their glance opposes, +Like fiery honey sucked from roses. +He palmistry can understand, +Imbibing virtue by his hand +As if it were a living root; +The pulse of hands will make him mute; +With all his force he gathers balms +Into those wise, thrilling palms. + +Cupid is a casuist, +A mystic and a cabalist,-- +Can your lurking thought surprise, +And interpret your device. +He is versed in occult science, +In magic and in clairvoyance, +Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, +And Reason on her tiptoe pained +For aëry intelligence, +And for strange coincidence. +But it touches his quick heart +When Fate by omens takes his part, +And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere +Deeply soothe his anxious ear. + +Heralds high before him run; +He has ushers many a one; +He spreads his welcome where he goes, +And touches all things with his rose. +All things wait for and divine him,-- +How shall I dare to malign him, +Or accuse the god of sport? +I must end my true report, +Painting him from head to foot, +In as far as I took note, +Trusting well the matchless power +Of this young-eyed emperor +Will clear his fame from every cloud +With the bards and with the crowd. + +He is wilful, mutable, +Shy, untamed, inscrutable, +Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. +Substance mixed of pure contraries; +His vice some elder virtue's token, +And his good is evil-spoken. +Failing sometimes of his own, +He is headstrong and alone; +He affects the wood and wild, +Like a flower-hunting child; +Buries himself in summer waves, +In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, +Loves nature like a hornèd cow, +Bird, or deer, or caribou. + +Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses! +He has a total world of wit; +O how wise are his discourses! +But he is the arch-hypocrite, +And, through all science and all art, +Seeks alone his counterpart. +He is a Pundit of the East, +He is an augur and a priest, +And his soul will melt in prayer, +But word and wisdom is a snare; +Corrupted by the present toy +He follows joy, and only joy. +There is no mask but he will wear; +He invented oaths to swear; +He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, +And holds all stars in his embrace. +He takes a sovran privilege +Not allowed to any liege; +For Cupid goes behind all law, +And right into himself does draw; +For he is sovereignly allied,-- +Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,-- +And interchangeably at one +With every king on every throne, +That no god dare say him nay, +Or see the fault, or seen betray; +He has the Muses by the heart, +And the stern Parcae on his part. + +His many signs cannot be told; +He has not one mode, but manifold, +Many fashions and addresses, +Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses. +He will preach like a friar, +And jump like Harlequin; +He will read like a crier, +And fight like a Paladin. +Boundless is his memory; +Plans immense his term prolong; +He is not of counted age, +Meaning always to be young. +And his wish is intimacy, +Intimater intimacy, +And a stricter privacy; +The impossible shall yet be done, +And, being two, shall still be one. +As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, +Then runs into a wave again, +So lovers melt their sundered selves, +Yet melted would be twain. + + + +II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + +Man was made of social earth, +Child and brother from his birth, +Tethered by a liquid cord +Of blood through veins of kindred poured. +Next his heart the fireside band +Of mother, father, sister, stand; +Names from awful childhood heard +Throbs of a wild religion stirred;-- +Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; +Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, +Till Beauty came to snap all ties; +The maid, abolishing the past, +With lotus wine obliterates +Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, +And, by herself, supplants alone +Friends year by year more inly known. +When her calm eyes opened bright, +All else grew foreign in their light. +It was ever the self-same tale, +The first experience will not fail; +Only two in the garden walked, +And with snake and seraph talked. + +Close, close to men, +Like undulating layer of air, +Right above their heads, +The potent plain of Daemons spreads. +Stands to each human soul its own, +For watch and ward and furtherance, +In the snares of Nature's dance; +And the lustre and the grace +To fascinate each youthful heart, +Beaming from its counterpart, +Translucent through the mortal covers, +Is the Daemon's form and face. +To and fro the Genius hies,-- +A gleam which plays and hovers +Over the maiden's head, +And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. +Unknown, albeit lying near, +To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; +And they that swiftly come and go +Leave no track on the heavenly snow. +Sometimes the airy synod bends, +And the mighty choir descends, +And the brains of men thenceforth, +In crowded and in still resorts, +Teem with unwonted thoughts: +As, when a shower of meteors +Cross the orbit of the earth, +And, lit by fringent air, +Blaze near and far, +Mortals deem the planets bright +Have slipped their sacred bars, +And the lone seaman all the night +Sails, astonished, amid stars. + +Beauty of a richer vein, +Graces of a subtler strain, +Unto men these moonmen lend, +And our shrinking sky extend. +So is man's narrow path +By strength and terror skirted; +Also (from the song the wrath +Of the Genii be averted! +The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) +The Daemons are self-seeking: +Their fierce and limitary will +Draws men to their likeness still. +The erring painter made Love blind,-- +Highest Love who shines on all; +Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted god, +None can bewilder; +Whose eyes pierce +The universe, +Path-finder, road-builder, +Mediator, royal giver; +Rightly seeing, rightly seen, +Of joyful and transparent mien. +'T is a sparkle passing +From each to each, from thee to me, +To and fro perpetually; +Sharing all, daring all, +Levelling, displacing +Each obstruction, it unites +Equals remote, and seeming opposites. +And ever and forever Love +Delights to build a road: +Unheeded Danger near him strides, +Love laughs, and on a lion rides. +But Cupid wears another face, +Born into Daemons less divine: +His roses bleach apace, +His nectar smacks of wine. +The Daemon ever builds a wall, +Himself encloses and includes, +Solitude in solitudes: +In like sort his love doth fall. +He doth elect +The beautiful and fortunate, +And the sons of intellect, +And the souls of ample fate, +Who the Future's gates unbar,-- +Minions of the Morning Star. +In his prowess he exults, +And the multitude insults. +His impatient looks devour +Oft the humble and the poor; +And, seeing his eye glare, +They drop their few pale flowers, +Gathered with hope to please, +Along the mountain towers,-- +Lose courage, and despair. +He will never be gainsaid,-- +Pitiless, will not be stayed; +His hot tyranny +Burns up every other tie. +Therefore comes an hour from Jove +Which his ruthless will defies, +And the dogs of Fate unties. +Shiver the palaces of glass; +Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, +Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt +Secure as in the zodiac's belt; +And the galleries and halls, +Wherein every siren sung, +Like a meteor pass. +For this fortune wanted root +In the core of God's abysm,-- +Was a weed of self and schism; +And ever the Daemonic Love +Is the ancestor of wars +And the parent of remorse. + + + +III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + +But God said, +'I will have a purer gift; +There is smoke in the flame; +New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, +And love without a name. +Fond children, ye desire +To please each other well; +Another round, a higher, +Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, +And selfish preference forbear; +And in right deserving, +And without a swerving +Each from your proper state, +Weave roses for your mate. + +'Deep, deep are loving eyes, +Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet; +And the point is paradise, +Where their glances meet: +Their reach shall yet be more profound, +And a vision without bound: +The axis of those eyes sun-clear +Be the axis of the sphere: +So shall the lights ye pour amain +Go, without check or intervals, +Through from the empyrean walls +Unto the same again.' + +Higher far into the pure realm, +Over sun and star, +Over the flickering Daemon film, +Thou must mount for love; +Into vision where all form +In one only form dissolves; +In a region where the wheel +On which all beings ride +Visibly revolves; +Where the starred, eternal worm +Girds the world with bound and term; +Where unlike things are like; +Where good and ill, +And joy and moan, +Melt into one. + +There Past, Present, Future, shoot +Triple blossoms from one root; +Substances at base divided, +In their summits are united; +There the holy essence rolls, +One through separated souls; +And the sunny Aeon sleeps +Folding Nature in its deeps, +And every fair and every good, +Known in part, or known impure, +To men below, +In their archetypes endure. +The race of gods, +Or those we erring own, +Are shadows flitting up and down +In the still abodes. +The circles of that sea are laws +Which publish and which hide the cause. + +Pray for a beam +Out of that sphere, +Thee to guide and to redeem. +O, what a load +Of care and toil, +By lying use bestowed, +From his shoulders falls who sees +The true astronomy, +The period of peace. +Counsel which the ages kept +Shall the well-born soul accept. +As the overhanging trees +Fill the lake with images,-- +As garment draws the garment's hem, +Men their fortunes bring with them. +By right or wrong, +Lands and goods go to the strong. +Property will brutely draw +Still to the proprietor; +Silver to silver creep and wind, +And kind to kind. + +Nor less the eternal poles +Of tendency distribute souls. +There need no vows to bind +Whom not each other seek, but find. +They give and take no pledge or oath,-- +Nature is the bond of both: +No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,-- +Their noble meanings are their pawns. +Plain and cold is their address, +Power have they for tenderness; +And, so thoroughly is known +Each other's counsel by his own, +They can parley without meeting; +Need is none of forms of greeting; +They can well communicate +In their innermost estate; +When each the other shall avoid, +Shall each by each be most enjoyed. + +Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves +Do these celebrate their loves: +Not by jewels, feasts and savors, +Not by ribbons or by favors, +But by the sun-spark on the sea, +And the cloud-shadow on the lea, +The soothing lapse of morn to mirk, +And the cheerful round of work. +Their cords of love so public are, +They intertwine the farthest star: +The throbbing sea, the quaking earth, +Yield sympathy and signs of mirth; +Is none so high, so mean is none, +But feels and seals this union; +Even the fell Furies are appeased, +The good applaud, the lost are eased. + +Love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, +Bound for the just, but not beyond; +Not glad, as the low-loving herd, +Of self in other still preferred, +But they have heartily designed +The benefit of broad mankind. +And they serve men austerely, +After their own genius, clearly, +Without a false humility; +For this is Love's nobility,-- +Not to scatter bread and gold, +Goods and raiment bought and sold; +But to hold fast his simple sense, +And speak the speech of innocence, +And with hand and body and blood, +To make his bosom-counsel good. +He that feeds men serveth few; +He serves all who dares be true. + + + +THE APOLOGY + +Think me not unkind and rude + That I walk alone in grove and glen; +I go to the god of the wood + To fetch his word to men. + +Tax not my sloth that I + Fold my arms beside the brook; +Each cloud that floated in the sky + Writes a letter in my book. + +Chide me not, laborious band, + For the idle flowers I brought; +Every aster in my hand + Goes home loaded with a thought. + +There was never mystery + But 'tis figured in the flowers; +Was never secret history + But birds tell it in the bowers. + +One harvest from thy field + Homeward brought the oxen strong; +A second crop thine acres yield, + Which I gather in a song. + + + +MERLIN I + +Thy trivial harp will never please +Or fill my craving ear; +Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, +Free, peremptory, clear. +No jingling serenader's art, +Nor tinkle of piano strings, +Can make the wild blood start +In its mystic springs. +The kingly bard +Must smite the chords rudely and hard, +As with hammer or with mace; +That they may render back +Artful thunder, which conveys +Secrets of the solar track, +Sparks of the supersolar blaze. +Merlin's blows are strokes of fate, +Chiming with the forest tone, +When boughs buffet boughs in the wood; +Chiming with the gasp and moan +Of the ice-imprisoned flood; +With the pulse of manly hearts; +With the voice of orators; +With the din of city arts; +With the cannonade of wars; +With the marches of the brave; +And prayers of might from martyrs' cave. + +Great is the art, +Great be the manners, of the bard. +He shall not his brain encumber +With the coil of rhythm and number; +But, leaving rule and pale forethought, +He shall aye climb +For his rhyme. +'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, +'In to the upper doors, +Nor count compartments of the floors, +But mount to paradise +By the stairway of surprise.' + +Blameless master of the games, +King of sport that never shames, +He shall daily joy dispense +Hid in song's sweet influence. +Forms more cheerly live and go, +What time the subtle mind +Sings aloud the tune whereto +Their pulses beat, +And march their feet, +And their members are combined. + +By Sybarites beguiled, +He shall no task decline; +Merlin's mighty line +Extremes of nature reconciled,-- +Bereaved a tyrant of his will, +And made the lion mild. +Songs can the tempest still, +Scattered on the stormy air, +Mould the year to fair increase, +And bring in poetic peace. + +He shall not seek to weave, +In weak, unhappy times, +Efficacious rhymes; +Wait his returning strength. +Bird that from the nadir's floor +To the zenith's top can soar,-- +The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length. +Nor profane affect to hit +Or compass that, by meddling wit, +Which only the propitious mind +Publishes when 't is inclined. +There are open hours +When the God's will sallies free, +And the dull idiot might see +The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;-- +Sudden, at unawares, +Self-moved, fly-to the doors. +Nor sword of angels could reveal +What they conceal. + + + +MERLIN II + +The rhyme of the poet +Modulates the king's affairs; +Balance-loving Nature +Made all things in pairs. +To every foot its antipode; +Each color with its counter glowed; +To every tone beat answering tones, +Higher or graver; +Flavor gladly blends with flavor; +Leaf answers leaf upon the bough; +And match the paired cotyledons. +Hands to hands, and feet to feet, +In one body grooms and brides; +Eldest rite, two married sides +In every mortal meet. +Light's far furnace shines, +Smelting balls and bars, +Forging double stars, +Glittering twins and trines. +The animals are sick with love, +Lovesick with rhyme; +Each with all propitious Time +Into chorus wove. + +Like the dancers' ordered band, +Thoughts come also hand in hand; +In equal couples mated, +Or else alternated; +Adding by their mutual gage, +One to other, health and age. +Solitary fancies go +Short-lived wandering to and fro, +Most like to bachelors, +Or an ungiven maid, +Not ancestors, +With no posterity to make the lie afraid, +Or keep truth undecayed. +Perfect-paired as eagle's wings, +Justice is the rhyme of things; +Trade and counting use +The self-same tuneful muse; +And Nemesis, +Who with even matches odd, +Who athwart space redresses +The partial wrong, +Fills the just period, +And finishes the song. + +Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife, +Murmur in the house of life, +Sung by the Sisters as they spin; +In perfect time and measure they +Build and unbuild our echoing clay. +As the two twilights of the day +Fold us music-drunken in. + + + +BACCHUS + +Bring me wine, but wine which never grew +In the belly of the grape, +Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through, +Under the Andes to the Cape, +Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. + +Let its grapes the morn salute +From a nocturnal root, +Which feels the acrid juice +Of Styx and Erebus; +And turns the woe of Night, +By its own craft, to a more rich delight. + +We buy ashes for bread; +We buy diluted wine; +Give me of the true,-- +Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled +Among the silver hills of heaven +Draw everlasting dew; +Wine of wine, +Blood of the world, +Form of forms, and mould of statures, +That I intoxicated, +And by the draught assimilated, +May float at pleasure through all natures; +The bird-language rightly spell, +And that which roses say so well. + +Wine that is shed +Like the torrents of the sun +Up the horizon walls, +Or like the Atlantic streams, which run +When the South Sea calls. + +Water and bread, +Food which needs no transmuting, +Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, +Wine which is already man, +Food which teach and reason can. + +Wine which Music is,-- +Music and wine are one,-- +That I, drinking this, +Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; +Kings unborn shall walk with me; +And the poor grass shall plot and plan +What it will do when it is man. +Quickened so, will I unlock +Every crypt of every rock. + +I thank the joyful juice +For all I know;-- +Winds of remembering +Of the ancient being blow, +And seeming-solid walls of use +Open and flow. + +Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; +Retrieve the loss of me and mine! +Vine for vine be antidote, +And the grape requite the lote! +Haste to cure the old despair,-- +Reason in Nature's lotus drenched, +The memory of ages quenched; +Give them again to shine; +Let wine repair what this undid; +And where the infection slid, +A dazzling memory revive; +Refresh the faded tints, +Recut the aged prints, +And write my old adventures with the pen +Which on the first day drew, +Upon the tablets blue, +The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. + + + +MEROPS + +What care I, so they stand the same,-- + Things of the heavenly mind,-- +How long the power to give them name + Tarries yet behind? + +Thus far to-day your favors reach, + O fair, appeasing presences! +Ye taught my lips a single speech, + And a thousand silences. + +Space grants beyond his fated road + No inch to the god of day; +And copious language still bestowed + One word, no more, to say. + + + +THE HOUSE + +There is no architect + Can build as the Muse can; +She is skilful to select + Materials for her plan; + +Slow and warily to choose + Rafters of immortal pine, +Or cedar incorruptible, + Worthy her design, + +She threads dark Alpine forests + Or valleys by the sea, +In many lands, with painful steps, + Ere she can find a tree. + +She ransacks mines and ledges + And quarries every rock, +To hew the famous adamant + For each eternal block-- + +She lays her beams in music, + In music every one, +To the cadence of the whirling world + Which dances round the sun-- + +That so they shall not be displaced + By lapses or by wars, +But for the love of happy souls + Outlive the newest stars. + + + +SAADI + +Trees in groves, +Kine in droves, +In ocean sport the scaly herds, +Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, +To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, +Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, +Men consort in camp and town, +But the poet dwells alone. + +God, who gave to him the lyre, +Of all mortals the desire, +For all breathing men's behoof, +Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;' +Annexed a warning, poets say, +To the bright premium,-- +Ever, when twain together play, +Shall the harp be dumb. + +Many may come, +But one shall sing; +Two touch the string, +The harp is dumb. +Though there come a million, +Wise Saadi dwells alone. + +Yet Saadi loved the race of men,-- +No churl, immured in cave or den; +In bower and hall +He wants them all, +Nor can dispense +With Persia for his audience; +They must give ear, +Grow red with joy and white with fear; +But he has no companion; +Come ten, or come a million, +Good Saadi dwells alone. + +Be thou ware where Saadi dwells; +Wisdom of the gods is he,-- +Entertain it reverently. +Gladly round that golden lamp +Sylvan deities encamp, +And simple maids and noble youth +Are welcome to the man of truth. +Most welcome they who need him most, +They feed the spring which they exhaust; +For greater need +Draws better deed: +But, critic, spare thy vanity, +Nor show thy pompous parts, +To vex with odious subtlety +The cheerer of men's hearts. + +Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say +Endless dirges to decay, +Never in the blaze of light +Lose the shudder of midnight; +Pale at overflowing noon +Hear wolves barking at the moon; +In the bower of dalliance sweet +Hear the far Avenger's feet: +And shake before those awful Powers, +Who in their pride forgive not ours. +Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach: +'Bard, when thee would Allah teach, +And lift thee to his holy mount, +He sends thee from his bitter fount +Wormwood,--saying, "Go thy ways; +Drink not the Malaga of praise, +But do the deed thy fellows hate, +And compromise thy peaceful state; +Smite the white breasts which thee fed. +Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head +Of them thou shouldst have comforted; +For out of woe and out of crime +Draws the heart a lore sublime."' +And yet it seemeth not to me +That the high gods love tragedy; +For Saadi sat in the sun, +And thanks was his contrition; +For haircloth and for bloody whips, +Had active hands and smiling lips; +And yet his runes he rightly read, +And to his folk his message sped. +Sunshine in his heart transferred +Lighted each transparent word, +And well could honoring Persia learn +What Saadi wished to say; +For Saadi's nightly stars did burn +Brighter than Jami's day. + +Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot: +'O gentle Saadi, listen not, +Tempted by thy praise of wit, +Or by thirst and appetite +For the talents not thine own, +To sons of contradiction. +Never, son of eastern morning, +Follow falsehood, follow scorning. +Denounce who will, who will deny, +And pile the hills to scale the sky; +Let theist, atheist, pantheist, +Define and wrangle how they list, +Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,-- +But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer, +Unknowing war, unknowing crime, +Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme; +Heed not what the brawlers say, +Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + +'Let the great world bustle on +With war and trade, with camp and town; +A thousand men shall dig and eat; +At forge and furnace thousands sweat; +And thousands sail the purple sea, +And give or take the stroke of war, +Or crowd the market and bazaar; +Oft shall war end, and peace return, +And cities rise where cities burn, +Ere one man my hill shall climb, +Who can turn the golden rhyme. +Let them manage how they may, +Heed thou only Saadi's lay. +Seek the living among the dead,-- +Man in man is imprisonèd; +Barefooted Dervish is not poor, +If fate unlock his bosom's door, +So that what his eye hath seen +His tongue can paint as bright, as keen; +And what his tender heart hath felt +With equal fire thy heart shalt melt. +For, whom the Muses smile upon, +And touch with soft persuasion, +His words like a storm-wind can bring +Terror and beauty on their wing; +In his every syllable +Lurketh Nature veritable; +And though he speak in midnight dark,-- +In heaven no star, on earth no spark,-- +Yet before the listener's eye +Swims the world in ecstasy, +The forest waves, the morning breaks, +The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes, +Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be, +And life pulsates in rock or tree. +Saadi, so far thy words shall reach: +Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!' + +And thus to Saadi said the Muse: +'Eat thou the bread which men refuse; +Flee from the goods which from thee flee; +Seek nothing,--Fortune seeketh thee. +Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep +The midway of the eternal deep. +Wish not to fill the isles with eyes +To fetch thee birds of paradise: +On thine orchard's edge belong +All the brags of plume and song; +Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass +For proverbs in the market-place: +Through mountains bored by regal art, +Toil whistles as he drives his cart. +Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind, +A poet or a friend to find: +Behold, he watches at the door! +Behold his shadow on the floor! +Open innumerable doors +The heaven where unveiled Allah pours +The flood of truth, the flood of good, +The Seraph's and the Cherub's food. +Those doors are men: the Pariah hind +Admits thee to the perfect Mind. +Seek not beyond thy cottage wall +Redeemers that can yield thee all: +While thou sittest at thy door +On the desert's yellow floor, +Listening to the gray-haired crones, +Foolish gossips, ancient drones, +Saadi, see! they rise in stature +To the height of mighty Nature, +And the secret stands revealed +Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,-- +That blessed gods in servile masks +Plied for thee thy household tasks.' + + + +HOLIDAYS + +From fall to spring, the russet acorn, + Fruit beloved of maid and boy, +Lent itself beneath the forest, + To be the children's toy. + +Pluck it now! In vain,--thou canst not; + Its root has pierced yon shady mound; +Toy no longer--it has duties; + It is anchored in the ground. + +Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, + Playfellow of young and old, +Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, + More dear to one than mines of gold. + +Whither went the lovely hoyden? + Disappeared in blessed wife; +Servant to a wooden cradle, + Living in a baby's life. + +Still thou playest;--short vacation + Fate grants each to stand aside; +Now must thou be man and artist,-- + 'T is the turning of the tide. + + + +XENOPHANES + +By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave +One scent to hyson and to wall-flower, +One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls, +One aspect to the desert and the lake. +It was her stern necessity: all things +Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower, +Song, picture, form, space, thought and character +Deceive us, seeming to be many things, +And are but one. Beheld far off, they part +As God and devil; bring them to the mind, +They dull its edge with their monotony. +To know one element, explore another, +And in the second reappears the first. +The specious panorama of a year +But multiplies the image of a day,-- +A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame; +And universal Nature, through her vast +And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, +Repeats one note. + + + +THE DAY'S RATION + + When I was born, +From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, +Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice, +Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw +From my great arteries,--nor less, nor more.' +All substances the cunning chemist Time +Melts down into that liquor of my life,-- +Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust. +And whether I am angry or content, +Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt, +All he distils into sidereal wine +And brims my little cup; heedless, alas! +Of all he sheds how little it will hold, +How much runs over on the desert sands. +If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray, +And I uplift myself into its heaven, +The needs of the first sight absorb my blood, +And all the following hours of the day +Drag a ridiculous age. +To-day, when friends approach, and every hour +Brings book, or starbright scroll of genius, +The little cup will hold not a bead more, +And all the costly liquor runs to waste; +Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond drop +So to be husbanded for poorer days. +Why need I volumes, if one word suffice? +Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught +After the master's sketch fills and o'erfills +My apprehension? Why seek Italy, +Who cannot circumnavigate the sea +Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn +The nearest matters for a thousand days? + + + +BLIGHT + + Give me truths; +For I am weary of the surfaces, +And die of inanition. If I knew +Only the herbs and simples of the wood, +Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, +Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, +Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew, +And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods +Draw untold juices from the common earth, +Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell +Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply +By sweet affinities to human flesh, +Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,-- +O, that were much, and I could be a part +Of the round day, related to the sun +And planted world, and full executor +Of their imperfect functions. +But these young scholars, who invade our hills, +Bold as the engineer who fells the wood, +And travelling often in the cut he makes, +Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, +And all their botany is Latin names. +The old men studied magic in the flowers, +And human fortunes in astronomy, +And an omnipotence in chemistry, +Preferring things to names, for these were men, +Were unitarians of the united world, +And, wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell, +They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes +Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, +And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, +And strangers to the plant and to the mine. +The injured elements say, 'Not in us;' +And night and day, ocean and continent, +Fire, plant and mineral say, 'Not in us;' +And haughtily return us stare for stare. +For we invade them impiously for gain; +We devastate them unreligiously, +And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. +Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us +Only what to our griping toil is due; +But the sweet affluence of love and song, +The rich results of the divine consents +Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover, +The nectar and ambrosia, are withheld; +And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves +And pirates of the universe, shut out +Daily to a more thin and outward rind, +Turn pale and starve. Therefore, to our sick eyes, +The stunted trees look sick, the summer short, +Clouds shade the sun, which will not tan our hay, +And nothing thrives to reach its natural term; +And life, shorn of its venerable length, +Even at its greatest space is a defeat, +And dies in anger that it was a dupe; +And, in its highest noon and wantonness, +Is early frugal, like a beggar's child; +Even in the hot pursuit of the best aims +And prizes of ambition, checks its hand, +Like Alpine cataracts frozen as they leaped, +Chilled with a miserly comparison +Of the toy's purchase with the length of life. + + + +MUSKETAQUID + +Because I was content with these poor fields, +Low, open meads, slender and sluggish streams, +And found a home in haunts which others scorned, +The partial wood-gods overpaid my love, +And granted me the freedom of their state, +And in their secret senate have prevailed +With the dear, dangerous lords that rule our life, +Made moon and planets parties to their bond, +And through my rock-like, solitary wont +Shot million rays of thought and tenderness. +For me, in showers, in sweeping showers, the Spring +Visits the valley;--break away the clouds,-- +I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air, +And loiter willing by yon loitering stream. +Sparrows far off, and nearer, April's bird, +Blue-coated,--flying before from tree to tree, +Courageous sing a delicate overture +To lead the tardy concert of the year. +Onward and nearer rides the sun of May; +And wide around, the marriage of the plants +Is sweetly solemnized. Then flows amain +The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag, +Hollow and lake, hillside and pine arcade, +Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff +Has thousand faces in a thousand hours. + +Beneath low hills, in the broad interval +Through which at will our Indian rivulet +Winds mindful still of sannup and of squaw, +Whose pipe and arrow oft the plough unburies, +Here in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, +Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell. +Traveller, to thee, perchance, a tedious road, +Or, it may be, a picture; to these men, +The landscape is an armory of powers, +Which, one by one, they know to draw and use. +They harness beast, bird, insect, to their work; +They prove the virtues of each bed of rock, +And, like the chemist 'mid his loaded jars, +Draw from each stratum its adapted use +To drug their crops or weapon their arts withal. +They turn the frost upon their chemic heap, +They set the wind to winnow pulse and grain, +They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime, +And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow, +Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods +O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year, +They fight the elements with elements +(That one would say, meadow and forest walked, +Transmuted in these men to rule their like), +And by the order in the field disclose +The order regnant in the yeoman's brain. + +What these strong masters wrote at large in miles, +I followed in small copy in my acre; +For there's no rood has not a star above it; +The cordial quality of pear or plum +Ascends as gladly in a single tree +As in broad orchards resonant with bees; +And every atom poises for itself, +And for the whole. The gentle deities +Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds, +The innumerable tenements of beauty. +The miracle of generative force, +Far-reaching concords of astronomy +Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds; +Better, the linked purpose of the whole, +And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty +In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave. +The polite found me impolite; the great +Would mortify me, but in vain; for still +I am a willow of the wilderness, +Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts +My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk, +A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush, +A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine, +Salve my worst wounds. +For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear: +'Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie? +Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass +Into the winter night's extinguished mood? +Canst thou shine now, then darkle, +And being latent, feel thyself no less? +As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye, +The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure, +Yet envies none, none are unenviable.' + + + +DIRGE + +CONCORD, 1838 + + +I reached the middle of the mount + Up which the incarnate soul must climb, +And paused for them, and looked around, + With me who walked through space and time. + +Five rosy boys with morning light + Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, +Fronted the sun with hope as bright, + And greeted God with childhood's psalms. + +Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, +What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn? + +In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts; +I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts. + +The winding Concord gleamed below, + Pouring as wide a flood +As when my brothers, long ago, + Came with me to the wood. + +But they are gone,--the holy ones + Who trod with me this lovely vale; +The strong, star-bright companions + Are silent, low and pale. + +My good, my noble, in their prime, + Who made this world the feast it was +Who learned with me the lore of time, + Who loved this dwelling-place! + +They took this valley for their toy, + They played with it in every mood; +A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,-- + They treated Nature as they would. + +They colored the horizon round; + Stars flamed and faded as they bade, +All echoes hearkened for their sound,-- + They made the woodlands glad or mad. + +I touch this flower of silken leaf, + Which once our childhood knew; +Its soft leaves wound me with a grief + Whose balsam never grew. + +Hearken to yon pine-warbler + Singing aloft in the tree! +Hearest thou, O traveller, + What he singeth to me? + +Not unless God made sharp thine ear + With sorrow such as mine, +Out of that delicate lay could'st thou + Its heavy tale divine. + +'Go, lonely man,' it saith; + 'They loved thee from their birth; +Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,-- + There are no such hearts on earth. + +'Ye drew one mother's milk, + One chamber held ye all; +A very tender history + Did in your childhood fall. + +'You cannot unlock your heart, + The key is gone with them; +The silent organ loudest chants + The master's requiem.' + + + +THRENODY + +The South-wind brings +Life, sunshine and desire, +And on every mount and meadow +Breathes aromatic fire; +But over the dead he has no power, +The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; +And, looking over the hills, I mourn +The darling who shall not return. + +I see my empty house, +I see my trees repair their boughs; +And he, the wondrous child, +Whose silver warble wild +Outvalued every pulsing sound +Within the air's cerulean round,-- +The hyacinthine boy, for whom +Morn well might break and April bloom, +The gracious boy, who did adorn +The world whereinto he was born, +And by his countenance repay +The favor of the loving Day,-- +Has disappeared from the Day's eye; +Far and wide she cannot find him; +My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him. +Returned this day, the South-wind searches, +And finds young pines and budding birches; +But finds not the budding man; +Nature, who lost, cannot remake him; +Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him; +Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain. + +And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, +O, whither tend thy feet? +I had the right, few days ago, +Thy steps to watch, thy place to know: +How have I forfeited the right? +Hast thou forgot me in a new delight? +I hearken for thy household cheer, +O eloquent child! +Whose voice, an equal messenger, +Conveyed thy meaning mild. +What though the pains and joys +Whereof it spoke were toys +Fitting his age and ken, +Yet fairest dames and bearded men, +Who heard the sweet request, +So gentle, wise and grave, +Bended with joy to his behest +And let the world's affairs go by, +A while to share his cordial game, +Or mend his wicker wagon-frame, +Still plotting how their hungry fear +That winsome voice again might hear; +For his lips could well pronounce +Words that were persuasions. + +Gentlest guardians marked serene +His early hope, his liberal mien; +Took counsel from his guiding eyes +To make this wisdom earthly wise. +Ah, vainly do these eyes recall +The school-march, each day's festival, +When every morn my bosom glowed +To watch the convoy on the road; +The babe in willow wagon closed, +With rolling eyes and face composed; +With children forward and behind, +Like Cupids studiously inclined; +And he the chieftain paced beside, +The centre of the troop allied, +With sunny face of sweet repose, +To guard the babe from fancied foes. +The little captain innocent +Took the eye with him as he went; +Each village senior paused to scan +And speak the lovely caravan. +From the window I look out +To mark thy beautiful parade, +Stately marching in cap and coat +To some tune by fairies played;-- +A music heard by thee alone +To works as noble led thee on. + +Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, +Up and down their glances strain. +The painted sled stands where it stood; +The kennel by the corded wood; +His gathered sticks to stanch the wall +Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; +The ominous hole he dug in the sand, +And childhood's castles built or planned; +His daily haunts I well discern,-- +The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,-- +And every inch of garden ground +Paced by the blessed feet around, +From the roadside to the brook +Whereinto he loved to look. +Step the meek fowls where erst they ranged; +The wintry garden lies unchanged; +The brook into the stream runs on; +But the deep-eyed boy is gone. + +On that shaded day, +Dark with more clouds than tempests are, +When thou didst yield thy innocent breath +In birdlike heavings unto death, +Night came, and Nature had not thee; +I said, 'We are mates in misery.' +The morrow dawned with needless glow; +Each snowbird chirped, each fowl must crow; +Each tramper started; but the feet +Of the most beautiful and sweet +Of human youth had left the hill +And garden,--they were bound and still. +There's not a sparrow or a wren, +There's not a blade of autumn grain, +Which the four seasons do not tend +And tides of life and increase lend; +And every chick of every bird, +And weed and rock-moss is preferred. +O ostrich-like forgetfulness! +O loss of larger in the less! +Was there no star that could be sent, +No watcher in the firmament, +No angel from the countless host +That loiters round the crystal coast, +Could stoop to heal that only child, +Nature's sweet marvel undefiled, +And keep the blossom of the earth, +Which all her harvests were not worth? +Not mine,--I never called thee mine, +But Nature's heir,--if I repine, +And seeing rashly torn and moved +Not what I made, but what I loved, +Grow early old with grief that thou +Must to the wastes of Nature go,-- +'T is because a general hope +Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope. +For flattering planets seemed to say +This child should ills of ages stay, +By wondrous tongue, and guided pen, +Bring the flown Muses back to men. +Perchance not he but Nature ailed, +The world and not the infant failed. +It was not ripe yet to sustain +A genius of so fine a strain, +Who gazed upon the sun and moon +As if he came unto his own, +And, pregnant with his grander thought, +Brought the old order into doubt. +His beauty once their beauty tried; +They could not feed him, and he died, +And wandered backward as in scorn, +To wait an aeon to be born. +Ill day which made this beauty waste, +Plight broken, this high face defaced! +Some went and came about the dead; +And some in books of solace read; +Some to their friends the tidings say; +Some went to write, some went to pray; +One tarried here, there hurried one; +But their heart abode with none. +Covetous death bereaved us all, +To aggrandize one funeral. +The eager fate which carried thee +Took the largest part of me: +For this losing is true dying; +This is lordly man's down-lying, +This his slow but sure reclining, +Star by star his world resigning. + +O child of paradise, +Boy who made dear his father's home, +In whose deep eyes +Men read the welfare of the times to come, +I am too much bereft. +The world dishonored thou hast left. +O truth's and nature's costly lie! +O trusted broken prophecy! +O richest fortune sourly crossed! +Born for the future, to the future lost! + +The deep Heart answered, 'Weepest thou? +Worthier cause for passion wild +If I had not taken the child. +And deemest thou as those who pore, +With aged eyes, short way before,-- +Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast +Of matter, and thy darling lost? +Taught he not thee--the man of eld, +Whose eyes within his eyes beheld +Heaven's numerous hierarchy span +The mystic gulf from God to man? +To be alone wilt thou begin +When worlds of lovers hem thee in? +To-morrow, when the masks shall fall +That dizen Nature's carnival, +The pure shall see by their own will, +Which overflowing Love shall fill, +'T is not within the force of fate +The fate-conjoined to separate. +But thou, my votary, weepest thou? +I gave thee sight--where is it now? +I taught thy heart beyond the reach +Of ritual, bible, or of speech; +Wrote in thy mind's transparent table, +As far as the incommunicable; +Taught thee each private sign to raise +Lit by the supersolar blaze. +Past utterance, and past belief, +And past the blasphemy of grief, +The mysteries of Nature's heart; +And though no Muse can these impart, +Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, +And all is clear from east to west. + +'I came to thee as to a friend; +Dearest, to thee I did not send +Tutors, but a joyful eye, +Innocence that matched the sky, +Lovely locks, a form of wonder, +Laughter rich as woodland thunder, +That thou might'st entertain apart +The richest flowering of all art: +And, as the great all-loving Day +Through smallest chambers takes its way, +That thou might'st break thy daily bread +With prophet, savior and head; +That thou might'st cherish for thine own +The riches of sweet Mary's Son, +Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon. +And thoughtest thou such guest +Would in thy hall take up his rest? +Would rushing life forget her laws, +Fate's glowing revolution pause? +High omens ask diviner guess; +Not to be conned to tediousness +And know my higher gifts unbind +The zone that girds the incarnate mind. +When the scanty shores are full +With Thought's perilous, whirling pool; +When frail Nature can no more, +Then the Spirit strikes the hour: +My servant Death, with solving rite, +Pours finite into infinite. +Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow, +Whose streams through Nature circling go? +Nail the wild star to its track +On the half-climbed zodiac? +Light is light which radiates, +Blood is blood which circulates, +Life is life which generates, +And many-seeming life is one,-- +Wilt thou transfix and make it none? +Its onward force too starkly pent +In figure, bone and lineament? +Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, +Talker! the unreplying Fate? +Nor see the genius of the whole +Ascendant in the private soul, +Beckon it when to go and come, +Self-announced its hour of doom? +Fair the soul's recess and shrine, +Magic-built to last a season; +Masterpiece of love benign, +Fairer that expansive reason +Whose omen 'tis, and sign. +Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know +What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? +Verdict which accumulates +From lengthening scroll of human fates, +Voice of earth to earth returned, +Prayers of saints that inly burned,-- +Saying, _What is excellent,_ +_As God lives, is permanent;_ +_Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;_ +_Heart's love will meet thee again._ +Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye +Up to his style, and manners of the sky. +Not of adamant and gold +Built he heaven stark and cold; +No, but a nest of bending reeds, +Flowering grass and scented weeds; +Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, +Or bow above the tempest bent; +Built of tears and sacred flames, +And virtue reaching to its aims; +Built of furtherance and pursuing, +Not of spent deeds, but of doing. +Silent rushes the swift Lord +Through ruined systems still restored, +Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, +Plants with worlds the wilderness; +Waters with tears of ancient sorrow +Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. +House and tenant go to ground, +Lost in God, in Godhead found.' + + + +CONCORD HYMN + +SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE +MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837 + +By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, +Here once the embattled farmers stood + And fired the shot heard round the world. + +The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; +And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + +On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; +That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + +Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, +Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and thee. + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + + * * * * * + + + +MAY-DAY + +Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, +With sudden passion languishing, +Teaching Barren moors to smile, +Painting pictures mile on mile, +Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, +Whence a smokeless incense breathes. +The air is full of whistlings bland; +What was that I heard +Out of the hazy land? +Harp of the wind, or song of bird, +Or vagrant booming of the air, +Voice of a meteor lost in day? +Such tidings of the starry sphere +Can this elastic air convey. +Or haply 'twas the cannonade +Of the pent and darkened lake, +Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade, +Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break, +Afflicted moan, and latest hold +Even into May the iceberg cold. +Was it a squirrel's pettish bark, +Or clarionet of jay? or hark +Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, +Steering north with raucous cry +Through tracts and provinces of sky, +Every night alighting down +In new landscapes of romance, +Where darkling feed the clamorous clans +By lonely lakes to men unknown. +Come the tumult whence it will, +Voice of sport, or rush of wings, +It is a sound, it is a token +That the marble sleep is broken, +And a change has passed on things. + + When late I walked, in earlier days, +All was stiff and stark; +Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, +In the sky no spark; +Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, +Struggling through the drifted roads; +The whited desert knew me not, +Snow-ridges masked each darling spot; +The summer dells, by genius haunted, +One arctic moon had disenchanted. +All the sweet secrets therein hid +By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. +Eldest mason, Frost, had piled +Swift cathedrals in the wild; +The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts +In the star-lit minster aisled. +I found no joy: the icy wind +Might rule the forest to his mind. +Who would freeze on frozen lakes? +Back to books and sheltered home, +And wood-fire flickering on the walls, +To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games, +Without the baffled North-wind calls. +But soft! a sultry morning breaks; +The ground-pines wash their rusty green, +The maple-tops their crimson tint, +On the soft path each track is seen, +The girl's foot leaves its neater print. +The pebble loosened from the frost +Asks of the urchin to be tost. +In flint and marble beats a heart, +The kind Earth takes her children's part, +The green lane is the school-boy's friend, +Low leaves his quarrel apprehend, +The fresh ground loves his top and ball, +The air rings jocund to his call, +The brimming brook invites a leap, +He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. +The youth sees omens where he goes, +And speaks all languages the rose, +The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice +The far halloo of human voice; +The perfumed berry on the spray +Smacks of faint memories far away. +A subtle chain of countless rings +The next into the farthest brings, +And, striving to be man, the worm +Mounts through all the spires of form. + + The caged linnet in the Spring +Hearkens for the choral glee, +When his fellows on the wing +Migrate from the Southern Sea; +When trellised grapes their flowers unmask, +And the new-born tendrils twine, +The old wine darkling in the cask +Feels the bloom on the living vine, +And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: +And so, perchance, in Adam's race, +Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace +Survived the Flight and swam the Flood, +And wakes the wish in youngest blood +To tread the forfeit Paradise, +And feed once more the exile's eyes; +And ever when the happy child +In May beholds the blooming wild, +And hears in heaven the bluebird sing, +'Onward,' he cries, 'your baskets bring,-- +In the next field is air more mild, +And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier spring.' + + Not for a regiment's parade, +Nor evil laws or rulers made, +Blue Walden rolls its cannonade, +But for a lofty sign +Which the Zodiac threw, +That the bondage-days are told. +And waters free as winds shall flow. +Lo! how all the tribes combine +To rout the flying foe. +See, every patriot oak-leaf throws +His elfin length upon the snows, +Not idle, since the leaf all day +Draws to the spot the solar ray, +Ere sunset quarrying inches down, +And halfway to the mosses brown; +While the grass beneath the rime +Has hints of the propitious time, +And upward pries and perforates +Through the cold slab a thousand gates, +Till green lances peering through +Bend happy in the welkin blue. + + As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, +So Spring will not her time forerun, +Mix polar night with tropic glow, +Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, +Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, +But she has the temperance +Of the gods, whereof she is one,-- +Masks her treasury of heat +Under east winds crossed with sleet. +Plants and birds and humble creatures +Well accept her rule austere; +Titan-born, to hardy natures +Cold is genial and dear. +As Southern wrath to Northern right +Is but straw to anthracite; +As in the day of sacrifice, +When heroes piled the pyre, +The dismal Massachusetts ice +Burned more than others' fire, +So Spring guards with surface cold +The garnered heat of ages old. +Hers to sow the seed of bread, +That man and all the kinds be fed; +And, when the sunlight fills the hours, +Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers. + + Beneath the calm, within the light, +A hid unruly appetite +Of swifter life, a surer hope, +Strains every sense to larger scope, +Impatient to anticipate +The halting steps of aged Fate. +Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl: +When Nature falters, fain would zeal +Grasp the felloes of her wheel, +And grasping give the orbs another whirl. +Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball! +And sun this frozen side. +Bring hither back the robin's call, +Bring back the tulip's pride. + + Why chidest thou the tardy Spring? +The hardy bunting does not chide; +The blackbirds make the maples ring +With social cheer and jubilee; +The redwing flutes his _o-ka-lee_, +The robins know the melting snow; +The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed, +Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves, +Secure the osier yet will hide +Her callow brood in mantling leaves,-- +And thou, by science all undone, +Why only must thy reason fail +To see the southing of the sun? + + The world rolls round,--mistrust it not,-- +Befalls again what once befell; +All things return, both sphere and mote, +And I shall hear my bluebird's note, +And dream the dream of Auburn dell. + + April cold with dropping rain +Willows and lilacs brings again, +The whistle of returning birds, +And trumpet-lowing of the herds. +The scarlet maple-keys betray +What potent blood hath modest May, +What fiery force the earth renews, +The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; +What joy in rosy waves outpoured +Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. + + Hither rolls the storm of heat; +I feel its finer billows beat +Like a sea which me infolds; +Heat with viewless fingers moulds, +Swells, and mellows, and matures, +Paints, and flavors, and allures, +Bird and brier inly warms, +Still enriches and transforms, +Gives the reed and lily length, +Adds to oak and oxen strength, +Transforming what it doth infold, +Life out of death, new out of old, +Painting fawns' and leopards' fells, +Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells, +Fires gardens with a joyful blaze +Of tulips, in the morning's rays. +The dead log touched bursts into leaf, +The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf. +What god is this imperial Heat, +Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat? +Doth it bear hidden in its heart +Water-line patterns of all art? +Is it Daedalus? is it Love? +Or walks in mask almighty Jove, +And drops from Power's redundant horn +All seeds of beauty to be born? + + Where shall we keep the holiday, +And duly greet the entering May? +Too strait and low our cottage doors, +And all unmeet our carpet floors; +Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, +Suffice to hold the festival. +Up and away! where haughty woods +Front the liberated floods: +We will climb the broad-backed hills, +Hear the uproar of their joy; +We will mark the leaps and gleams +Of the new-delivered streams, +And the murmuring rivers of sap +Mount in the pipes of the trees, +Giddy with day, to the topmost spire, +Which for a spike of tender green +Bartered its powdery cap; +And the colors of joy in the bird, +And the love in its carol heard, +Frog and lizard in holiday coats, +And turtle brave in his golden spots; +While cheerful cries of crag and plain +Reply to the thunder of river and main. + + As poured the flood of the ancient sea +Spilling over mountain chains, +Bending forests as bends the sedge, +Faster flowing o'er the plains,-- +A world-wide wave with a foaming edge +That rims the running silver sheet,-- +So pours the deluge of the heat +Broad northward o'er the land, +Painting artless paradises, +Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, +Fanning secret fires which glow +In columbine and clover-blow, +Climbing the northern zones, +Where a thousand pallid towns +Lie like cockles by the main, +Or tented armies on a plain. +The million-handed sculptor moulds +Quaintest bud and blossom folds, +The million-handed painter pours +Opal hues and purple dye; +Azaleas flush the island floors, +And the tints of heaven reply. + + Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring +To-day shall all her dowry bring, +The love of kind, the joy, the grace, +Hymen of element and race, +Knowing well to celebrate +With song and hue and star and state, +With tender light and youthful cheer, +The spousals of the new-born year. + + Spring is strong and virtuous, +Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, +Quickening underneath the mould +Grains beyond the price of gold. +So deep and large her bounties are, +That one broad, long midsummer day +Shall to the planet overpay +The ravage of a year of war. + + Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, +And send the nectar round; +The feet that slid so long on sleet +Are glad to feel the ground. +Fill and saturate each kind +With good according to its mind, +Fill each kind and saturate +With good agreeing with its fate, +And soft perfection of its plan-- +Willow and violet, maiden and man. + + The bitter-sweet, the haunting air +Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; +It preys on all, all prey on it. +Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, +Stings the strong with enterprise, +Makes travellers long for Indian skies, +And where it comes this courier fleet +Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, +As if to-morrow should redeem +The vanished rose of evening's dream. +By houses lies a fresher green, +On men and maids a ruddier mien, +As if Time brought a new relay +Of shining virgins every May, +And Summer came to ripen maids +To a beauty that not fades. + + I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth, +Stepping daily onward north +To greet staid ancient cavaliers +Filing single in stately train. +And who, and who are the travellers? +They were Night and Day, and Day and Night, +Pilgrims wight with step forthright. +I saw the Days deformed and low, +Short and bent by cold and snow; +The merry Spring threw wreaths on them, +Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell; +Many a flower and many a gem, +They were refreshed by the smell, +They shook the snow from hats and shoon, +They put their April raiment on; +And those eternal forms, +Unhurt by a thousand storms, +Shot up to the height of the sky again, +And danced as merrily as young men. +I saw them mask their awful glance +Sidewise meek in gossamer lids; +And to speak my thought if none forbids +It was as if the eternal gods, +Tired of their starry periods, +Hid their majesty in cloth +Woven of tulips and painted moth. +On carpets green the maskers march +Below May's well-appointed arch, +Each star, each god; each grace amain, +Every joy and virtue speed, +Marching duly in her train, +And fainting Nature at her need +Is made whole again. + + 'Twas the vintage-day of field and wood, +When magic wine for bards is brewed; +Every tree and stem and chink +Gushed with syrup to the brink. +The air stole into the streets of towns, +Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns, +And betrayed the fund of joy +To the high-school and medalled boy: +On from hall to chamber ran, +From youth to maid, from boy to man, +To babes, and to old eyes as well. +'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds, +Airy turrets purple-piled, +Which once my infancy beguiled, +Beguile me with the wonted spell. +I know ye skilful to convoy +The total freight of hope and joy +Into rude and homely nooks, +Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books, +On farmer's byre, on pasture rude, +And stony pathway to the wood. +I care not if the pomps you show +Be what they soothfast appear, +Or if yon realms in sunset glow +Be bubbles of the atmosphere. +And if it be to you allowed +To fool me with a shining cloud, +So only new griefs are consoled +By new delights, as old by old, +Frankly I will be your guest, +Count your change and cheer the best. +The world hath overmuch of pain,-- +If Nature give me joy again, +Of such deceit I'll not complain.' + + Ah! well I mind the calendar, +Faithful through a thousand years, +Of the painted race of flowers, +Exact to days, exact to hours, +Counted on the spacious dial +Yon broidered zodiac girds. +I know the trusty almanac +Of the punctual coming-back, +On their due days, of the birds. +I marked them yestermorn, +A flock of finches darting +Beneath the crystal arch, +Piping, as they flew, a march,-- +Belike the one they used in parting +Last year from yon oak or larch; +Dusky sparrows in a crowd, +Diving, darting northward free, +Suddenly betook them all, +Every one to his hole in the wall, +Or to his niche in the apple-tree. +I greet with joy the choral trains +Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. +Best gems of Nature's cabinet, +With dews of tropic morning wet, +Beloved of children, bards and Spring, +O birds, your perfect virtues bring, +Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, +Your manners for the heart's delight, +Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, +Here weave your chamber weather-proof, +Forgive our harms, and condescend +To man, as to a lubber friend, +And, generous, teach his awkward race +Courage and probity and grace! + + Poets praise that hidden wine +Hid in milk we drew +At the barrier of Time, +When our life was new. +We had eaten fairy fruit, +We were quick from head to foot, +All the forms we looked on shone +As with diamond dews thereon. +What cared we for costly joys, +The Museum's far-fetched toys? +Gleam of sunshine on the wall +Poured a deeper cheer than all +The revels of the Carnival. +We a pine-grove did prefer +To a marble theatre, +Could with gods on mallows dine, +Nor cared for spices or for wine. +Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned. +Arch on arch, the grimmest land; +Whittle of a woodland bird +Made the pulses dance, +Note of horn in valleys heard +Filled the region with romance. + + None can tell how sweet, +How virtuous, the morning air; +Every accent vibrates well; +Not alone the wood-bird's call, +Or shouting boys that chase their ball, +Pass the height of minstrel skill, +But the ploughman's thoughtless cry, +Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat, +And the joiner's hammer-beat, +Softened are above their will, +Take tones from groves they wandered through +Or flutes which passing angels blew. +All grating discords melt, +No dissonant note is dealt, +And though thy voice be shrill +Like rasping file on steel, +Such is the temper of the air, +Echo waits with art and care, +And will the faults of song repair. + + So by remote Superior Lake, +And by resounding Mackinac, +When northern storms the forest shake, +And billows on the long beach break, +The artful Air will separate +Note by note all sounds that grate, +Smothering in her ample breast +All but godlike words, +Reporting to the happy ear +Only purified accords. +Strangely wrought from barking waves, +Soft music daunts the Indian braves,-- +Convent-chanting which the child +Hears pealing from the panther's cave +And the impenetrable wild. + + Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze: +So on thy broad mystic van +Lie the opal-colored days, +And waft the miracle to man. +Soothsayer of the eldest gods, +Repairer of what harms betide, +Revealer of the inmost powers +Prometheus proffered, Jove denied; +Disclosing treasures more than true, +Or in what far to-morrow due; +Speaking by the tongues of flowers, +By the ten-tongued laurel speaking, +Singing by the oriole songs, +Heart of bird the man's heart seeking; +Whispering hints of treasure hid +Under Morn's unlifted lid, +Islands looming just beyond +The dim horizon's utmost bound;-- +Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid, +Or taunt us with our hope decayed? +Or who like thee persuade, +Making the splendor of the air, +The morn and sparkling dew, a snare? +Or who resent +Thy genius, wiles and blandishment? + + There is no orator prevails +To beckon or persuade +Like thee the youth or maid: +Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales, +Thy blooms, thy kinds, +Thy echoes in the wilderness, +Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress, +Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds. + + For thou, O Spring! canst renovate +All that high God did first create. +Be still his arm and architect, +Rebuild the ruin, mend defect; +Chemist to vamp old worlds with new, +Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue, +New tint the plumage of the birds, +And slough decay from grazing herds, +Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain, +Cleanse the torrent at the fountain, +Purge alpine air by towns defiled, +Bring to fair mother fairer child, +Not less renew the heart and brain, +Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain, +Make the aged eye sun-clear, +To parting soul bring grandeur near. +Under gentle types, my Spring +Masks the might of Nature's king, +An energy that searches thorough +From Chaos to the dawning morrow; +Into all our human plight, +The soul's pilgrimage and flight; +In city or in solitude, +Step by step, lifts bad to good, +Without halting, without rest, +Lifting Better up to Best; +Planting seeds of knowledge pure, +Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure. + + + +THE ADIRONDACS + +A JOURNAL + +DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858 + + Wise and polite,--and if I drew + Their several portraits, you would own + Chaucer had no such worthy crew, + Nor Boccace in Decameron. + +We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends, +Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks +Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach +The Adirondac lakes. At Martin's Beach +We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide,-- +Ten men, ten guides, our company all told. + + Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac, +With skies of benediction, to Round Lake, +Where all the sacred mountains drew around us, +Taháwus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead, +And other Titans without muse or name. +Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on, +Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills. +We made our distance wider, boat from boat, +As each would hear the oracle alone. +By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid +Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets, +Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel-flower, +Through scented banks of lilies white and gold, +Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day, +On through the Upper Saranac, and up +Père Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass +Winding through grassy shallows in and out, +Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge, +To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons. + + Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed, +Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge +Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore. +A pause and council: then, where near the head +Due east a bay makes inward to the land +Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank, +And in the twilight of the forest noon +Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard. +We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts, +Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof, +Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire. + + The wood was sovran with centennial trees,-- +Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir, +Linden and spruce. In strict society +Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine, +Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby, +Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth, +The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower. + + 'Welcome!' the wood-god murmured through the leaves,-- +'Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.' +Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs, +Which o'erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire. +Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks, +Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor. + + Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft +In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed, +Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux, +And greet unanimous the joyful change. +So fast will Nature acclimate her sons, +Though late returning to her pristine ways. +Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold; +And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned, +Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds. +Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air +That circled freshly in their forest dress +Made them to boys again. Happier that they +Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind, +At the first mounting of the giant stairs. +No placard on these rocks warned to the polls, +No door-bell heralded a visitor, +No courier waits, no letter came or went, +Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold; +The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop, +The falling rain will spoil no holiday. +We were made freemen of the forest laws, +All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends, +Essaying nothing she cannot perform. + + In Adirondac lakes +At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded: +Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make +His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain, +He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn: +A paddle in the right hand, or an oar, +And in the left, a gun, his needful arms. +By turns we praised the stature of our guides, +Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill +To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp, +To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs +Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down: +Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount, +And wit to trap or take him in his lair. +Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent, +In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides; +Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired +Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve. + + Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen! +No city airs or arts pass current here. +Your rank is all reversed; let men or cloth +Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls: +_They_ are the doctors of the wilderness, +And we the low-prized laymen. +In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test +Which few can put on with impunity. +What make you, master, fumbling at the oar? +Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here. +The sallow knows the basket-maker's thumb; +The oar, the guide's. Dare you accept the tasks +He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes, +Tell the sun's time, determine the true north, +Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods +To thread by night the nearest way to camp? + + Ask you, how went the hours? +All day we swept the lake, searched every cove, +North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay, +Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, +Or whipping its rough surface for a trout; +Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon; +Challenging Echo by our guns and cries; +Or listening to the laughter of the loon; +Or, in the evening twilight's latest red, +Beholding the procession of the pines; +Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, +In the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter +Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds +Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist. +Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods +Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck +Who stands astonished at the meteor light, +Then turns to bound away,--is it too late? + + Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark, +Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five; +Sometimes their wits at sally and retort, +With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; +Or parties scaled the near acclivities +Competing seekers of a rumored lake, +Whose unauthenticated waves we named +Lake Probability,--our carbuncle, +Long sought, not found. + + Two Doctors in the camp +Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout's brain, +Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew, +Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth; +Insatiate skill in water or in air +Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss; +The while, one leaden got of alcohol +Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds. +Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants, +Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus, +Rosy polygonum, lake-margin's pride, +Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss, +Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls. +Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed, +The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker +Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp. +As water poured through hollows of the hills +To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets, +So Nature shed all beauty lavishly +From her redundant horn. + + Lords of this realm, +Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day +Rounded by hours where each outdid the last +In miracles of pomp, we must be proud, +As if associates of the sylvan gods. +We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac, +So pure the Alpine element we breathed, +So light, so lofty pictures came and went. +We trode on air, contemned the distant town, +Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned +That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge +And how we should come hither with our sons, +Hereafter,--willing they, and more adroit. + + Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery,-- +The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito +Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands: +But, on the second day, we heed them not, +Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries, +Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names. +For who defends our leafy tabernacle +From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd,-- +Who but the midge, mosquito and the fly, +Which past endurance sting the tender cit, +But which we learn to scatter with a smudge, +Or baffle by a veil, or slight by scorn? + + Our foaming ale we drank from hunters' pans, +Ale, and a sup of wine. Our steward gave +Venison and trout, potatoes, beans, wheat-bread; +All ate like abbots, and, if any missed +Their wonted convenance, cheerly hid the loss +With hunters' appetite and peals of mirth. +And Stillman, our guides' guide, and Commodore, +Crusoe, Crusader, Pius Aeneas, said aloud, +"Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating +Food indigestible":--then murmured some, +Others applauded him who spoke the truth. + + Nor doubt but visitings of graver thought +Checked in these souls the turbulent heyday +'Mid all the hints and glories of the home. +For who can tell what sudden privacies +Were sought and found, amid the hue and cry +Of scholars furloughed from their tasks and let +Into this Oreads' fended Paradise, +As chapels in the city's thoroughfares, +Whither gaunt Labor slips to wipe his brow +And meditate a moment on Heaven's rest. +Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke +To each apart, lifting her lovely shows +To spiritual lessons pointed home, +And as through dreams in watches of the night, +So through all creatures in their form and ways +Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant, +Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense +Inviting to new knowledge, one with old. +Hark to that petulant chirp! what ails the warbler? +Mark his capricious ways to draw the eye. +Now soar again. What wilt thou, restless bird, +Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light, +Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky? + + And presently the sky is changed; O world! +What pictures and what harmonies are thine! +The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, +So like the soul of me, what if 't were me? +A melancholy better than all mirth. +Comes the sweet sadness at the retrospect, +Or at the foresight of obscurer years? +Like yon slow-sailing cloudy promontory +Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty +Superior to all its gaudy skirts. +And, that no day of life may lack romance, +The spiritual stars rise nightly, shedding down +A private beam into each several heart. +Daily the bending skies solicit man, +The seasons chariot him from this exile, +The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing chair, +The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, +Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights +Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home. + + With a vermilion pencil mark the day +When of our little fleet three cruising skiffs +Entering Big Tupper, bound for the foaming Falls +Of loud Bog River, suddenly confront +Two of our mates returning with swift oars. +One held a printed journal waving high +Caught from a late-arriving traveller, +Big with great news, and shouted the report +For which the world had waited, now firm fact, +Of the wire-cable laid beneath the sea, +And landed on our coast, and pulsating +With ductile fire. Loud, exulting cries +From boat to boat, and to the echoes round, +Greet the glad miracle. Thought's new-found path +Shall supplement henceforth all trodden ways, +Match God's equator with a zone of art, +And lift man's public action to a height +Worthy the enormous cloud of witnesses, +When linkèd hemispheres attest his deed. +We have few moments in the longest life +Of such delight and wonder as there grew,-- +Nor yet unsuited to that solitude: +A burst of joy, as if we told the fact +To ears intelligent; as if gray rock +And cedar grove and cliff and lake should know +This feat of wit, this triumph of mankind; +As if we men were talking in a vein +Of sympathy so large, that ours was theirs, +And a prime end of the most subtle element +Were fairly reached at last. Wake, echoing caves! +Bend nearer, faint day-moon! Yon thundertops, +Let them hear well! 'tis theirs as much as ours. + + A spasm throbbing through the pedestals +Of Alp and Andes, isle and continent, +Urging astonished Chaos with a thrill +To be a brain, or serve the brain of man. +The lightning has run masterless too long; +He must to school and learn his verb and noun +And teach his nimbleness to earn his wage, +Spelling with guided tongue man's messages +Shot through the weltering pit of the salt sea. +And yet I marked, even in the manly joy +Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat +(Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent; +Or was it for mankind a generous shame, +As of a luck not quite legitimate, +Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? +Was it a college pique of town and gown, +As one within whose memory it burned +That not academicians, but some lout, +Found ten years since the Californian gold? +And now, again, a hungry company +Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, +Perversely borrowing from the shop the tools +Of science, not from the philosophers, +Had won the brightest laurel of all time. +'Twas always thus, and will be; hand and head +Are ever rivals: but, though this be swift, +The other slow,--this the Prometheus, +And that the Jove,--yet, howsoever hid, +It was from Jove the other stole his fire, +And, without Jove, the good had never been. +It is not Iroquois or cannibals, +But ever the free race with front sublime, +And these instructed by their wisest too, +Who do the feat, and lift humanity. +Let not him mourn who best entitled was, +Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, +Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, +And water it with wine, nor watch askance +Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: +Enough that mankind eat and are refreshed. + + We flee away from cities, but we bring +The best of cities with us, these learned classifiers, +Men knowing what they seek, armed eyes of experts. +We praise the guide, we praise the forest life: +But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore +Of books and arts and trained experiment, +Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? +O no, not we! Witness the shout that shook +Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail +The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge +Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears +From a log cabin stream Beethoven's notes +On the piano, played with master's hand. +'Well done!' he cries; 'the bear is kept at bay, +The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; +All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, +This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, +This wild plantation will suffice to chase. +Now speed the gay celerities of art, +What in the desert was impossible +Within four walls is possible again,-- +Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill, +Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife +Of keen competing youths, joined or alone +To outdo each other and extort applause. +Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. +Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again, +On for a thousand years of genius more.' + + The holidays were fruitful, but must end; +One August evening had a cooler breath; +Into each mind intruding duties crept; +Under the cinders burned the fires of home; +Nay, letters found us in our paradise: +So in the gladness of the new event +We struck our camp and left the happy hills. +The fortunate star that rose on us sank not; +The prodigal sunshine rested on the land, +The rivers gambolled onward to the sea, +And Nature, the inscrutable and mute, +Permitted on her infinite repose +Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, +As if one riddle of the Sphinx were guessed. + + + +BRAHMA + +If the red slayer think he slays, + Or if the slain think he is slain, +They know not well the subtle ways + I keep, and pass, and turn again. + +Far or forgot to me is near; + Shadow and sunlight are the same; +The vanished gods to me appear; + And one to me are shame and fame. + +They reckon ill who leave me out; + When me they fly, I am the wings; +I am the doubter and the doubt, + And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. + +The strong gods pine for my abode, + And pine in vain the sacred Seven; +But thou, meek lover of the good! + Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. + + + +NEMESIS + +Already blushes on thy cheek +The bosom thought which thou must speak; +The bird, how far it haply roam +By cloud or isle, is flying home; +The maiden fears, and fearing runs +Into the charmed snare she shuns; +And every man, in love or pride, +Of his fate is never wide. + +Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth? +Or prayers the stony Parcae soothe, +Or coax the thunder from its mark? +Or tapers light the chaos dark? +In spite of Virtue and the Muse, +Nemesis will have her dues, +And all our struggles and our toils +Tighter wind the giant coils. + + + +FATE + +Deep in the man sits fast his fate +To mould his fortunes, mean or great: +Unknown to Cromwell as to me +Was Cromwell's measure or degree; +Unknown to him as to his horse, +If he than his groom be better or worse. +He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, +With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, +Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, +Broad England harbored not his peer: +Obeying time, the last to own +The Genius from its cloudy throne. +For the prevision is allied +Unto the thing so signified; +Or say, the foresight that awaits +Is the same Genius that creates. + + + +FREEDOM + +Once I wished I might rehearse +Freedom's paean in my verse, +That the slave who caught the strain +Should throb until he snapped his chain, +But the Spirit said, 'Not so; +Speak it not, or speak it low; +Name not lightly to be said, +Gift too precious to be prayed, +Passion not to be expressed +But by heaving of the breast: +Yet,--wouldst thou the mountain find +Where this deity is shrined, +Who gives to seas and sunset skies +Their unspent beauty of surprise, +And, when it lists him, waken can +Brute or savage into man; +Or, if in thy heart he shine, +Blends the starry fates with thine, +Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, +And makes thy thoughts archangels be; +Freedom's secret wilt thou know?-- +Counsel not with flesh and blood; +Loiter not for cloak or food; +Right thou feelest, rush to do.' + + + +ODE + +SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 + +O tenderly the haughty day + Fills his blue urn with fire; +One morn is in the mighty heaven, + And one in our desire. + +The cannon booms from town to town, + Our pulses beat not less, +The joy-bells chime their tidings down, + Which children's voices bless. + +For He that flung the broad blue fold + O'er-mantling land and sea, +One third part of the sky unrolled + For the banner of the free. + +The men are ripe of Saxon kind + To build an equal state,-- +To take the statute from the mind + And make of duty fate. + +United States! the ages plead,-- + Present and Past in under-song,-- +Go put your creed into your deed, + Nor speak with double tongue. + +For sea and land don't understand, + Nor skies without a frown +See rights for which the one hand fights + By the other cloven down. + +Be just at home; then write your scroll + Of honor o'er the sea, +And bid the broad Atlantic roll, + A ferry of the free. + +And henceforth there shall be no chain, + Save underneath the sea +The wires shall murmur through the main + Sweet songs of liberty. + +The conscious stars accord above, + The waters wild below, +And under, through the cable wove, + Her fiery errands go. + +For He that worketh high and wise. + Nor pauses in his plan, +Will take the sun out of the skies + Ere freedom out of man. + + + +BOSTON HYMN + +READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863 + +The word of the Lord by night +To the watching Pilgrims came, +As they sat by the seaside, +And filled their hearts with flame. + +God said, I am tired of kings, +I suffer them no more; +Up to my ear the morning brings +The outrage of the poor. + +Think ye I made this ball +A field of havoc and war, +Where tyrants great and tyrants small +Might harry the weak and poor? + +My angel,--his name is Freedom,-- +Choose him to be your king; +He shall cut pathways east and west +And fend you with his wing. + +Lo! I uncover the land +Which I hid of old time in the West, +As the sculptor uncovers the statue +When he has wrought his best; + +I show Columbia, of the rocks +Which dip their foot in the seas +And soar to the air-borne flocks +Of clouds and the boreal fleece. + +I will divide my goods; +Call in the wretch and slave: +None shall rule but the humble. +And none but Toil shall have. + +I will have never a noble, +No lineage counted great; +Fishers and choppers and ploughmen +Shall constitute a state. + +Go, cut down trees in the forest +And trim the straightest boughs; +Cut down trees in the forest +And build me a wooden house. + +Call the people together, +The young men and the sires, +The digger in the harvest-field, +Hireling and him that hires; + +And here in a pine state-house +They shall choose men to rule +In every needful faculty, +In church and state and school. + +Lo, now! if these poor men +Can govern the land and sea +And make just laws below the sun, +As planets faithful be. + +And ye shall succor men; +'Tis nobleness to serve; +Help them who cannot help again: +Beware from right to swerve. + +I break your bonds and masterships, +And I unchain the slave: +Free be his heart and hand henceforth +As wind and wandering wave. + +I cause from every creature +His proper good to flow: +As much as he is and doeth, +So much he shall bestow. + +But, laying hands on another +To coin his labor and sweat, +He goes in pawn to his victim +For eternal years in debt. + +To-day unbind the captive, +So only are ye unbound; +Lift up a people from the dust, +Trump of their rescue, sound! + +Pay ransom to the owner +And fill the bag to the brim. +Who is the owner? The slave is owner, +And ever was. Pay him. + +O North! give him beauty for rags, +And honor, O South! for his shame; +Nevada! coin thy golden crags +With Freedom's image and name. + +Up! and the dusky race +That sat in darkness long,-- +Be swift their feet as antelopes. +And as behemoth strong. + +Come, East and West and North, +By races, as snow-flakes, +And carry my purpose forth, +Which neither halts nor shakes. + +My will fulfilled shall be, +For, in daylight or in dark, +My thunderbolt has eyes to see +His way home to the mark. + + + +VOLUNTARIES + +I + +Low and mournful be the strain, +Haughty thought be far from me; +Tones of penitence and pain, +Meanings of the tropic sea; +Low and tender in the cell +Where a captive sits in chains. +Crooning ditties treasured well +From his Afric's torrid plains. +Sole estate his sire bequeathed,-- +Hapless sire to hapless son,-- +Was the wailing song he breathed, +And his chain when life was done. + + What his fault, or what his crime? +Or what ill planet crossed his prime? +Heart too soft and will too weak +To front the fate that crouches near,-- +Dove beneath the vulture's beak;-- +Will song dissuade the thirsty spear? +Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, +Displaced, disfurnished here, +His wistful toil to do his best +Chilled by a ribald jeer. +Great men in the Senate sate, +Sage and hero, side by side, +Building for their sons the State, +Which they shall rule with pride. +They forbore to break the chain +Which bound the dusky tribe, +Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, +Lured by 'Union' as the bribe. +Destiny sat by, and said, +'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, +Hide in false peace your coward head, +I bring round the harvest day.' + +II + +Freedom all winged expands, +Nor perches in a narrow place; +Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; +She loves a poor and virtuous race. +Clinging to a colder zone +Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, +The snowflake is her banner's star, +Her stripes the boreal streamers are. +Long she loved the Northman well; +Now the iron age is done, +She will not refuse to dwell +With the offspring of the Sun; +Foundling of the desert far, +Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, +He roves unhurt the burning ways +In climates of the summer star. +He has avenues to God +Hid from men of Northern brain, +Far beholding, without cloud, +What these with slowest steps attain. +If once the generous chief arrive +To lead him willing to be led, +For freedom he will strike and strive, +And drain his heart till he be dead. + +III + +In an age of fops and toys, +Wanting wisdom, void of right, +Who shall nerve heroic boys +To hazard all in Freedom's fight,-- +Break sharply off their jolly games, +Forsake their comrades gay +And quit proud homes and youthful dames +For famine, toil and fray? +Yet on the nimble air benign +Speed nimbler messages, +That waft the breath of grace divine +To hearts in sloth and ease. +So nigh is grandeur to our dust, +So near is God to man, +When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_, +The youth replies, _I can_. + +IV + +O, well for the fortunate soul +Which Music's wings infold, +Stealing away the memory +Of sorrows new and old! +Yet happier he whose inward sight, +Stayed on his subtile thought, +Shuts his sense on toys of time, +To vacant bosoms brought. +But best befriended of the God +He who, in evil times, +Warned by an inward voice, +Heeds not the darkness and the dread, +Biding by his rule and choice, +Feeling only the fiery thread +Leading over heroic ground, +Walled with mortal terror round, +To the aim which him allures, +And the sweet heaven his deed secures. +Peril around, all else appalling, +Cannon in front and leaden rain +Him duty through the clarion calling +To the van called not in vain. + + Stainless soldier on the walls, +Knowing this,--and knows no more,-- +Whoever fights, whoever falls, +Justice conquers evermore, +Justice after as before,-- +And he who battles on her side, +God, though he were ten times slain, +Crowns him victor glorified, +Victor over death and pain. + +V + +Blooms the laurel which belongs +To the valiant chief who fights; +I see the wreath, I hear the songs +Lauding the Eternal Rights, +Victors over daily wrongs: +Awful victors, they misguide +Whom they will destroy, +And their coming triumph hide +In our downfall, or our joy: +They reach no term, they never sleep, +In equal strength through space abide; +Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, +The strong they slay, the swift outstride: +Fate's grass grows rank in valley clods, +And rankly on the castled steep,-- +Speak it firmly, these are gods, +All are ghosts beside. + + + +LOVE AND THOUGHT + +Two well-assorted travellers use +The highway, Eros and the Muse. +From the twins is nothing hidden, +To the pair is nought forbidden; +Hand in hand the comrades go +Every nook of Nature through: +Each for other they were born, +Each can other best adorn; +They know one only mortal grief +Past all balsam or relief; +When, by false companions crossed, +The pilgrims have each other lost. + + + +UNA + +Roving, roving, as it seems, +Una lights my clouded dreams; +Still for journeys she is dressed; +We wander far by east and west. + +In the homestead, homely thought, +At my work I ramble not; +If from home chance draw me wide, +Half-seen Una sits beside. + +In my house and garden-plot, +Though beloved, I miss her not; +But one I seek in foreign places, +One face explore in foreign faces. + +At home a deeper thought may light +The inward sky with chrysolite, +And I greet from far the ray, +Aurora of a dearer day. + +But if upon the seas I sail, +Or trundle on the glowing rail, +I am but a thought of hers, +Loveliest of travellers. + +So the gentle poet's name +To foreign parts is blown by fame, +Seek him in his native town, +He is hidden and unknown. + + + +BOSTON + +SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS + +The rocky nook with hilltops three + Looked eastward from the farms, +And twice each day the flowing sea + Took Boston in its arms; +The men of yore were stout and poor, +And sailed for bread to every shore. + +And where they went on trade intent + They did what freemen can, +Their dauntless ways did all men praise, + The merchant was a man. +The world was made for honest trade,-- +To plant and eat be none afraid. + +The waves that rocked them on the deep + To them their secret told; +Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, + 'Like us be free and bold!' +The honest waves refused to slaves +The empire of the ocean caves. + +Old Europe groans with palaces, + Has lords enough and more;-- +We plant and build by foaming seas + A city of the poor;-- +For day by day could Boston Bay +Their honest labor overpay. + +We grant no dukedoms to the few, + We hold like rights, and shall;-- +Equal on Sunday in the pew, + On Monday in the mall, +For what avail the plough or sail, +Or land or life, if freedom fail? + +The noble craftsman we promote, + Disown the knave and fool; +Each honest man shall have his vote, + Each child shall have his school. +A union then of honest men, +Or union never more again. + +The wild rose and the barberry thorn + Hung out their summer pride, +Where now on heated pavements worn + The feet of millions stride. + +Fair rose the planted hills behind + The good town on the bay, +And where the western hills declined + The prairie stretched away. + +What care though rival cities soar + Along the stormy coast, +Penn's town, New York and Baltimore, + If Boston knew the most! + +They laughed to know the world so wide; + The mountains said, 'Good-day! +We greet you well, you Saxon men, + Up with your towns and stay!' +The world was made for honest trade,-- +To plant and eat be none afraid. + +'For you,' they said, 'no barriers be, + For you no sluggard rest; +Each street leads downward to the sea, + Or landward to the west.' + +O happy town beside the sea, + Whose roads lead everywhere to all; +Than thine no deeper moat can be, + No stouter fence, no steeper wall! + +Bad news from George on the English throne; + 'You are thriving well,' said he; +'Now by these presents be it known + You shall pay us a tax on tea; +'Tis very small,--no load at all,-- +Honor enough that we send the call. + +'Not so,' said Boston, 'good my lord, + We pay your governors here +Abundant for their bed and board, + Six thousand pounds a year. +(Your Highness knows our homely word) + Millions for self-government, + But for tribute never a cent.' + +The cargo came! and who could blame + If _Indians_ seized the tea, +And, chest by chest, let down the same, + Into the laughing sea? +For what avail the plough or sail, +Or land or life, if freedom fail? + +The townsmen braved the English king, + Found friendship in the French, +And honor joined the patriot ring + Low on their wooden bench. + +O bounteous seas that never fail! + O day remembered yet! +O happy port that spied the sail + Which wafted Lafayette! +Pole-star of light in Europe's night, +That never faltered from the right. + +Kings shook with fear, old empires crave + The secret force to find +Which fired the little State to save + The rights of all mankind. + +But right is might through all the world; + Province to province faithful clung, +Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled, + Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung. + +The sea returning day by day + Restores the world-wide mart; +So let each dweller on the Bay + Fold Boston in his heart, +Till these echoes be choked with snows, +Or over the town blue ocean flows. + +Let the blood of her hundred thousands + Throb in each manly vein; +And the wits of all her wisest, + Make sunshine in her brain. +For you can teach the lightning speech, +And round the globe your voices reach. + +And each shall care for other, + And each to each shall bend, +To the poor a noble brother, + To the good an equal friend. + +A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers! +GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours! + + + +LETTERS + +Every day brings a ship, +Every ship brings a word; +Well for those who have no fear. +Looking seaward, well assured +That the word the vessel brings +Is the word they wish to hear. + + + +RUBIES + +They brought me rubies from the mine, + And held them to the sun; +I said, they are drops of frozen wine + From Eden's vats that run. + +I looked again,--I thought them hearts + Of friends to friends unknown; +Tides that should warm each neighboring life + Are locked in sparkling stone. + +But fire to thaw that ruddy snow, + To break enchanted ice, +And give love's scarlet tides to flow,-- + When shall that sun arise? + + + +MERLIN'S SONG + +I + +Of Merlin wise I learned a song,-- +Sing it low or sing it loud, +It is mightier than the strong, +And punishes the proud. +I sing it to the surging crowd,-- +Good men it will calm and cheer, +Bad men it will chain and cage-- +In the heart of the music peals a strain +Which only angels hear; +Whether it waken joy or rage +Hushed myriads hark in vain, +Yet they who hear it shed their age, +And take their youth again. + +II + +Hear what British Merlin sung, +Of keenest eye and truest tongue. +Say not, the chiefs who first arrive +Usurp the seats for which all strive; +The forefathers this land who found +Failed to plant the vantage-ground; +Ever from one who comes to-morrow +Men wait their good and truth to borrow. +But wilt thou measure all thy road, +See thou lift the lightest load. +Who has little, to him who has less, can spare, +And thou, Cyndyllan's son! beware +Ponderous gold and stuffs to bear, +To falter ere thou thy task fulfil,-- +Only the light-armed climb the hill. +The richest of all lords is Use, +And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse. +Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, +Drink the wild air's salubrity: +When the star Canope shines in May, +Shepherds are thankful and nations gay. +The music that can deepest reach, +And cure all ill, is cordial speech: +Mask thy wisdom with delight, +Toy with the bow, yet hit the white. +Of all wit's uses, the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +THE TEST + +(Musa loquitur.) + +I hung my verses in the wind, +Time and tide their faults may find. +All were winnowed through and through, +Five lines lasted sound and true; +Five were smelted in a pot +Than the South more fierce and hot; +These the siroc could not melt, +Fire their fiercer flaming felt, +And the meaning was more white +Than July's meridian light. +Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, +Nor time unmake what poets know. +Have you eyes to find the five +Which five hundred did survive? + + + +SOLUTION + +I am the Muse who sung alway +By Jove, at dawn of the first day. +Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wrought +To fire the stagnant earth with thought: +On spawning slime my song prevails, +Wolves shed their fangs, and dragons scales; +Flushed in the sky the sweet May-morn, +Earth smiled with flowers, and man was born. +Then Asia yeaned her shepherd race, +And Nile substructs her granite base,-- +Tented Tartary, columned Nile,-- +And, under vines, on rocky isle, +Or on wind-blown sea-marge bleak, +Forward stepped the perfect Greek: +That wit and joy might find a tongue, +And earth grow civil, HOMER sung. + + Flown to Italy from Greece, +I brooded long and held my peace, +For I am wont to sing uncalled, +And in days of evil plight +Unlock doors of new delight; +And sometimes mankind I appalled +With a bitter horoscope, +With spasms of terror for balm of hope. +Then by better thought I lead +Bards to speak what nations need; +So I folded me in fears, +And DANTE searched the triple spheres, +Moulding Nature at his will, +So shaped, so colored, swift or still, +And, sculptor-like, his large design +Etched on Alp and Apennine. + + Seethed in mists of Penmanmaur, +Taught by Plinlimmon's Druid power, +England's genius filled all measure +Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, +Gave to the mind its emperor, +And life was larger than before: +Nor sequent centuries could hit +Orbit and sum of SHAKSPEARE'S wit. +The men who lived with him became +Poets, for the air was fame. + + Far in the North, where polar night +Holds in check the frolic light, +In trance upborne past mortal goal +The Swede EMANUEL leads the soul. +Through snows above, mines underground, +The inks of Erebus he found; +Rehearsed to men the damned wails +On which the seraph music sails. +In spirit-worlds he trod alone, +But walked the earth unmarked, unknown, +The near bystander caught no sound,-- +Yet they who listened far aloof +Heard rendings of the skyey roof, +And felt, beneath, the quaking ground; +And his air-sown, unheeded words, +In the next age, are flaming swords. + + In newer days of war and trade, +Romance forgot, and faith decayed, +When Science armed and guided war, +And clerks the Janus-gates unbar, +When France, where poet never grew, +Halved and dealt the globe anew, +GOETHE, raised o'er joy and strife, +Drew the firm lines of Fate and Life +And brought Olympian wisdom down +To court and mart, to gown and town. +Stooping, his finger wrote in clay +The open secret of to-day. + + So bloom the unfading petals five, +And verses that all verse outlive. + + + +HYMN + +SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION +OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS + +We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;-- +In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod. + +Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, +And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place. + +And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, +And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife. + +From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, +And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again; + +For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, +Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below. + +They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, +And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way. + +On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, +Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all. + + + +NATURE I + +Winters know +Easily to shed the snow, +And the untaught Spring is wise +In cowslips and anemonies. +Nature, hating art and pains, +Baulks and baffles plotting brains; +Casualty and Surprise +Are the apples of her eyes; +But she dearly loves the poor, +And, by marvel of her own, +Strikes the loud pretender down. +For Nature listens in the rose +And hearkens in the berry's bell +To help her friends, to plague her foes, +And like wise God she judges well. +Yet doth much her love excel +To the souls that never fell, +To swains that live in happiness +And do well because they please, +Who walk in ways that are unfamed, +And feats achieve before they're named. + + + +NATURE II + +She is gamesome and good, +But of mutable mood,-- +No dreary repeater now and again, +She will be all things to all men. +She who is old, but nowise feeble, +Pours her power into the people, +Merry and manifold without bar, +Makes and moulds them what they are, +And what they call their city way +Is not their way, but hers, +And what they say they made to-day, +They learned of the oaks and firs. +She spawneth men as mallows fresh, +Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; +She drugs her water and her wheat +With the flavors she finds meet, +And gives them what to drink and eat; +And having thus their bread and growth, +They do her bidding, nothing loath. +What's most theirs is not their own, +But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, +And in their vaunted works of Art +The master-stroke is still her part. + + + +THE ROMANY GIRL + +The sun goes down, and with him takes +The coarseness of my poor attire; +The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame +Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. + +Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; +You captives of your air-tight halls, +Wear out indoors your sickly days, +But leave us the horizon walls. + +And if I take you, dames, to task, +And say it frankly without guile, +Then you are Gypsies in a mask, +And I the lady all the while. + +If on the heath, below the moon, +I court and play with paler blood, +Me false to mine dare whisper none,-- +One sallow horseman knows me good. + +Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, +For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; +My swarthy tint is in the grain, +The rocks and forest know it real. + +The wild air bloweth in our lungs, +The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, +The birds gave us our wily tongues, +The panther in our dances flies. + +You doubt we read the stars on high, +Nathless we read your fortunes true; +The stars may hide in the upper sky, +But without glass we fathom you. + + + +DAYS + +Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, +Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, +And marching single in an endless file, +Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. +To each they offer gifts after his will, +Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. +I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, +Forgot my morning wishes, hastily +Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day +Turned and departed silent. I, too late, +Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn. + + + +MY GARDEN + +If I could put my woods in song +And tell what's there enjoyed, +All men would to my gardens throng, +And leave the cities void. + +In my plot no tulips blow,-- +Snow-loving pines and oaks instead; +And rank the savage maples grow +From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red. + +My garden is a forest ledge +Which older forests bound; +The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, +Then plunge to depths profound. + +Here once the Deluge ploughed, +Laid the terraces, one by one; +Ebbing later whence it flowed, +They bleach and dry in the sun. + +The sowers made haste to depart,-- +The wind and the birds which sowed it; +Not for fame, nor by rules of art, +Planted these, and tempests flowed it. + +Waters that wash my garden-side +Play not in Nature's lawful web, +They heed not moon or solar tide,-- +Five years elapse from flood to ebb. + +Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, +And every god,--none did refuse; +And be sure at last came Love, +And after Love, the Muse. + +Keen ears can catch a syllable, +As if one spake to another, +In the hemlocks tall, untamable, +And what the whispering grasses smother. + +Aeolian harps in the pine +Ring with the song of the Fates; +Infant Bacchus in the vine,-- +Far distant yet his chorus waits. + +Canst thou copy in verse one chime +Of the wood-bell's peal and cry, +Write in a book the morning's prime, +Or match with words that tender sky? + +Wonderful verse of the gods, +Of one import, of varied tone; +They chant the bliss of their abodes +To man imprisoned in his own. + +Ever the words of the gods resound; +But the porches of man's ear +Seldom in this low life's round +Are unsealed that he may hear. + +Wandering voices in the air +And murmurs in the wold +Speak what I cannot declare, +Yet cannot all withhold. + +When the shadow fell on the lake, +The whirlwind in ripples wrote +Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, +And omens above thought. + +But the meanings cleave to the lake, +Cannot be carried in book or urn; +Go thy ways now, come later back, +On waves and hedges still they burn. + +These the fates of men forecast, +Of better men than live to-day; +If who can read them comes at last +He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay.' + + + +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + +Day! hast thou two faces, +Making one place two places? +One, by humble farmer seen, +Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, +Useful only, triste and damp, +Serving for a laborer's lamp? +Have the same mists another side, +To be the appanage of pride, +Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, +His park where amber mornings break, +And treacherously bright to show +His planted isle where roses glow? +O Day! and is your mightiness +A sycophant to smug success? +Will the sweet sky and ocean broad +Be fine accomplices to fraud? +O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray: +Back, back to chaos, harlot Day! + + + +THE TITMOUSE + +You shall not be overbold +When you deal with arctic cold, +As late I found my lukewarm blood +Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. +How should I fight? my foeman fine +Has million arms to one of mine: +East, west, for aid I looked in vain, +East, west, north, south, are his domain. +Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; +Must borrow his winds who there would come. +Up and away for life! be fleet!-- +The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, +Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, +Curdles the blood to the marble bones, +Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, +And hems in life with narrowing fence. +Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,-- +The punctual stars will vigil keep,-- +Embalmed by purifying cold; +The winds shall sing their dead-march old, +The snow is no ignoble shroud, +The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. + + Softly,--but this way fate was pointing, +'T was coming fast to such anointing, +When piped a tiny voice hard by, +Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, +_Chic-chic-a-dee-de!_ saucy note +Out of sound heart and merry throat, +As if it said, 'Good day, good sir! +Fine afternoon, old passenger! +Happy to meet you in these places, +Where January brings few faces.' + + This poet, though he live apart, +Moved by his hospitable heart, +Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, +To do the honors of his court, +As fits a feathered lord of land; +Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, +Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, +Prints his small impress on the snow, +Shows feats of his gymnastic play, +Head downward, clinging to the spray. + + Here was this atom in full breath, +Hurling defiance at vast death; +This scrap of valor just for play +Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, +As if to shame my weak behavior; +I greeted loud my little savior, +'You pet! what dost here? and what for? +In these woods, thy small Labrador, +At this pinch, wee San Salvador! +What fire burns in that little chest +So frolic, stout and self-possest? +Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine; +Ashes and jet all hues outshine. +Why are not diamonds black and gray, +To ape thy dare-devil array? +And I affirm, the spacious North +Exists to draw thy virtue forth. +I think no virtue goes with size; +The reason of all cowardice +Is, that men are overgrown, +And, to be valiant, must come down +To the titmouse dimension.' + + 'T is good will makes intelligence, +And I began to catch the sense +Of my bird's song: 'Live out of doors +In the great woods, on prairie floors. +I dine in the sun; when he sinks in the sea, +I too have a hole in a hollow tree; +And I like less when Summer beats +With stifling beams on these retreats, +Than noontide twilights which snow makes +With tempest of the blinding flakes. +For well the soul, if stout within, +Can arm impregnably the skin; +And polar frost my frame defied, +Made of the air that blows outside.' + + With glad remembrance of my debt, +I homeward turn; farewell, my pet! +When here again thy pilgrim comes, +He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. +Doubt not, so long as earth has bread, +Thou first and foremost shalt be fed; +The Providence that is most large +Takes hearts like thine in special charge, +Helps who for their own need are strong, +And the sky doats on cheerful song. +Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant +O'er all that mass and minster vaunt; +For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, +As 't would accost some frivolous wing, +Crying out of the hazel copse, _Phe-be!_ +And, in winter, _Chic-a-dee-dee!_ +I think old Caesar must have heard +In northern Gaul my dauntless bird, +And, echoed in some frosty wold, +Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. +And I will write our annals new, +And thank thee for a better clew, +I, who dreamed not when I came here +To find the antidote of fear, +Now hear thee say in Roman key, +_Paean! Veni, vidi, vici._ + + + +THE HARP + +One musician is sure, +His wisdom will not fail, +He has not tasted wine impure, +Nor bent to passion frail. +Age cannot cloud his memory, +Nor grief untune his voice, +Ranging down the ruled scale +From tone of joy to inward wail, +Tempering the pitch of all +In his windy cave. +He all the fables knows, +And in their causes tells,-- +Knows Nature's rarest moods, +Ever on her secret broods. +The Muse of men is coy, +Oft courted will not come; +In palaces and market squares +Entreated, she is dumb; +But my minstrel knows and tells +The counsel of the gods, +Knows of Holy Book the spells, +Knows the law of Night and Day, +And the heart of girl and boy, +The tragic and the gay, +And what is writ on Table Round +Of Arthur and his peers; +What sea and land discoursing say +In sidereal years. +He renders all his lore +In numbers wild as dreams, +Modulating all extremes,-- +What the spangled meadow saith +To the children who have faith; +Only to children children sing, +Only to youth will spring be spring. + + Who is the Bard thus magnified? +When did he sing? and where abide? + + Chief of song where poets feast +Is the wind-harp which thou seest +In the casement at my side. + + Aeolian harp, +How strangely wise thy strain! +Gay for youth, gay for youth, +(Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,) +In the hall at summer eve +Fate and Beauty skilled to weave. +From the eager opening strings +Rung loud and bold the song. +Who but loved the wind-harp's note? +How should not the poet doat +On its mystic tongue, +With its primeval memory, +Reporting what old minstrels told +Of Merlin locked the harp within,-- +Merlin paying the pain of sin, +Pent in a dungeon made of air,-- +And some attain his voice to hear, +Words of pain and cries of fear, +But pillowed all on melody, +As fits the griefs of bards to be. +And what if that all-echoing shell, +Which thus the buried Past can tell, +Should rive the Future, and reveal +What his dread folds would fain conceal? +It shares the secret of the earth, +And of the kinds that owe her birth. +Speaks not of self that mystic tone, +But of the Overgods alone: +It trembles to the cosmic breath,-- +As it heareth, so it saith; +Obeying meek the primal Cause, +It is the tongue of mundane laws. +And this, at least, I dare affirm, +Since genius too has bound and term, +There is no bard in all the choir, +Not Homer's self, the poet sire, +Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, +Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure, +Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, +Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, +Scott, the delight of generous boys, +Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,-- +Not one of all can put in verse, +Or to this presence could rehearse +The sights and voices ravishing +The boy knew on the hills in spring, +When pacing through the oaks he heard +Sharp queries of the sentry-bird, +The heavy grouse's sudden whir, +The rattle of the kingfisher; +Saw bonfires of the harlot flies +In the lowland, when day dies; +Or marked, benighted and forlorn, +The first far signal-fire of morn. +These syllables that Nature spoke, +And the thoughts that in him woke, +Can adequately utter none +Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. +Therein I hear the Parcae reel +The threads of man at their humming wheel, +The threads of life and power and pain, +So sweet and mournful falls the strain. +And best can teach its Delphian chord +How Nature to the soul is moored, +If once again that silent string, +As erst it wont, would thrill and ring. + + Not long ago at eventide, +It seemed, so listening, at my side +A window rose, and, to say sooth, +I looked forth on the fields of youth: +I saw fair boys bestriding steeds, +I knew their forms in fancy weeds, +Long, long concealed by sundering fates, +Mates of my youth,--yet not my mates, +Stronger and bolder far than I, +With grace, with genius, well attired, +And then as now from far admired, +Followed with love +They knew not of, +With passion cold and shy. +O joy, for what recoveries rare! +Renewed, I breathe Elysian air, +See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,-- +Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb! +Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil +Of life resurgent from the soil +Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil. + + + +SEASHORE + +I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea +Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? +Am I not always here, thy summer home? +Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? +My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, +My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? +Was ever building like my terraces? +Was ever couch magnificent as mine? +Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn +A little hut suffices like a town. +I make your sculptured architecture vain, +Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, +And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. +Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, +Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs +Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab +Older than all thy race. + + Behold the Sea, +The opaline, the plentiful and strong, +Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, +Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; +Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, +Purger of earth, and medicine of men; +Creating a sweet climate by my breath, +Washing out harms and griefs from memory, +And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, +Giving a hint of that which changes not. +Rich are the sea-gods:--who gives gifts but they? +They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: +They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. +For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, +Wealth to the cunning artist who can work +This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! +A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? + + I with my hammer pounding evermore +The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, +Strewing my bed, and, in another age, +Rebuild a continent of better men. +Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out +The exodus of nations: I disperse +Men to all shores that front the hoary main. + + I too have arts and sorceries; +Illusion dwells forever with the wave. +I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal +With credulous and imaginative man; +For, though he scoop my water in his palm, +A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. +Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, +I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, +To distant men, who must go there, or die. + + + +SONG OF NATURE + +Mine are the night and morning, +The pits of air, the gulf of space, +The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, +The innumerable days. + +I hide in the solar glory, +I am dumb in the pealing song, +I rest on the pitch of the torrent, +In slumber I am strong. + +No numbers have counted my tallies, +No tribes my house can fill, +I sit by the shining Fount of Life +And pour the deluge still; + +And ever by delicate powers +Gathering along the centuries +From race on race the rarest flowers, +My wreath shall nothing miss. + +And many a thousand summers +My gardens ripened well, +And light from meliorating stars +With firmer glory fell. + +I wrote the past in characters +Of rock and fire the scroll, +The building in the coral sea, +The planting of the coal. + +And thefts from satellites and rings +And broken stars I drew, +And out of spent and aged things +I formed the world anew; + +What time the gods kept carnival, +Tricked out in star and flower, +And in cramp elf and saurian forms +They swathed their too much power. + +Time and Thought were my surveyors, +They laid their courses well, +They boiled the sea, and piled the layers +Of granite, marl and shell. + +But he, the man-child glorious,-- +Where tarries he the while? +The rainbow shines his harbinger, +The sunset gleams his smile. + +My boreal lights leap upward, +Forthright my planets roll, +And still the man-child is not born, +The summit of the whole. + +Must time and tide forever run? +Will never my winds go sleep in the west? +Will never my wheels which whirl the sun +And satellites have rest? + +Too much of donning and doffing, +Too slow the rainbow fades, +I weary of my robe of snow, +My leaves and my cascades; + +I tire of globes and races, +Too long the game is played; +What without him is summer's pomp, +Or winter's frozen shade? + +I travail in pain for him, +My creatures travail and wait; +His couriers come by squadrons, +He comes not to the gate. + +Twice I have moulded an image, +And thrice outstretched my hand, +Made one of day and one of night +And one of the salt sea-sand. + +One in a Judaean manger, +And one by Avon stream, +One over against the mouths of Nile, +And one in the Academe. + +I moulded kings and saviors, +And bards o'er kings to rule;-- +But fell the starry influence short, +The cup was never full. + +Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more, +And mix the bowl again; +Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements, +Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain. + +Let war and trade and creeds and song +Blend, ripen race on race, +The sunburnt world a man shall breed +Of all the zones and countless days. + +No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, +My oldest force is good as new, +And the fresh rose on yonder thorn +Gives back the bending heavens in dew. + + + +TWO RIVERS + +Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, +Repeats the music of the rain; +But sweeter rivers pulsing flit +Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. + +Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: +The stream I love unbounded goes +Through flood and sea and firmament; +Through light, through life, it forward flows. + +I see the inundation sweet, +I hear the spending of the stream +Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, +Through love and thought, through power and dream. + +Musketaquit, a goblin strong, +Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; +They lose their grief who hear his song, +And where he winds is the day of day. + +So forth and brighter fares my stream,-- +Who drink it shall not thirst again; +No darkness stains its equal gleam. +And ages drop in it like rain. + + + +WALDEINSAMKEIT + +I do not count the hours I spend +In wandering by the sea; +The forest is my loyal friend, +Like God it useth me. + +In plains that room for shadows make +Of skirting hills to lie, +Bound in by streams which give and take +Their colors from the sky; + +Or on the mountain-crest sublime, +Or down the oaken glade, +O what have I to do with time? +For this the day was made. + +Cities of mortals woe-begone +Fantastic care derides, +But in the serious landscape lone +Stern benefit abides. + +Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, +And merry is only a mask of sad, +But, sober on a fund of joy, +The woods at heart are glad. + +There the great Planter plants +Of fruitful worlds the grain, +And with a million spells enchants +The souls that walk in pain. + +Still on the seeds of all he made +The rose of beauty burns; +Through times that wear and forms that fade, +Immortal youth returns. + +The black ducks mounting from the lake, +The pigeon in the pines, +The bittern's boom, a desert make +Which no false art refines. + +Down in yon watery nook, +Where bearded mists divide, +The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, +The sires of Nature, hide. + +Aloft, in secret veins of air, +Blows the sweet breath of song, +O, few to scale those uplands dare, +Though they to all belong! + +See thou bring not to field or stone +The fancies found in books; +Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, +To brave the landscape's looks. + +Oblivion here thy wisdom is, +Thy thrift, the sleep of cares; +For a proud idleness like this +Crowns all thy mean affairs. + + + +TERMINUS + +It is time to be old, +To take in sail:-- +The god of bounds, +Who sets to seas a shore, +Came to me in his fatal rounds, +And said: 'No more! +No farther shoot +Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. +Fancy departs: no more invent; +Contract thy firmament +To compass of a tent. +There's not enough for this and that, +Make thy option which of two; +Economize the failing river, +Not the less revere the Giver, +Leave the many and hold the few. +Timely wise accept the terms, +Soften the fall with wary foot; +A little while +Still plan and smile, +And,--fault of novel germs,-- +Mature the unfallen fruit. +Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, +Bad husbands of their fires, +Who, when they gave thee breath, +Failed to bequeath +The needful sinew stark as once, +The Baresark marrow to thy bones, +But left a legacy of ebbing veins, +Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,-- +Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, +Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' + + As the bird trims her to the gale, +I trim myself to the storm of time, +I man the rudder, reef the sail, +Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: +'Lowly faithful, banish fear, +Right onward drive unharmed; +The port, well worth the cruise, is near, +And every wave is charmed.' + + + +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + +The yesterday doth never smile, +The day goes drudging through the while, +Yet, in the name of Godhead, I +The morrow front, and can defy; +Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, +Cannot withhold his conquering aid. +Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, +If He should make my web a blot +On life's fair picture of delight, +My heart's content would find it right. +But O, these waves and leaves,-- +When happy stoic Nature grieves, +No human speech so beautiful +As their murmurs mine to lull. +On this altar God hath built +I lay my vanity and guilt; +Nor me can Hope or Passion urge +Hearing as now the lofty dirge +Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, +Nature's funeral high and dim,-- +Sable pageantry of clouds, +Mourning summer laid in shrouds. +Many a day shall dawn and die, +Many an angel wander by, +And passing, light my sunken turf +Moist perhaps by ocean surf, +Forgotten amid splendid tombs, +Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. +On earth I dream;--I die to be: +Time, shake not thy bald head at me. +I challenge thee to hurry past +Or for my turn to fly too fast. +Think me not numbed or halt with age, +Or cares that earth to earth engage, +Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, +Or mired by climate's gross extremes. +I tire of shams, I rush to be: +I pass with yonder comet free,-- +Pass with the comet into space +Which mocks thy aeons to embrace; +Aeons which tardily unfold +Realm beyond realm,--extent untold; +No early morn, no evening late,-- +Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, +Whose shining sons, too great for fame, +Never heard thy weary name; +Nor lives the tragic bard to say +How drear the part I held in one, +How lame the other limped away. + + + +APRIL + +The April winds are magical +And thrill our tuneful frames; +The garden walks are passional +To bachelors and dames. +The hedge is gemmed with diamonds, +The air with Cupids full, +The cobweb clues of Rosamond +Guide lovers to the pool. +Each dimple in the water, +Each leaf that shades the rock +Can cozen, pique and flatter, +Can parley and provoke. +Goodfellow, Puck and goblins, +Know more than any book. +Down with your doleful problems, +And court the sunny brook. +The south-winds are quick-witted, +The schools are sad and slow, +The masters quite omitted +The lore we care to know. + + + +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + +Soft and softlier hold me, friends! +Thanks if your genial care +Unbind and give me to the air. +Keep your lips or finger-tips +For flute or spinet's dancing chips; +I await a tenderer touch, +I ask more or not so much: +Give me to the atmosphere,-- +Where is the wind, my brother,--where? +Lift the sash, lay me within, +Lend me your ears, and I begin. +For gentle harp to gentle hearts +The secret of the world imparts; +And not to-day and not to-morrow +Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; +But day by day, to loving ear +Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. +I've come to live with you, sweet friends, +This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. +Many and subtle are my lays, +The latest better than the first, +For I can mend the happiest days +And charm the anguish of the worst. + + + +CUPIDO + +The solid, solid universe +Is pervious to Love; +With bandaged eyes he never errs, +Around, below, above. +His blinding light +He flingeth white +On God's and Satan's brood, +And reconciles +By mystic wiles +The evil and the good. + + + +THE PAST + +The debt is paid, +The verdict said, +The Furies laid, +The plague is stayed. +All fortunes made; +Turn the key and bolt the door, +Sweet is death forevermore. +Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, +Nor murdering hate, can enter in. +All is now secure and fast; +Not the gods can shake the Past; +Flies-to the adamantine door +Bolted down forevermore. +None can reënter there,-- +No thief so politic, +No Satan with a royal trick +Steal in by window, chink, or hole, +To bind or unbind, add what lacked, +Insert a leaf, or forge a name, +New-face or finish what is packed, +Alter or mend eternal Fact. + + + +THE LAST FAREWELL + +LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, +EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT +OF BOSTON HARBOR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF +PORTO RICO, IN 1832 + +Farewell, ye lofty spires +That cheered the holy light! +Farewell, domestic fires +That broke the gloom of night! +Too soon those spires are lost, +Too fast we leave the bay, +Too soon by ocean tost +From hearth and home away, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell the busy town, +The wealthy and the wise, +Kind smile and honest frown +From bright, familiar eyes. +All these are fading now; +Our brig hastes on her way, +Her unremembering prow +Is leaping o'er the sea, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, my mother fond, +Too kind, too good to me; +Nor pearl nor diamond +Would pay my debt to thee. +But even thy kiss denies +Upon my cheek to stay; +The winged vessel flies, +And billows round her play, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, my brothers true, +My betters, yet my peers; +How desert without you +My few and evil years! +But though aye one in heart, +Together sad or gay, +Rude ocean doth us part; +We separate to-day, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, thou fairest one, +Unplighted yet to me, +Uncertain of thine own +I gave my heart to thee. +That untold early love +I leave untold to-day, +My lips in whisper move +Farewell to ...! + Far away, far away. + +Farewell I breathe again +To dim New England's shore, +My heart shall beat not when +I pant for thee no more. +In yon green palmy isle, +Beneath the tropic ray, +I murmur never while +For thee and thine I pray; + Far away, far away. + + + +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + +I mourn upon this battle-field, +But not for those who perished here. +Behold the river-bank +Whither the angry farmers came, +In sloven dress and broken rank, +Nor thought of fame. +Their deed of blood +All mankind praise; +Even the serene Reason says, +It was well done. +The wise and simple have one glance +To greet yon stern head-stone, +Which more of pride than pity gave +To mark the Briton's friendless grave. +Yet it is a stately tomb; +The grand return +Of eve and morn, +The year's fresh bloom, +The silver cloud, +Might grace the dust that is most proud. + + Yet not of these I muse +In this ancestral place, +But of a kindred face +That never joy or hope shall here diffuse. + + Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! +What hast thou to do with these +Haunting this bank's historic trees? +Thou born for noblest life, +For action's field, for victor's car, +Thou living champion of the right? +To these their penalty belonged: +I grudge not these their bed of death, +But thine to thee, who never wronged +The poorest that drew breath. + + All inborn power that could +Consist with homage to the good +Flamed from his martial eye; +He who seemed a soldier born, +He should have the helmet worn, +All friends to fend, all foes defy, +Fronting foes of God and man, +Frowning down the evil-doer, +Battling for the weak and poor. +His from youth the leader's look +Gave the law which others took, +And never poor beseeching glance +Shamed that sculptured countenance. + + There is no record left on earth, +Save in tablets of the heart, +Of the rich inherent worth, +Of the grace that on him shone, +Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit: +He could not frame a word unfit, +An act unworthy to be done; +Honor prompted every glance, +Honor came and sat beside him, +In lowly cot or painful road, +And evermore the cruel god +Cried "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed, +Born for success he seemed, +With grace to win, with heart to hold, +With shining gifts that took all eyes, +With budding power in college-halls, +As pledged in coming days to forge +Weapons to guard the State, or scourge +Tyrants despite their guards or walls. +On his young promise Beauty smiled, +Drew his free homage unbeguiled, +And prosperous Age held out his hand, +And richly his large future planned, +And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,-- +All, all was given, and only health denied. + + I see him with superior smile +Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train +In lands remote, in toil and pain, +With angel patience labor on, +With the high port he wore erewhile, +When, foremost of the youthful band, +The prizes in all lists he won; +Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, +And, least of all, the loyal tie +Which holds to home 'neath every sky, +The joy and pride the pilgrim feels +In hearts which round the hearth at home +Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam. + + What generous beliefs console +The brave whom Fate denies the goal! +If others reach it, is content; +To Heaven's high will his will is bent. +Firm on his heart relied, +What lot soe'er betide, +Work of his hand +He nor repents nor grieves, +Pleads for itself the fact, +As unrepenting Nature leaves +Her every act. + + Fell the bolt on the branching oak; +The rainbow of his hope was broke; +No craven cry, no secret tear,-- +He told no pang, he knew no fear; +Its peace sublime his aspect kept, +His purpose woke, his features slept; +And yet between the spasms of pain +His genius beamed with joy again. + + O'er thy rich dust the endless smile +Of Nature in thy Spanish isle +Hints never loss or cruel break +And sacrifice for love's dear sake, +Nor mourn the unalterable Days +That Genius goes and Folly stays. +What matters how, or from what ground, +The freed soul its Creator found? +Alike thy memory embalms +That orange-grove, that isle of palms, +And these loved banks, whose oak-bough bold +Root in the blood of heroes old. + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + + * * * * * + + + +EXPERIENCE + +The lords of life, the lords of life,-- +I saw them pass +In their own guise, +Like and unlike, +Portly and grim,-- +Use and Surprise, +Surface and Dream, +Succession swift and spectral Wrong, +Temperament without a tongue, +And the inventor of the game +Omnipresent without name;-- +Some to see, some to be guessed, +They marched from east to west: +Little man, least of all, +Among the legs of his guardians tall, +Walked about with puzzled look. +Him by the hand dear Nature took, +Dearest Nature, strong and kind, +Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! +To-morrow they will wear another face, +The founder thou; these are thy race!' + + + +COMPENSATION + +The wings of Time are black and white, +Pied with morning and with night. +Mountain tall and ocean deep +Trembling balance duly keep. +In changing moon and tidal wave +Glows the feud of Want and Have. +Gauge of more and less through space, +Electric star or pencil plays, +The lonely Earth amid the balls +That hurry through the eternal halls, +A makeweight flying to the void, +Supplemental asteroid, +Or compensatory spark, +Shoots across the neutral Dark. + +Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; +Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: +Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, +None from its stock that vine can reave. +Fear not, then, thou child infirm, +There's no god dare wrong a worm; +Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, +And power to him who power exerts. +Hast not thy share? On winged feet, +Lo it rushes thee to meet; +And all that Nature made thy own, +Floating in air or pent in stone, +Will rive the hills and swim the sea, +And, like thy shadow, follow thee. + + + +POLITICS + +Gold and iron are good +To buy iron and gold; +All earth's fleece and food +For their like are sold. +Boded Merlin wise, +Proved Napoleon great, +Nor kind nor coinage buys +Aught above its rate. +Fear, Craft and Avarice +Cannot rear a State. +Out of dust to build +What is more than dust, +Walls Amphion piled +Phoebus stablish must. +When the Muses nine +With the Virtues meet, +Find to their design +An Atlantic seat, +By green orchard boughs +Fended from the heat, +here the statesman ploughs +Furrow for the wheat,-- +When the Church is social worth, +When the state-house is the hearth, +Then the perfect State is come, +The republican at home. + + + +HEROISM + +Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, +Sugar spends to fatten slaves, +Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; +Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, +Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, +Lightning-knotted round his head; +The hero is not fed on sweets, +Daily his own heart he eats; +Chambers of the great are jails, +And head-winds right for royal sails. + + + +CHARACTER + +The sun set, but set not his hope: +Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: +Fixed on the enormous galaxy, +Deeper and older seemed his eye; +And matched his sufferance sublime +The taciturnity of time. +He spoke, and words more soft than rain +Brought the Age of Gold again: +His action won such reverence sweet +As hid all measure of the feat. + + + +CULTURE + +Can rules or tutors educate +The semigod whom we await? +He must be musical, +Tremulous, impressional, +Alive to gentle influence +Of landscape and of sky, +And tender to the spirit-touch +Of man's or maiden's eye: +But, to his native centre fast, +Shall into Future fuse the Past, +And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +A ruddy drop of manly blood +The surging sea outweighs, +The world uncertain comes and goes; +The lover rooted stays. +I fancied he was fled,-- +And, after many a year, +Glowed unexhausted kindliness, +Like daily sunrise there. +My careful heart was free again, +O friend, my bosom said, +Through thee alone the sky is arched, +Through thee the rose is red; +All things through thee take nobler form, +And look beyond the earth, +The mill-round of our fate appears +A sun-path in thy worth. +Me too thy nobleness has taught +To master my despair; +The fountains of my hidden life +Are through thy friendship fair. + + + +SPIRITUAL LAWS + +The living Heaven thy prayers respect, +House at once and architect, +Quarrying man's rejected hours, +Builds therewith eternal towers; +Sole and self-commanded works, +Fears not undermining days, +Grows by decays, +And, by the famous might that lurks +In reaction and recoil, +Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; +Forging, through swart arms of Offence, +The silver seat of Innocence. + + + +BEAUTY + +Was never form and never face +So sweet to SEYD as only grace +Which did not slumber like a stone, +But hovered gleaming and was gone. +Beauty chased he everywhere, +In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. +He smote the lake to feed his eye +With the beryl beam of the broken wave; +He flung in pebbles well to hear +The moment's music which they gave. +Oft pealed for him a lofty tone +From nodding pole and belting zone. +He heard a voice none else could hear +From centred and from errant sphere. +The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, +Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. +In dens of passion, and pits of woe, +He saw strong Eros struggling through, +To sun the dark and solve the curse, +And beam to the bounds of the universe. +While thus to love he gave his days +In loyal worship, scorning praise, +How spread their lures for him in vain +Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! +He thought it happier to be dead, +To die for Beauty, than live for bread. + + + +MANNERS + +Grace, Beauty and Caprice +Build this golden portal; +Graceful women, chosen men, +Dazzle every mortal. +Their sweet and lofty countenance +His enchanted food; +He need not go to them, their forms +Beset his solitude. +He looketh seldom in their face, +His eyes explore the ground,-- +The green grass is a looking-glass +Whereon their traits are found. +Little and less he says to them, +So dances his heart in his breast; +Their tranquil mien bereaveth him +Of wit, of words, of rest. +Too weak to win, too fond to shun +The tyrants of his doom, +The much deceived Endymion +Slips behind a tomb. + + + +ART + +Give to barrows, trays and pans +Grace and glimmer of romance; +Bring the moonlight into noon +Hid in gleaming piles of stone; +On the city's paved street +Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; +Let spouting fountains cool the air, +Singing in the sun-baked square; +Let statue, picture, park and hall, +Ballad, flag and festival, +The past restore, the day adorn, +And make to-morrow a new morn. +So shall the drudge in dusty frock +Spy behind the city clock +Retinues of airy kings, +Skirts of angels, starry wings, +His fathers shining in bright fables, +His children fed at heavenly tables. +'T is the privilege of Art +Thus to play its cheerful part, +Man on earth to acclimate +And bend the exile to his fate, +And, moulded of one element +With the days and firmament, +Teach him on these as stairs to climb, +And live on even terms with Time; +Whilst upper life the slender rill +Of human sense doth overfill. + + + +UNITY + +Space is ample, east and west, +But two cannot go abreast, +Cannot travel in it two: +Yonder masterful cuckoo +Crowds every egg out of the nest, +Quick or dead, except its own; +A spell is laid on sod and stone, +Night and Day were tampered with, +Every quality and pith +Surcharged and sultry with a power +That works its will on age and hour. + + + +WORSHIP + +This is he, who, felled by foes, +Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: +He to captivity was sold, +But him no prison-bars would hold: +Though they sealed him in a rock, +Mountain chains he can unlock: +Thrown to lions for their meat, +The crouching lion kissed his feet; +Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, +But arched o'er him an honoring vault. +This is he men miscall Fate, +Threading dark ways, arriving late, +But ever coming in time to crown +The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. +He is the oldest, and best known, +More near than aught thou call'st thy own, +Yet, greeted in another's eyes, +Disconcerts with glad surprise. +This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, +Floods with blessings unawares. +Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line +Severing rightly his from thine, +Which is human, which divine. + + + +PRUDENCE + +Theme no poet gladly sung, +Fair to old and foul to young; +Scorn not thou the love of parts, +And the articles of arts. +Grandeur of the perfect sphere +Thanks the atoms that cohere. + + + +NATURE + +I + +A subtle chain of countless rings +The next unto the farthest brings; +The eye reads omens where it goes, +And speaks all languages the rose; +And, striving to be man, the worm +Mounts through all the spires of form. + +II + +The rounded world is fair to see, +Nine times folded in mystery: +Though baffled seers cannot impart +The secret of its laboring heart, +Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, +And all is clear from east to west. +Spirit that lurks each form within +Beckons to spirit of its kin; +Self-kindled every atom glows +And hints the future which it owes. + + + +THE INFORMING SPIRIT + +I + +There is no great and no small +To the Soul that maketh all: +And where it cometh, all things are; +And it cometh everywhere. + +II + +I am owner of the sphere, +Of the seven stars and the solar year, +Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, +Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. + + + +CIRCLES + +Nature centres into balls, +And her proud ephemerals, +Fast to surface and outside, +Scan the profile of the sphere; +Knew they what that signified, +A new genesis were here. + + + +INTELLECT + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals;-- +The sower scatters broad his seed; +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +GIFTS + +Gifts of one who loved me,-- +'T was high time they came; +When he ceased to love me, +Time they stopped for shame. + + +PROMISE + +In countless upward-striving waves +The moon-drawn tide-wave strives; +In thousand far-transplanted grafts +The parent fruit survives; +So, in the new-born millions, +The perfect Adam lives. +Not less are summer mornings dear +To every child they wake, +And each with novel life his sphere +Fills for his proper sake. + + + +CARITAS + +In the suburb, in the town, +On the railway, in the square, +Came a beam of goodness down +Doubling daylight everywhere: +Peace now each for malice takes, +Beauty for his sinful weeds, +For the angel Hope aye makes +Him an angel whom she leads. + + + +POWER + +His tongue was framed to music, +And his hand was armed with skill; +His face was the mould of beauty, +And his heart the throne of will. + + + +WEALTH + +Who shall tell what did befall, +Far away in time, when once, +Over the lifeless ball, +Hung idle stars and suns? +What god the element obeyed? +Wings of what wind the lichen bore, +Wafting the puny seeds of power, +Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade? +And well the primal pioneer +Knew the strong task to it assigned, +Patient through Heaven's enormous year +To build in matter home for mind. +From air the creeping centuries drew +The matted thicket low and wide, +This must the leaves of ages strew +The granite slab to clothe and hide, +Ere wheat can wave its golden pride. +What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled +(In dizzy aeons dim and mute +The reeling brain can ill compute) +Copper and iron, lead and gold? +What oldest star the fame can save +Of races perishing to pave +The planet with a floor of lime? +Dust is their pyramid and mole: +Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed +Under the tumbling mountain's breast, +In the safe herbal of the coal? +But when the quarried means were piled, +All is waste and worthless, till +Arrives the wise selecting will, +And, out of slime and chaos, Wit +Draws the threads of fair and fit. +Then temples rose, and towns, and marts, +The shop of toil, the hall of arts; +Then flew the sail across the seas +To feed the North from tropic trees; +The storm-wind wove, the torrent span, +Where they were bid, the rivers ran; +New slaves fulfilled the poet's dream, +Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam. +Then docks were built, and crops were stored, +And ingots added to the hoard. +But though light-headed man forget, +Remembering Matter pays her debt: +Still, through her motes and masses, draw +Electric thrills and ties of law, +Which bind the strengths of Nature wild +To the conscience of a child. + + + +ILLUSIONS + +Flow, flow the waves hated, +Accursed, adored, +The waves of mutation; +No anchorage is. +Sleep is not, death is not; +Who seem to die live. +House you were born in, +Friends of your spring-time, +Old man and young maid, +Day's toil and its guerdon, +They are all vanishing, +Fleeing to fables, +Cannot be moored. +See the stars through them, +Through treacherous marbles. +Know the stars yonder, +The stars everlasting, +Are fugitive also, +And emulate, vaulted, +The lambent heat lightning +And fire-fly's flight. + +When thou dost return +On the wave's circulation, +Behold the shimmer, +The wild dissipation, +And, out of endeavor +To change and to flow, +The gas become solid, +And phantoms and nothings +Return to be things, +And endless imbroglio +Is law and the world,-- +Then first shalt thou know, +That in the wild turmoil, +Horsed on the Proteus, +Thou ridest to power, +And to endurance. + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + * * * * * + + + + +QUATRAINS + + + +A.H. + +High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, +Her manners made of bounty well refined; +Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, +Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. + + + +HUSH! + +Every thought is public, +Every nook is wide; +Thy gossips spread each whisper, +And the gods from side to side. + + + +ORATOR + +He who has no hands +Perforce must use his tongue; +Foxes are so cunning +Because they are not strong. + + + +ARTIST + +Quit the hut, frequent the palace, +Reck not what the people say; +For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, +Huntsmen find the easiest way. + + + +POET + +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Steers his bark and trims his sail; +Right out to sea his courses stand, +New worlds to find in pinnace frail. + + + +POET + +To clothe the fiery thought +In simple words succeeds, +For still the craft of genius is +To mask a king in weeds. + + + +BOTANIST + +Go thou to thy learned task, +I stay with the flowers of Spring: +Do thou of the Ages ask +What me the Hours will bring. + + + +GARDENER + +True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, +Expound the Vedas of the violet, +Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, +See the plum redden, and the beurré stoop. + + + +FORESTER + +He took the color of his vest +From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; +For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, +So walks the woodman, unespied. + + + +NORTHMAN + +The gale that wrecked you on the sand, +It helped my rowers to row; +The storm is my best galley hand +And drives me where I go. + + + +FROM ALCUIN + +The sea is the road of the bold, +Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, +The pit wherein the streams are rolled +And fountain of the rains. + + + +EXCELSIOR + +Over his head were the maple buds, +And over the tree was the moon, +And over the moon were the starry studs +That drop from the angels' shoon. + + + +S.H. + +With beams December planets dart +His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, +July was in his sunny heart, +October in his liberal hand. + + + +BORROWING + +FROM THE FRENCH + +Some of your hurts you have cured, +And the sharpest you still have survived, +But what torments of grief you endured +From evils which never arrived! + + + +NATURE + +Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, +And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: +But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, +Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die. + + + +FATE + +Her planted eye to-day controls, +Is in the morrow most at home, +And sternly calls to being souls +That curse her when they come. + + + +HOROSCOPE + +Ere he was born, the stars of fate +Plotted to make him rich and great: +When from the womb the babe was loosed, +The gate of gifts behind him closed. + + + +POWER + +Cast the bantling on the rocks, +Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, +Wintered with the hawk and fox, +Power and speed be hands and feet. + + + +CLIMACTERIC + +I am not wiser for my age, +Nor skilful by my grief; +Life loiters at the book's first page,-- +Ah! could we turn the leaf. + + + +HERI, CRAS, HODIE + +Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, +To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: +Future or Past no richer secret folds, +O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. + + + +MEMORY + +Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall +Shadows of the thoughts of day, +And thy fortunes, as they fall, +The bias of the will betray. + + + +LOVE + +Love on his errand bound to go +Can swim the flood and wade through snow, +Where way is none, 't will creep and wind +And eat through Alps its home to find. + + + +SACRIFICE + +Though love repine, and reason chafe, +There came a voice without reply,-- +''T is man's perdition to be safe, +When for the truth he ought to die.' + + + +PERICLES + +Well and wisely said the Greek, +Be thou faithful, but not fond; +To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,-- +The Furies wait beyond. + + + +CASELLA + +Test of the poet is knowledge of love, +For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; +Never was poet, of late or of yore, +Who was not tremulous with love-lore. + + + +SHAKSPEARE + +I see all human wits +Are measured but a few; +Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, +Lone as the blessed Jew. + + + +HAFIZ + +Her passions the shy violet +From Hafiz never hides; +Love-longings of the raptured bird +The bird to him confides. + + + +NATURE IN LEASTS + +As sings the pine-tree in the wind, +So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; +Her strength and soul has laughing France +Shed in each drop of wine. + + + +[Greek: ADAKRYN NEMONTAI AIONA] + +'A New commandment,' said the smiling Muse, +'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach';-- +Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, +And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore +Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. + + + + +TRANSLATIONS + + + +SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + +Never did sculptor's dream unfold +A form which marble doth not hold +In its white block; yet it therein shall find +Only the hand secure and bold +Which still obeys the mind. +So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, +The ill I shun, the good I claim; +I alas! not well alive, +Miss the aim whereto I strive. +Not love, nor beauty's pride, +Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, +If, whilst within thy heart abide +Both death and pity, my unequal skill +Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. + + + +THE EXILE + +FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI + +In Farsistan the violet spreads +Its leaves to the rival sky; +I ask how far is the Tigris flood, +And the vine that grows thereby? + +Except the amber morning wind, +Not one salutes me here; +There is no lover in all Bagdat +To offer the exile cheer. + +I know that thou, O morning wind! +O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, +And thou, heart-warming nightingale! +My father's orchard knowest. + +The merchant hath stuffs of price, +And gems from the sea-washed strand, +And princes offer me grace +To stay in the Syrian land; + +But what is gold _for_, but for gifts? +And dark, without love, is the day; +And all that I see in Bagdat +Is the Tigris to float me away. + + + +FROM HAFIZ + +I said to heaven that glowed above, +O hide yon sun-filled zone, +Hide all the stars you boast; +For, in the world of love +And estimation true, +The heaped-up harvest of the moon +Is worth one barley-corn at most, +The Pleiads' sheaf but two. + + + +If my darling should depart, +And search the skies for prouder friends, +God forbid my angry heart +In other love should seek amends. + +When the blue horizon's hoop +Me a little pinches here, +Instant to my grave I stoop, +And go find thee in the sphere. + + + +EPITAPH + +Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest +Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; +For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, +She laid a slab of marble on his head. + + + +They say, through patience, chalk +Becomes a ruby stone; +Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood +The chalk is crimson grown. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls +Know the worth of Oman's pearls? +Give the gem which dims the moon +To the noblest, or to none. + + + +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, +Beauty sits and Music calls; +Where thy form and favor come, +All good creatures have their home. + + + +On prince or bride no diamond stone +Half so gracious ever shone, +As the light of enterprise +Beaming from a young man's eyes. + + + +FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + +Each spot where tulips prank their state +Has drunk the life-blood of the great; +The violets yon field which stain +Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. + + + +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art, +Show me the forward way, since thou art guide, +I put no faith in pilot or in chart, +Since they are transient, and thou dost abide. + + + +FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, +And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. + + + +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, +The appointed, and the unappointed day; +On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, +Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay. + + + +FROM IBN JEMIN + +Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;-- +A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; +And the second, borrowed money,--though the smiling lender say +That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. + + + +THE FLUTE + +FROM HILALI + +Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, +Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; +Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,-- +If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I? + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM HAFIZ + +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, +Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +Not in their houses stand the stars, +But o'er the pinnacles of thine! + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, +And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. + + + +SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + + [Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical + dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly + bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he + revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, + as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.] + +Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, +Nor head from foot can I discern, +Nor my heart from love of mine, +Nor the wine-cup from the wine. +All my doing, all my leaving, +Reaches not to my perceiving; +Lost in whirling spheres I rove, +And know only that I love. + + I am seeker of the stone, +Living gem of Solomon; +From the shore of souls arrived, +In the sea of sense I dived; +But what is land, or what is wave, +To me who only jewels crave? +Love is the air-fed fire intense, +And my heart the frankincense; +As the rich aloes flames, I glow, +Yet the censer cannot know. +I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; +Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + Ask not me, as Muftis can, +To recite the Alcoran; +Well I love the meaning sweet,-- +I tread the book beneath my feet. + + Lo! the God's love blazes higher, +Till all difference expire. +What are Moslems? what are Giaours? +All are Love's, and all are ours. +I embrace the true believers, +But I reck not of deceivers. +Firm to Heaven my bosom clings, +Heedless of inferior things; +Down on earth there, underfoot, +What men chatter know I not. + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +APPENDIX + + * * * * * + + + +THE POET + +I + +Right upward on the road of fame +With sounding steps the poet came; +Born and nourished in miracles, +His feet were shod with golden bells, +Or where he stepped the soil did peal +As if the dust were glass and steel. +The gallant child where'er he came +Threw to each fact a tuneful name. +The things whereon he cast his eyes +Could not the nations rebaptize, +Nor Time's snows hide the names he set, +Nor last posterity forget. +Yet every scroll whereon he wrote +In latent fire his secret thought, +Fell unregarded to the ground, +Unseen by such as stood around. +The pious wind took it away, +The reverent darkness hid the lay. +Methought like water-haunting birds +Divers or dippers were his words, +And idle clowns beside the mere +At the new vision gape and jeer. +But when the noisy scorn was past, +Emerge the wingèd words in haste. +New-bathed, new-trimmed, on healthy wing, +Right to the heaven they steer and sing. + +A Brother of the world, his song +Sounded like a tempest strong +Which tore from oaks their branches broad, +And stars from the ecliptic road. +Times wore he as his clothing-weeds, +He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. +As melts the iceberg in the seas, +As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, +As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, +The solid kingdoms like a dream +Resist in vain his motive strain, +They totter now and float amain. +For the Muse gave special charge +His learning should be deep and large, +And his training should not scant +The deepest lore of wealth or want: +His flesh should feel, his eyes should read +Every maxim of dreadful Need; +In its fulness he should taste +Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; +Full fed, but not intoxicated; +He should be loved; he should be hated; +A blooming child to children dear, +His heart should palpitate with fear. + +And well he loved to quit his home +And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam +To read new landscapes and old skies;-- +But oh, to see his solar eyes +Like meteors which chose their way +And rived the dark like a new day! +Not lazy grazing on all they saw, +Each chimney-pot and cottage door, +Farm-gear and village picket-fence, +But, feeding on magnificence, +They bounded to the horizon's edge +And searched with the sun's privilege. +Landward they reached the mountains old +Where pastoral tribes their flocks infold, +Saw rivers run seaward by cities high +And the seas wash the low-hung sky; +Saw the endless rack of the firmament +And the sailing moon where the cloud was rent, +And through man and woman and sea and star +Saw the dance of Nature forward and far, +Through worlds and races and terms and times +Saw musical order and pairing rhymes. + +II + +The gods talk in the breath of the woods, +They talk in the shaken pine, +And fill the long reach of the old seashore +With dialogue divine; +And the poet who overhears +Some random word they say +Is the fated man of men +Whom the ages must obey: +One who having nectar drank +Into blissful orgies sank; +He takes no mark of night or day, +He cannot go, he cannot stay, +He would, yet would not, counsel keep, +But, like a walker in his sleep +With staring eye that seeth none, +Ridiculously up and down +Seeks how he may fitly tell +The heart-o'erlading miracle. + +Not yet, not yet, +Impatient friend,-- +A little while attend; +Not yet I sing: but I must wait, +My hand upon the silent string, +Fully until the end. +I see the coming light, +I see the scattered gleams, +Aloft, beneath, on left and right +The stars' own ether beams; +These are but seeds of days, +Not yet a steadfast morn, +An intermittent blaze, +An embryo god unborn. + +How all things sparkle, +The dust is alive, +To the birth they arrive: +I snuff the breath of my morning afar, +I see the pale lustres condense to a star: +The fading colors fix, +The vanishing are seen, +And the world that shall be +Twins the world that has been. +I know the appointed hour, +I greet my office well, +Never faster, never slower +Revolves the fatal wheel! +The Fairest enchants me, +The Mighty commands me, +Saying, 'Stand in thy place; +Up and eastward turn thy face; +As mountains for the morning wait, +Coming early, coming late, +So thou attend the enriching Fate +Which none can stay, and none accelerate. +I am neither faint nor weary, +Fill thy will, O faultless heart! +Here from youth to age I tarry,-- +Count it flight of bird or dart. +My heart at the heart of things +Heeds no longer lapse of time, +Rushing ages moult their wings, +Bathing in thy day sublime. + +The sun set, but set not his hope:-- +Stars rose, his faith was earlier up: +Fixed on the enormous galaxy, +Deeper and older seemed his eye, +And matched his sufferance sublime +The taciturnity of Time. + +Beside his hut and shading oak, +Thus to himself the poet spoke, +'I have supped to-night with gods, +I will not go under a wooden roof: +As I walked among the hills +In the love which Nature fills, +The great stars did not shine aloof, +They hurried down from their deep abodes +And hemmed me in their glittering troop. + + 'Divine Inviters! I accept +The courtesy ye have shown and kept +From ancient ages for the bard, +To modulate +With finer fate +A fortune harsh and hard. +With aim like yours +I watch your course, +Who never break your lawful dance +By error or intemperance. +O birds of ether without wings! +O heavenly ships without a sail! +O fire of fire! O best of things! +O mariners who never fail! +Sail swiftly through your amber vault, +An animated law, a presence to exalt.' + +Ah, happy if a sun or star +Could chain the wheel of Fortune's car, +And give to hold an even state, +Neither dejected nor elate, +That haply man upraised might keep +The height of Fancy's far-eyed steep. +In vain: the stars are glowing wheels, +Giddy with motion Nature reels, +Sun, moon, man, undulate and stream, +The mountains flow, the solids seem, +Change acts, reacts; back, forward hurled, +And pause were palsy to the world.-- +The morn is come: the starry crowds +Are hid behind the thrice-piled clouds; +The new day lowers, and equal odds +Have changed not less the guest of gods; +Discrowned and timid, thoughtless, worn, +The child of genius sits forlorn: +Between two sleeps a short day's stealth, +'Mid many ails a brittle health, +A cripple of God, half true, half formed, +And by great sparks Promethean warmed, +Constrained by impotence to adjourn +To infinite time his eager turn, +His lot of action at the urn. +He by false usage pinned about +No breath therein, no passage out, +Cast wishful glances at the stars +And wishful saw the Ocean stream:-- +'Merge me in the brute universe, +Or lift to a diviner dream!' + +Beside him sat enduring love, +Upon him noble eyes did rest, +Which, for the Genius that there strove. +The follies bore that it invest. +They spoke not, for their earnest sense +Outran the craft of eloquence. + +He whom God had thus preferred,-- +To whom sweet angels ministered, +Saluted him each morn as brother, +And bragged his virtues to each other,-- +Alas! how were they so beguiled, +And they so pure? He, foolish child, +A facile, reckless, wandering will, +Eager for good, not hating ill, +Thanked Nature for each stroke she dealt; +On his tense chords all strokes were felt, +The good, the bad with equal zeal, +He asked, he only asked, to feel. +Timid, self-pleasing, sensitive, +With Gods, with fools, content to live; +Bended to fops who bent to him; +Surface with surfaces did swim. + +'Sorrow, sorrow!' the angels cried, +'Is this dear Nature's manly pride? +Call hither thy mortal enemy, +Make him glad thy fall to see! +Yon waterflag, yon sighing osier, +A drop can shake, a breath can fan; +Maidens laugh and weep; Composure +Is the pudency of man,' + +Again by night the poet went +From the lighted halls +Beneath the darkling firmament +To the seashore, to the old seawalls, +Out shone a star beneath the cloud, +The constellation glittered soon,-- +You have no lapse; so have ye glowed +But once in your dominion. +And yet, dear stars, I know ye shine +Only by needs and loves of mine; +Light-loving, light-asking life in me +Feeds those eternal lamps I see. +And I to whom your light has spoken, +I, pining to be one of you, +I fall, my faith is broken, +Ye scorn me from your deeps of blue. +Or if perchance, ye orbs of Fate, +Your ne'er averted glance +Beams with a will compassionate +On sons of time and chance, +Then clothe these hands with power +In just proportion, +Nor plant immense designs +Where equal means are none.' + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS + +Means, dear brother, ask them not; + Soul's desire is means enow, +Pure content is angel's lot, + Thine own theatre art thou. + +Gentler far than falls the snow +In the woodwalks still and low +Fell the lesson on his heart +And woke the fear lest angels part. + +POET + +I see your forms with deep content, +I know that ye are excellent, + But will ye stay? +I hear the rustle of wings, +Ye meditate what to say +Ere ye go to quit me for ever and aye. + +SPIRITS + +Brother, we are no phantom band; +Brother, accept this fatal hand. +Aches thine unbelieving heart +With the fear that we must part? +See, all we are rooted here +By one thought to one same sphere; +From thyself thou canst not flee,-- +From thyself no more can we. + +POET + +Suns and stars their courses keep, +But not angels of the deep: +Day and night their turn observe, +But the day of day may swerve. +Is there warrant that the waves +Of thought in their mysterious caves +Will heap in me their highest tide, +In me therewith beatified? +Unsure the ebb and flood of thought, +The moon comes back,--the Spirit not. + +SPIRITS + +Brother, sweeter is the Law +Than all the grace Love ever saw; +We are its suppliants. By it, we +Draw the breath of Eternity; +Serve thou it not for daily bread,-- +Serve it for pain and fear and need. +Love it, though it hide its light; +By love behold the sun at night. +If the Law should thee forget, +More enamoured serve it yet; +Though it hate thee, suffer long; +Put the Spirit in the wrong; +Brother, no decrepitude + Chills the limbs of Time; +As fleet his feet, his hands as good, + His vision as sublime: +On Nature's wheels there is no rust; +Nor less on man's enchanted dust + Beauty and Force alight. + + + +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + +I + +There are beggars in Iran and Araby, +SAID was hungrier than all; +Hafiz said he was a fly +That came to every festival. +He came a pilgrim to the Mosque +On trail of camel and caravan, +Knew every temple and kiosk +Out from Mecca to Ispahan; +Northward he went to the snowy hills, +At court he sat in the grave Divan. +His music was the south-wind's sigh, +His lamp, the maiden's downcast eye, +And ever the spell of beauty came +And turned the drowsy world to flame. +By lake and stream and gleaming hall +And modest copse and the forest tall, +Where'er he went, the magic guide +Kept its place by the poet's side. +Said melted the days like cups of pearl, +Served high and low, the lord and the churl, +Loved harebells nodding on a rock, +A cabin hung with curling smoke, +Ring of axe or hum of wheel +Or gleam which use can paint on steel, +And huts and tents; nor loved he less +Stately lords in palaces, +Princely women hard to please, +Fenced by form and ceremony, +Decked by courtly rites and dress +And etiquette of gentilesse. +But when the mate of the snow and wind, +He left each civil scale behind: +Him wood-gods fed with honey wild +And of his memory beguiled. +He loved to watch and wake +When the wing of the south-wind whipt the lake +And the glassy surface in ripples brake +And fled in pretty frowns away +Like the flitting boreal lights, +Rippling roses in northern nights, +Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings +In which the sudden wind-god rings. +In caves and hollow trees he crept +And near the wolf and panther slept. +He came to the green ocean's brim +And saw the wheeling sea-birds skim, +Summer and winter, o'er the wave, +Like creatures of a skiey mould, +Impassible to heat or cold. +He stood before the tumbling main +With joy too tense for sober brain; +He shared the life of the element, +The tie of blood and home was rent: +As if in him the welkin walked, +The winds took flesh, the mountains talked, +And he the bard, a crystal soul +Sphered and concentric with the whole. + +II + +The Dervish whined to Said, +"Thou didst not tarry while I prayed. +Beware the fire that Eblis burned," +But Saadi coldly thus returned, +"Once with manlike love and fear +I gave thee for an hour my ear, +I kept the sun and stars at bay, +And love, for words thy tongue could say. +I cannot sell my heaven again +For all that rattles in thy brain." + +III + +Said Saadi, "When I stood before +Hassan the camel-driver's door, +I scorned the fame of Timour brave; +Timour, to Hassan, was a slave. +In every glance of Hassan's eye +I read great years of victory, +And I, who cower mean and small +In the frequent interval +When wisdom not with me resides, +Worship Toil's wisdom that abides. +I shunned his eyes, that faithful man's, +I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance." + +IV + +The civil world will much forgive +To bards who from its maxims live, +But if, grown bold, the poet dare +Bend his practice to his prayer +And following his mighty heart +Shame the times and live apart,-- +_Vae solis!_ I found this, +That of goods I could not miss +If I fell within the line, +Once a member, all was mine, +Houses, banquets, gardens, fountains, +Fortune's delectable mountains; +But if I would walk alone, +Was neither cloak nor crumb my own. +And thus the high Muse treated me, +Directly never greeted me, +But when she spread her dearest spells, +Feigned to speak to some one else. +I was free to overhear, +Or I might at will forbear; +Yet mark me well, that idle word +Thus at random overheard +Was the symphony of spheres, +And proverb of a thousand years, +The light wherewith all planets shone, +The livery all events put on, +It fell in rain, it grew in grain, +It put on flesh in friendly form, +Frowned in my foe and growled in storm, +It spoke in Tullius Cicero, +In Milton and in Angelo: +I travelled and found it at Rome; +Eastward it filled all Heathendom +And it lay on my hearth when I came home. + +V + +Mask thy wisdom with delight, +Toy with the bow, yet hit the white, +As Jelaleddin old and gray; +He seemed to bask, to dream and play +Without remoter hope or fear +Than still to entertain his ear +And pass the burning summer-time +In the palm-grove with a rhyme; +Heedless that each cunning word +Tribes and ages overheard: +Those idle catches told the laws +Holding Nature to her cause. + +God only knew how Saadi dined; +Roses he ate, and drank the wind; +He freelier breathed beside the pine, +In cities he was low and mean; +The mountain waters washed him clean +And by the sea-waves he was strong; +He heard their medicinal song, +Asked no physician but the wave, +No palace but his sea-beat cave. + +Saadi held the Muse in awe, +She was his mistress and his law; +A twelvemonth he could silence hold, +Nor ran to speak till she him told; +He felt the flame, the fanning wings, +Nor offered words till they were things, +Glad when the solid mountain swims +In music and uplifting hymns. + +Charmed from fagot and from steel, +Harvests grew upon his tongue, +Past and future must reveal +All their heart when Saadi sung; +Sun and moon must fall amain +Like sower's seeds into his brain, +There quickened to be born again. + +The free winds told him what they knew, +Discoursed of fortune as they blew; +Omens and signs that filled the air +To him authentic witness bare; +The birds brought auguries on their wings, +And carolled undeceiving things +Him to beckon, him to warn; +Well might then the poet scorn +To learn of scribe or courier +Things writ in vaster character; +And on his mind at dawn of day +Soft shadows of the evening lay. + + * * * + +Pale genius roves alone, +No scout can track his way, +None credits him till he have shown +His diamonds to the day. + +Not his the feaster's wine, +Nor land, nor gold, nor power, +By want and pain God screeneth him +Till his elected hour. + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals:-- +The sower scatters broad his seed, +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +I grieve that better souls than mine +Docile read my measured line: +High destined youths and holy maids +Hallow these my orchard shades; +Environ me and me baptize +With light that streams from gracious eyes. +I dare not be beloved and known, +I ungrateful, I alone. + +Ever find me dim regards, +Love of ladies, love of bards, +Marked forbearance, compliments, +Tokens of benevolence. +What then, can I love myself? +Fame is profitless as pelf, +A good in Nature not allowed +They love me, as I love a cloud +Sailing falsely in the sphere, +Hated mist if it come near. + + + +For thought, and not praise; +Thought is the wages +For which I sell days, +Will gladly sell ages +And willing grow old +Deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold, +Melting matter into dreams, +Panoramas which I saw +And whatever glows or seems +Into substance, into Law. + + + +For Fancy's gift +Can mountains lift; +The Muse can knit +What is past, what is done, +With the web that's just begun; +Making free with time and size, +Dwindles here, there magnifies, +Swells a rain-drop to a tun; +So to repeat +No word or feat +Crowds in a day the sum of ages, +And blushing Love outwits the sages. + + + +Try the might the Muse affords +And the balm of thoughtful words; +Bring music to the desolate; +Hang roses on the stony fate. + + + +But over all his crowning grace, +Wherefor thanks God his daily praise, +Is the purging of his eye +To see the people of the sky: +From blue mount and headland dim +Friendly hands stretch forth to him, +Him they beckon, him advise +Of heavenlier prosperities +And a more excelling grace +And a truer bosom-glow +Than the wine-fed feasters know. +They turn his heart from lovely maids, +And make the darlings of the earth +Swainish, coarse and nothing worth: +Teach him gladly to postpone +Pleasures to another stage +Beyond the scope of human age, +Freely as task at eve undone +Waits unblamed to-morrow's sun. + + + +By thoughts I lead +Bards to say what nations need; +What imports, what irks and what behooves, +Framed afar as Fates and Loves. + + + +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, +So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. + + + +I framed his tongue to music, + I armed his hand with skill, +I moulded his face to beauty + And his heart the throne of Will. + + + +For every God +Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. + + + +For art, for music over-thrilled, +The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. + + + +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; +Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. + + + +That book is good +Which puts me in a working mood. + Unless to Thought is added Will, + Apollo is an imbecile. +What parts, what gems, what colors shine,-- +Ah, but I miss the grand design. + + + +Like vaulters in a circus round +Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. + + + +For Genius made his cabin wide, +And Love led Gods therein to bide. + + + +The atom displaces all atoms beside, +And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. + + + +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. + + + +He could condense cerulean ether +Into the very best sole-leather. + + + +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, +In mercy, on one little head. + + + +I have no brothers and no peers, +And the dearest interferes: +When I would spend a lonely day, +Sun and moon are in my way. + + + +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +Wanting the echo in my brain. + + + +He planted where the deluge ploughed. +His hired hands were wind and cloud; +His eyes detect the Gods concealed +In the hummock of the field. + + + +For what need I of book or priest, +Or sibyl from the mummied East, +When every star is Bethlehem star? +I count as many as there are +Cinquefoils or violets in the grass, +So many saints and saviors, +So many high behaviors +Salute the bard who is alive +And only sees what he doth give. + + + +Coin the day-dawn into lines +In which its proper splendor shines; +Coin the moonlight into verse +Which all its marvel shall rehearse, +Chasing with words fast-flowing things; nor try +To plant thy shrivelled pedantry +On the shoulders of the sky. + + + +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +A better voice peals through my song. + + + +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, +A bolder foot is still rewarded. + + + +His instant thought a poet spoke, +And filled the age his fame; +An inch of ground the lightning strook +But lit the sky with flame. + + + +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; +And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. + + + +The Asmodean feat is mine, +To spin my sand-heap into twine. + + + +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue, +But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. + + + + +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + + +NATURE + + + +The patient Pan, +Drunken with nectar, +Sleeps or feigns slumber, +Drowsily humming +Music to the march of time. +This poor tooting, creaking cricket, +Pan, half asleep, rolling over +His great body in the grass, +Tooting, creaking, +Feigns to sleep, sleeping never; +'T is his manner, +Well he knows his own affair, +Piling mountain chains of phlegm +On the nervous brain of man, +As he holds down central fires +Under Alps and Andes cold; +Haply else we could not live, +Life would be too wild an ode. + + + +Come search the wood for flowers,-- +Wild tea and wild pea, +Grapevine and succory, +Coreopsis +And liatris, +Flaunting in their bowers; +Grass with green flag half-mast high, +Succory to match the sky, +Columbine with horn of honey, +Scented fern and agrimony; +Forest full of essences +Fit for fairy presences, +Peppermint and sassafras, +Sweet fern, mint and vernal grass, +Panax, black birch, sugar maple, +Sweet and scent for Dian's table, +Elder-blow, sarsaparilla, +Wild rose, lily, dry vanilla,-- +Spices in the plants that run +To bring their first fruits to the sun. +Earliest heats that follow frore +Nervèd leaf of hellebore, +Sweet willow, checkerberry red, +With its savory leaf for bread. +Silver birch and black +With the selfsame spice +Found in polygala root and rind, +Sassafras, fern, benzöine, +Mouse-ear, cowslip, wintergreen, +Which by aroma may compel +The frost to spare, what scents so well. + + + +Where the fungus broad and red +Lifts its head, +Like poisoned loaf of elfin bread, +Where the aster grew +With the social goldenrod, +In a chapel, which the dew +Made beautiful for God:-- +O what would Nature say? +She spared no speech to-day: +The fungus and the bulrush spoke, +Answered the pine-tree and the oak, +The wizard South blew down the glen, +Filled the straits and filled the wide, +Each maple leaf turned up its silver side. +All things shine in his smoky ray, +And all we see are pictures high; +Many a high hillside, +While oaks of pride +Climb to their tops, +And boys run out upon their leafy ropes. +The maple street +In the houseless wood, +Voices followed after, +Every shrub and grape leaf +Rang with fairy laughter. +I have heard them fall +Like the strain of all +King Oberon's minstrelsy. +Would hear the everlasting +And know the only strong? +You must worship fasting, +You must listen long. +Words of the air +Which birds of the air +Carry aloft, below, around, +To the isles of the deep, +To the snow-capped steep, +To the thundercloud. + + + +For Nature, true and like in every place, +Will hint her secret in a garden patch, +Or in lone corners of a doleful heath, +As in the Andes watched by fleets at sea, +Or the sky-piercing horns of Himmaleh; +And, when I would recall the scenes I dreamed +On Adirondac steeps, I know +Small need have I of Turner or Daguerre, +Assured to find the token once again +In silver lakes that unexhausted gleam +And peaceful woods beside my cottage door. + + + +What all the books of ages paint, I have. +What prayers and dreams of youthful genius feign, +I daily dwell in, and am not so blind +But I can see the elastic tent of day +Belike has wider hospitality +Than my few needs exhaust, and bids me read +The quaint devices on its mornings gay. +Yet Nature will not be in full possessed, +And they who truliest love her, heralds are +And harbingers of a majestic race, +Who, having more absorbed, more largely yield, +And walk on earth as the sun walks in the sphere. + + + +But never yet the man was found +Who could the mystery expound, +Though Adam, born when oaks were young, +Endured, the Bible says, as long; +But when at last the patriarch died +The Gordian noose was still untied. +He left, though goodly centuries old, +Meek Nature's secret still untold. + + + +Atom from atom yawns as far +As moon from earth, or star from star. + + + +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + To deck the morning of the year, +Why tinge thy lustres jubilant + With forecast or with fear? + +Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, +Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die. + + + +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +To use my land to put his rainbows in. + + + +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, +And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. + + + +What central flowing forces, say, +Make up thy splendor, matchless day? + + + +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more; +In her hundred-gated Thebes every chamber was a door, +A door to something grander,--loftier walls, and vaster floor. + + + +She paints with white and red the moors +To draw the nations out of doors. + + + +A score of airy miles will smooth +Rough Monadnoc to a gem. + + + +THE EARTH + +Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar +Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. + + + +THE HEAVENS + +Wisp and meteor nightly falling, +But the Stars of God remain. + + + +TRANSITION + +See yonder leafless trees against the sky, +How they diffuse themselves into the air, +And, ever subdividing, separate +Limbs into branches, branches into twigs. +As if they loved the element, and hasted +To dissipate their being into it. + + + +Parks and ponds are good by day; +I do not delight +In black acres of the night, +Nor my unseasoned step disturbs +The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs. + + + +In Walden wood the chickadee +Runs round the pine and maple tree +Intent on insect slaughter: +O tufted entomologist! +Devour as many as you list, +Then drink in Walden water. + + + +The low December vault in June be lifted high, +And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. + + + +THE GARDEN + +Many things the garden shows, +And pleased I stray +From tree to tree +Watching the white pear-bloom, +Bee-infested quince or plum. +I could walk days, years, away +Till the slow ripening, secular tree +Had reached its fruiting-time, +Nor think it long. + + + +Solar insect on the wing +In the garden murmuring, +Soothing with thy summer horn +Swains by winter pinched and worn. + + + +BIRDS + +Darlings of children and of bard, +Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, +All of worth and beauty set +Gems in Nature's cabinet; +These the fables she esteems +Reality most like to dreams. +Welcome back, you little nations, +Far-travelled in the south plantations; +Bring your music and rhythmic flight, +Your colors for our eyes' delight: +Freely nestle in our roof, +Weave your chamber weatherproof; +And your enchanting manners bring +And your autumnal gathering. +Exchange in conclave general +Greetings kind to each and all, +Conscious each of duty done +And unstainèd as the sun. + + + +WATER + +The water understands +Civilization well; +It wets my foot, but prettily +It chills my life, but wittily, +It is not disconcerted, +It is not broken-hearted: +Well used, it decketh joy, +Adorneth, doubleth joy: +Ill used, it will destroy, +In perfect time and measure +With a face of golden pleasure +Elegantly destroy. + + + +NAHANT + +All day the waves assailed the rock, + I heard no church-bell chime, +The sea-beat scorns the minster clock + And breaks the glass of Time. + + + +SUNRISE + +Would you know what joy is hid +In our green Musketaquid, +And for travelled eyes what charms +Draw us to these meadow farms, +Come and I will show you all +Makes each day a festival. +Stand upon this pasture hill, +Face the eastern star until +The slow eye of heaven shall show +The world above, the world below. + +Behold the miracle! +Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad +And stood beneath the firmament, +A watchman in a dark gray tent, +Waiting till God create the earth,-- +Behold the new majestic birth! +The mottled clouds, like scraps of wool, +Steeped in the light are beautiful. +What majestic stillness broods +Over these colored solitudes. +Sleeps the vast East in pleasèd peace, +Up the far mountain walls the streams increase +Inundating the heaven +With spouting streams and waves of light +Which round the floating isles unite:-- +See the world below +Baptized with the pure element, +A clear and glorious firmament +Touched with life by every beam. +I share the good with every flower, +I drink the nectar of the hour:-- +This is not the ancient earth +Whereof old chronicles relate +The tragic tales of crime and fate; +But rather, like its beads of dew +And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, +An exhalation of the time. + + * * * + + + +NIGHT IN JUNE + +I left my dreary page and sallied forth, +Received the fair inscriptions of the night; +The moon was making amber of the world, +Glittered with silver every cottage pane, +The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom. + The meadows broad +From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers +Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies +Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court +In fairy groves of herds-grass. + + + +He lives not who can refuse me; +All my force saith, Come and use me: +A gleam of sun, a summer rain, +And all the zone is green again. + + + +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, +Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, +As if on such stern forms and haunts +A wintry storm more fitly fell. + + + +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges +And split to flakes the crystal ledges. + + + +MAIA + +Illusion works impenetrable, +Weaving webs innumerable, +Her gay pictures never fail, +Crowds each on other, veil on veil, +Charmer who will be believed +By man who thirsts to be deceived. + + + +Illusions like the tints of pearl, +Or changing colors of the sky, +Or ribbons of a dancing girl +That mend her beauty to the eye. + + + +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon +To share the sunshine that so spicy is. + + + +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, +Gropes for columns strong as he; +When his ringlets grew and curled, +Groped for axle of the world. + + + +But Nature whistled with all her winds, +Did as she pleased and went her way. + + + +LIFE + + + +A train of gay and clouded days +Dappled with joy and grief and praise, +Beauty to fire us, saints to save, +Escort us to a little grave. + + + +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, +For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, +So guilt not traverses his tender will. + + + +Around the man who seeks a noble end, +Not angels but divinities attend. + + + +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, +The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. + + + +This shining moment is an edifice +Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. + + + +Roomy Eternity +Casts her schemes rarely, +And an aeon allows +For each quality and part +Of the multitudinous +And many-chambered heart. + + + +The beggar begs by God's command, +And gifts awake when givers sleep, +Swords cannot cut the giving hand +Nor stab the love that orphans keep. + + + +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come +Lemurs and Lars. + + + +Such another peerless queen +Only could her mirror show. + + + +Easy to match what others do, +Perform the feat as well as they; +Hard to out-do the brave, the true, +And find a loftier way: +The school decays, the learning spoils +Because of the sons of wine; +How snatch the stripling from their toils?-- +Yet can one ray of truth divine +The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine. + + + +Of all wit's uses the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +The tongue is prone to lose the way, + Not so the pen, for in a letter +We have not better things to say, + But surely say them better. + + + +She walked in flowers around my field +As June herself around the sphere. + + + +Friends to me are frozen wine; +I wait the sun on them should shine. + + + +You shall not love me for what daily spends; +You shall not know me in the noisy street, +Where I, as others, follow petty ends; +Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; +Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean. +But love me then and only, when you know +Me for the channel of the rivers of God +From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow. + + + +To and fro the Genius flies, + A light which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head +And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. +Of her faults I take no note, + Fault and folly are not mine; +Comes the Genius,--all's forgot, +Replunged again into that upper sphere +He scatters wide and wild its lustres here. + + + +Love +Asks nought his brother cannot give; +Asks nothing, but does all receive. +Love calls not to his aid events; +He to his wants can well suffice: +Asks not of others soft consents, +Nor kind occasion without eyes; +Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, +Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,-- +Where he goes, goes before him Fate; +Whom he uniteth, God installs; +Instant and perfect his access +To the dear object of his thought, +Though foes and land and seas between +Himself and his love intervene. + + + +The brave Empedocles, defying fools, +Pronounced the word that mortals hate to hear-- +"I am divine, I am not mortal made; +I am superior to my human weeds." +Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; +Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; +That human part may be described and taught, +The other portion language cannot speak. + + + +Tell men what they knew before; +Paint the prospect from their door. + + + +Him strong Genius urged to roam, +Stronger Custom brought him home. + + + +That each should in his house abide. +Therefore was the world so wide. + + + +Thou shalt make thy house +The temple of a nation's vows. +Spirits of a higher strain +Who sought thee once shall seek again. +I detected many a god +Forth already on the road, +Ancestors of beauty come +In thy breast to make a home. + + + +The archangel Hope +Looks to the azure cope, +Waits through dark ages for the morn, +Defeated day by day, but unto victory born. + +As the drop feeds its fated flower, +As finds its Alp the snowy shower, +Child of the omnific Need, +Hurled into life to do a deed, +Man drinks the water, drinks the light. + + + +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, +To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. + + + +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; +I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. + + + +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken +Shall his own sorrow seem impertinent, +A thing that takes no more root in the world +Than doth the traveller's shadow on the rock. + + + +But if thou do thy best, +Without remission, without rest, +And invite the sunbeam, +And abhor to feign or seem +Even to those who thee should love +And thy behavior approve; +If thou go in thine own likeness, +Be it health, or be it sickness; +If thou go as thy father's son, +If thou wear no mask or lie, +Dealing purely and nakedly,-- + + * * * + + + +Ascending thorough just degrees +To a consummate holiness, +As angel blind to trespass done, +And bleaching all souls like the sun. + + + +From the stores of eldest matter, +The deep-eyed flame, obedient water, +Transparent air, all-feeding earth, +He took the flower of all their worth, +And, best with best in sweet consent, +Combined a new temperament. + + + +REX + +The bard and mystic held me for their own, +I filled the dream of sad, poetic maids, +I took the friendly noble by the hand, +I was the trustee of the hand-cart man, +The brother of the fisher, porter, swain, +And these from the crowd's edge well pleased beheld +The service done to me as done to them. + + + +With the key of the secret he marches faster, + From strength to strength, and for night brings day; +While classes or tribes, too weak to master + The flowing conditions of life, give way. + + + +SUUM CUIQUE + +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. + + + +If curses be the wage of love, +Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, + Not to be named: + It is clear + Why the gods will not appear; + They are ashamed. + + + +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, +And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. + + + +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, + Sit still and Truth is near: +Suddenly it will uplift + Your eyelids to the sphere: +Wait a little, you shall see +The portraiture of things to be. + + + +The rules to men made evident +By Him who built the day, +The columns of the firmament +Not firmer based than they. + + + +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! +Time hath his work to do and we have ours. + + + +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + +In many forms we try +To utter God's infinity, +But the boundless hath no form, +And the Universal Friend +Doth as far transcend +An angel as a worm. + +The great Idea baffles wit, +Language falters under it, +It leaves the learned in the lurch; +Nor art, nor power, nor toil can find +The measure of the eternal Mind, +Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. + + + +GRACE + +How much, preventing God, how much I owe +To the defences thou hast round me set; +Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,-- +These scorned bondmen were my parapet. +I dare not peep over this parapet +To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, +The depths of sin to which I had descended, +Had not these me against myself defended. + + + +INSIGHT + +Power that by obedience grows, +Knowledge which its source not knows, +Wave which severs whom it bears +From the things which he compares, +Adding wings through things to range, +To his own blood harsh and strange. + + + +PAN + +O what are heroes, prophets, men, +But pipes through which the breath of Pan doth blow +A momentary music. Being's tide +Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms +Live, robed with beauty, painted by the sun; +Their dust, pervaded by the nerves of God, +Throbs with an overmastering energy +Knowing and doing. Ebbs the tide, they lie +White hollow shells upon the desert shore, +But not the less the eternal wave rolls on +To animate new millions, and exhale +Races and planets, its enchanted foam. + + + +MONADNOC FROM AFAR + +Dark flower of Cheshire garden, + Red evening duly dyes +Thy sombre head with rosy hues + To fix far-gazing eyes. +Well the Planter knew how strongly + Works thy form on human thought; +I muse what secret purpose had he + To draw all fancies to this spot. + + + +SEPTEMBER + +In the turbulent beauty + Of a gusty Autumn day, +Poet on a sunny headland + Sighed his soul away. + +Farms the sunny landscape dappled, + Swandown clouds dappled the farms, +Cattle lowed in mellow distance + Where far oaks outstretched their arms. + +Sudden gusts came full of meaning, + All too much to him they said, +Oh, south winds have long memories, + Of that be none afraid. + +I cannot tell rude listeners + Half the tell-tale South-wind said,-- +'T would bring the blushes of yon maples + To a man and to a maid. + + + +EROS + +They put their finger on their lip, + The Powers above: + The seas their islands clip, + The moons in ocean dip, +They love, but name not love. + + + +OCTOBER + + October woods wherein +The boy's dream comes to pass, +And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, +And crowns him with a more than royal crown, +And unimagined splendor waits his steps. +The gazing urchin walks through tents of gold, +Through crimson chambers, porphyry and pearl, +Pavilion on pavilion, garlanded, +Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, +Color and sound, music to eye and ear, +Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. + + + +PETER'S FIELD + +[Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, +What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn?] + +That field by spirits bad and good, + By Hell and Heaven is haunted, +And every rood in the hemlock wood + I know is ground enchanted. + +[In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts: +I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts.] + +For in those lonely grounds the sun + Shines not as on the town, +In nearer arcs his journeys run, + And nearer stoops the moon. + +There in a moment I have seen + The buried Past arise; +The fields of Thessaly grew green, + Old gods forsook the skies. + +I cannot publish in my rhyme + What pranks the greenwood played; +It was the Carnival of time, + And Ages went or stayed. + +To me that spectral nook appeared + The mustering Day of Doom, +And round me swarmed in shadowy troop + Things past and things to come. + +The darkness haunteth me elsewhere; + There I am full of light; +In every whispering leaf I hear + More sense than sages write. + +Underwoods were full of pleasance, + All to each in kindness bend, +And every flower made obeisance + As a man unto his friend. + +Far seen, the river glides below, + Tossing one sparkle to the eyes: +I catch thy meaning, wizard wave; + The River of my Life replies. + + + +MUSIC + +Let me go where'er I will, +I hear a sky-born music still: +It sounds from all things old, +It sounds from all things young, +From all that's fair, from all that's foul, +Peals out a cheerful song. + +It is not only in the rose, +It is not only in the bird, +Not only where the rainbow glows, +Nor in the song of woman heard, +But in the darkest, meanest things +There alway, alway something sings. + +'T is not in the high stars alone, +Nor in the cup of budding flowers, +Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, +Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, +But in the mud and scum of things +There alway, alway something sings. + + + +THE WALK + +A Queen rejoices in her peers, +And wary Nature knows her own +By court and city, dale and down, +And like a lover volunteers, +And to her son will treasures more +And more to purpose freely pour +In one wood walk, than learned men +Can find with glass in ten times ten. + + + +COSMOS + +Who saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, +Or who can date the morning. + The purple flaming of love? + +I saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, +And I can date the morning prime + And purple flame of love. + +Song breathed from all the forest, + The total air was fame; +It seemed the world was all torches + That suddenly caught the flame. + + * * * + +Is there never a retroscope mirror + In the realms and corners of space +That can give us a glimpse of the battle + And the soldiers face to face? + +Sit here on the basalt courses + Where twisted hills betray +The seat of the world-old Forces + Who wrestled here on a day. + + * * * + +When the purple flame shoots up, + And Love ascends his throne, +I cannot hear your songs, O birds, + For the witchery of my own. + +And every human heart + Still keeps that golden day +And rings the bells of jubilee + On its own First of May. + + + +THE MIRACLE + +I have trod this path a hundred times +With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. +I know each nest and web-worm's tent, +The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, +Maple and oak, the old Divan +Self-planted twice, like the banian. +I know not why I came again +Unless to learn it ten times ten. +To read the sense the woods impart +You must bring the throbbing heart. +Love is aye the counterforce,-- +Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, +Newest knowledge, fiery thought, +Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. + Wandering yester morn the brake, +I reached this heath beside the lake, +And oh, the wonder of the power, +The deeper secret of the hour! +Nature, the supplement of man, +His hidden sense interpret can;-- +What friend to friend cannot convey +Shall the dumb bird instructed say. +Passing yonder oak, I heard +Sharp accents of my woodland bird; +I watched the singer with delight,-- +But mark what changed my joy to fright,-- +When that bird sang, I gave the theme; +That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, +A brown wren was the Daniel +That pierced my trance its drift to tell, +Knew my quarrel, how and why, +Published it to lake and sky, +Told every word and syllable +In his flippant chirping babble, +All my wrath and all my shames, +Nay, God is witness, gave the names. + + + +THE WATERFALL + +A patch of meadow upland + Reached by a mile of road, +Soothed by the voice of waters, + With birds and flowers bestowed. + +Hither I come for strength + Which well it can supply, +For Love draws might from terrene force + And potencies of sky. + +The tremulous battery Earth + Responds to the touch of man; +It thrills to the antipodes, + From Boston to Japan. + +The planets' child the planet knows + And to his joy replies; +To the lark's trill unfolds the rose, + Clouds flush their gayest dyes. + +When Ali prayed and loved + Where Syrian waters roll, +Upward the ninth heaven thrilled and moved; + At the tread of the jubilant soul. + + + +WALDEN + +In my garden three ways meet, + Thrice the spot is blest; +Hermit-thrush comes there to build, + Carrier-doves to nest. + +There broad-armed oaks, the copses' maze, + The cold sea-wind detain; +Here sultry Summer overstays + When Autumn chills the plain. + +Self-sown my stately garden grows; + The winds and wind-blown seed, +Cold April rain and colder snows + My hedges plant and feed. + +From mountains far and valleys near + The harvests sown to-day +Thrive in all weathers without fear,-- + Wild planters, plant away! + +In cities high the careful crowds + Of woe-worn mortals darkling go, +But in these sunny solitudes + My quiet roses blow. + +Methought the sky looked scornful down + On all was base in man, +And airy tongues did taunt the town, + 'Achieve our peace who can!' + +What need I holier dew + Than Walden's haunted wave, +Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, + Steeped in each forest cave? + +[If Thought unlock her mysteries, + If Friendship on me smile, +I walk in marble galleries, + I talk with kings the while.] + +How drearily in College hall + The Doctor stretched the hours, +But in each pause we heard the call + Of robins out of doors. + +The air is wise, the wind thinks well, + And all through which it blows, +If plants or brain, if egg or shell, + Or bird or biped knows; + +And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed, + I heed how wears the day; +We must not halt while fiercely speed + The spans of life away. + +What boots it here of Thebes or Rome + Or lands of Eastern day? +In forests I am still at home + And there I cannot stray. + + + +THE ENCHANTER + +In the deep heart of man a poet dwells +Who all the day of life his summer story tells; +Scatters on every eye dust of his spells, +Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells +Wins the believing child with wondrous tales; +Touches a cheek with colors of romance, +And crowds a history into a glance; +Gives beauty to the lake and fountain, +Spies oversea the fires of the mountain; +When thrushes ope their throat, 't is he that sings, +And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings. +The little Shakspeare in the maiden's heart +Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart; +Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed +And gives persuasion to a gentle deed. + + + +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + +Six thankful weeks,--and let it be +A meter of prosperity,-- +In my coat I bore this book, +And seldom therein could I look, +For I had too much to think, +Heaven and earth to eat and drink. +Is he hapless who can spare +In his plenty things so rare? + + + +RICHES + +Have ye seen the caterpillar + Foully warking in his nest? +'T is the poor man getting siller, + Without cleanness, without rest. + +Have ye seen the butterfly + In braw claithing drest? +'T is the poor man gotten rich, + In rings and painted vest. + +The poor man crawls in web of rags + And sore bested with woes. +But when he flees on riches' wings, + He laugheth at his foes. + + + +PHILOSOPHER + +Philosophers are lined with eyes within, +And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. +In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; +Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, +He feels it, introverts his learned eye +To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + +His mother died,--the only friend he had,-- +Some tears escaped, but his philosophy +Couched like a cat sat watching close behind +And throttled all his passion. Is't not like +That devil-spider that devours her mate +Scarce freed from her embraces? + + + +INTELLECT + +Gravely it broods apart on joy, +And, truth to tell, amused by pain. + + + +LIMITS + +Who knows this or that? +Hark in the wall to the rat: +Since the world was, he has gnawed; +Of his wisdom, of his fraud +What dost thou know? +In the wretched little beast +Is life and heart, +Child and parent, +Not without relation +To fruitful field and sun and moon. +What art thou? His wicked eye +Is cruel to thy cruelty. + + + +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; +So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. + + + +THE EXILE + +(AFTER TALIESSIN) + +The heavy blue chain +Of the boundless main +Didst thou, just man, endure. + + + +I have an arrow that will find its mark, +A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + + * * * * * + + + + + +VI + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +1823-1834 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BELL + +I love thy music, mellow bell, + I love thine iron chime, +To life or death, to heaven or hell, + Which calls the sons of Time. + +Thy voice upon the deep + The home-bound sea-boy hails, +It charms his cares to sleep, + It cheers him as he sails. + +To house of God and heavenly joys + Thy summons called our sires, +And good men thought thy sacred voice + Disarmed the thunder's fires. + +And soon thy music, sad death-bell, + Shall lift its notes once more, +And mix my requiem with the wind + That sweeps my native shore. + +1823. + + + +THOUGHT + +I am not poor, but I am proud, + Of one inalienable right, +Above the envy of the crowd,-- + Thought's holy light. + +Better it is than gems or gold, + And oh! it cannot die, +But thought will glow when the sun grows cold, + And mix with Deity. + +BOSTON, 1823. + + + +PRAYER + +When success exalts thy lot, +God for thy virtue lays a plot: +And all thy life is for thy own, +Then for mankind's instruction shown; +And though thy knees were never bent, +To Heaven thy hourly prayers are sent, +And whether formed for good or ill, +Are registered and answered still. + +1826 [?]. + + + +I bear in youth the sad infirmities +That use to undo the limb and sense of age; +It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss +Which lit my onward way with bright presage, +And my unserviceable limbs forego. +The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, +On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, +And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. +Yet I think on them in the silent night, +Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, +And the firm soul does the pale train defy +Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. +Please God, I'll wrap me in mine innocence, +And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence. + +CAMBRIDGE, 1827. + + + +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly +Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, +God hath a select family of sons +Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone, +Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one +By constant service to, that inward law, +Is weaving the sublime proportions +Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, +The riches of a spotless memory, +The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got +By searching of a clear and loving eye +That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, +And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day +To seal the marriage of these minds with thine, +Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be +The salt of all the elements, world of the world. + + + +TO-DAY + +I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide +The resurrection of departed pride. +Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep, +Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep-- +Late in the world,--too late perchance for fame, +Just late enough to reap abundant blame,-- +I choose a novel theme, a bold abuse +Of critic charters, an unlaurelled Muse. + +Old mouldy men and books and names and lands +Disgust my reason and defile my hands. +I had as lief respect an ancient shoe, +As love old things _for age_, and hate the new. +I spurn the Past, my mind disdains its nod, +Nor kneels in homage to so mean a God. +I laugh at those who, while they gape and gaze, +The bald antiquity of China praise. +Youth is (whatever cynic tubs pretend) +The fault that boys and nations soonest mend. + +1824. + + + +FAME + +Ah Fate, cannot a man + Be wise without a beard? +East, West, from Beer to Dan, + Say, was it never heard +That wisdom might in youth be gotten, +Or wit be ripe before 't was rotten? + +He pays too high a price + For knowledge and for fame +Who sells his sinews to be wise, + His teeth and bones to buy a name, +And crawls through life a paralytic +To earn the praise of bard and critic. + +Were it not better done, + To dine and sleep through forty years; +Be loved by few; be feared by none; + Laugh life away; have wine for tears; +And take the mortal leap undaunted, +Content that all we asked was granted? + +But Fate will not permit + The seed of gods to die, +Nor suffer sense to win from wit + Its guerdon in the sky, +Nor let us hide, whate'er our pleasure, +The world's light underneath a measure. + +Go then, sad youth, and shine; + Go, sacrifice to Fame; +Put youth, joy, health upon the shrine, + And life to fan the flame; +Being for Seeming bravely barter +And die to Fame a happy martyr. + +1824. + + + +THE SUMMONS + +A sterner errand to the silken troop +Has quenched the uneasy blush that warmed my cheek; +I am commissioned in my day of joy +To leave my woods and streams and the sweet sloth +Of prayer and song that were my dear delight, +To leave the rudeness of my woodland life, +Sweet twilight walks and midnight solitude +And kind acquaintance with the morning stars +And the glad hey-day of my household hours, +The innocent mirth which sweetens daily bread, +Railing in love to those who rail again, +By mind's industry sharpening the love of life-- +Books, Muses, Study, fireside, friends and love, +I loved ye with true love, so fare ye well! + + I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by +And the impatient years that trod on it +Taught me new lessons in the lore of life. +I've learned the sum of that sad history +All woman-born do know, that hoped-for days, +Days that come dancing on fraught with delights, +Dash our blown hopes as they limp heavily by. +But I, the bantling of a country Muse, +Abandon all those toys with speed to obey +The King whose meek ambassador I go. + +1826. + + + +THE RIVER + +And I behold once more +My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, +The same blue wonder that my infant eye +Admired, sage doubting whence the traveller came,-- +Whence brought his sunny bubbles ere he washed +The fragrant flag-roots in my father's fields, +And where thereafter in the world he went. +Look, here he is, unaltered, save that now +He hath broke his banks and flooded all the vales +With his redundant waves. +Here is the rock where, yet a simple child, +I caught with bended pin my earliest fish, +Much triumphing,--and these the fields +Over whose flowers I chased the butterfly +A blooming hunter of a fairy fine. +And hark! where overhead the ancient crows +Hold their sour conversation in the sky:-- +These are the same, but I am not the same, +But wiser than I was, and wise enough +Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost +Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb; +These trees and stones are audible to me, +These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, +I understand their faery syllables, +And all their sad significance. The wind, +That rustles down the well-known forest road-- +It hath a sound more eloquent than speech. +The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind, +All of them utter sounds of 'monishment +And grave parental love. +They are not of our race, they seem to say, +And yet have knowledge of our moral race, +And somewhat of majestic sympathy, +Something of pity for the puny clay, +That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind. +I feel as I were welcome to these trees +After long months of weary wandering, +Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs; +They know me as their son, for side by side, +They were coeval with my ancestors, +Adorned with them my country's primitive times, +And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. + +CONCORD, June, 1827. + + + +GOOD HOPE + +The cup of life is not so shallow +That we have drained the best, +That all the wine at once we swallow +And lees make all the rest. + +Maids of as soft a bloom shall marry +As Hymen yet hath blessed, +And fairer forms are in the quarry +Than Phidias released. + +1827. + + + +LINES TO ELLEN + +Tell me, maiden, dost thou use +Thyself thro' Nature to diffuse? +All the angles of the coast +Were tenanted by thy sweet ghost, +Bore thy colors every flower, +Thine each leaf and berry bore; +All wore thy badges and thy favors +In their scent or in their savors, +Every moth with painted wing, +Every bird in carolling, +The wood-boughs with thy manners waved, +The rocks uphold thy name engraved, +The sod throbbed friendly to my feet, +And the sweet air with thee was sweet. +The saffron cloud that floated warm +Studied thy motion, took thy form, +And in his airy road benign +Recalled thy skill in bold design, +Or seemed to use his privilege +To gaze o'er the horizon's edge, +To search where now thy beauty glowed, +Or made what other purlieus proud. + +1829. + + + +SECURITY + +Though her eye seek other forms +And a glad delight below, +Yet the love the world that warms +Bids for me her bosom glow. + +She must love me till she find +Another heart as large and true. +Her soul is frank as the ocean wind, +And the world has only two. + +If Nature hold another heart +That knows a purer flame than me, +I too therein could challenge part +And learn of love a new degree. + +1829. + + + +A dull uncertain brain, +But gifted yet to know +That God has cherubim who go +Singing an immortal strain, +Immortal here below. +I know the mighty bards, +I listen when they sing, +And now I know +The secret store +Which these explore +When they with torch of genius pierce +The tenfold clouds that cover +The riches of the universe +From God's adoring lover. +And if to me it is not given +To fetch one ingot thence +Of the unfading gold of Heaven +His merchants may dispense, +Yet well I know the royal mine, +And know the sparkle of its ore, +Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine-- +Explored they teach us to explore. + +1831. + + + +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + +Why fear to die +And let thy body lie +Under the flowers of June, + Thy body food + For the ground-worms' brood +And thy grave smiled on by the visiting moon. + +Amid great Nature's halls +Girt in by mountain walls +And washed with waterfalls +It would please me to die, + Where every wind that swept my tomb + Goes loaded with a free perfume +Dealt out with a God's charity. + +I should like to die in sweets, +A hill's leaves for winding-sheets, +And the searching sun to see +That I am laid with decency. +And the commissioned wind to sing +His mighty psalm from fall to spring +And annual tunes commemorate +Of Nature's child the common fate. + +WILLIAMSTOWN, VERMONT, 1 June, 1831. + + + +A LETTER + +Dear brother, would you know the life, +Please God, that I would lead? +On the first wheels that quit this weary town +Over yon western bridges I would ride +And with a cheerful benison forsake +Each street and spire and roof, incontinent. +Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, +Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm, +Amid the mountain counties, Hants, Franklin, Berks, +Where down the rock ravine a river roars, +Even from a brook, and where old woods +Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground +With their centennial wrecks. +Find me a slope where I can feel the sun +And mark the rising of the early stars. +There will I bring my books,--my household gods, +The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell +In the sweet odor of her memory. +Then in the uncouth solitude unlock +My stock of art, plant dials in the grass, +Hang in the air a bright thermometer +And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun. + +CHARDON ST., BOSTON, 1831. + + + +Day by day returns +The everlasting sun, +Replenishing material urns +With God's unspared donation; +But the day of day, +The orb within the mind, +Creating fair and good alway, +Shines not as once it shined. + + * * * + +Vast the realm of Being is, +In the waste one nook is his; +Whatsoever hap befalls +In his vision's narrow walls +He is here to testify. + +1831. + + + +HYMN + +There is in all the sons of men +A love that in the spirit dwells, +That panteth after things unseen, +And tidings of the future tells. + +And God hath built his altar here +To keep this fire of faith alive, +And sent his priests in holy fear +To speak the truth--for truth to strive. + +And hither come the pensive train +Of rich and poor, of young and old, +Of ardent youth untouched by pain, +Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold. + +They seek a friend to speak the word +Already trembling on their tongue, +To touch with prophet's hand the chord +Which God in human hearts hath strung. + +To speak the plain reproof of sin +That sounded in the soul before, +And bid you let the angels in +That knock at meek contrition's door. + +A friend to lift the curtain up +That hides from man the mortal goal, +And with glad thoughts of faith and hope +Surprise the exulting soul. + +Sole source of light and hope assured, +O touch thy servant's lips with power, +So shall he speak to us the word +Thyself dost give forever more. + +June, 1831. + + + +SELF-RELIANCE + +Henceforth, please God, forever I forego +The yoke of men's opinions. I will be +Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God. +I find him in the bottom of my heart, +I hear continually his voice therein. + + * * * + +The little needle always knows the North, +The little bird remembereth his note, +And this wise Seer within me never errs. +I never taught it what it teaches me; +I only follow, when I act aright. + +October 9, 1832. + + + +And when I am entombed in my place, +Be it remembered of a single man, +He never, though he dearly loved his race, +For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. + + + +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +Of minds that each can stand against the world +By its own meek and incorruptible will? + + + +The days pass over me +And I am still the same; +The aroma of my life is gone +With the flower with which it came. + +1833. + + + +WRITTEN IN NAPLES + +We are what we are made; each following day +Is the Creator of our human mould +Not less than was the first; the all-wise God +Gilds a few points in every several life, +And as each flower upon the fresh hillside, +And every colored petal of each flower, +Is sketched and dyed, each with a new design, +Its spot of purple, and its streak of brown, +So each man's life shall have its proper lights, +And a few joys, a few peculiar charms, +For him round in the melancholy hours +And reconcile him to the common days. +Not many men see beauty in the fogs +Of close low pine-woods in a river town; +Yet unto me not morn's magnificence, +Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve, +Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls +Of rich men blazing hospitable light, +Nor wit, nor eloquence,--no, nor even the song +Of any woman that is now alive,-- +Hath such a soul, such divine influence, +Such resurrection of the happy past, +As is to me when I behold the morn +Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath +Peep the blue violets out of the black loam, +Pathetic silent poets that sing to me +Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife. + +March, 1833. + + + +WRITTEN AT ROME + +Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;-- +Besides, you need not be alone; the soul +Shall have society of its own rank. +Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, +The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome, +Shall flock to you and tarry by your side, +And comfort you with their high company. +Virtue alone is sweet society, +It keeps the key to all heroic hearts, +And opens you a welcome in them all. +You must be like them if you desire them, +Scorn trifles and embrace a better aim +Than wine or sleep or praise; +Hunt knowledge as the lover wooes a maid, +And ever in the strife of your own thoughts +Obey the nobler impulse; that is Rome: +That shall command a senate to your side; +For there is no might in the universe +That can contend with love. It reigns forever. +Wait then, sad friend, wait in majestic peace +The hour of heaven. Generously trust +Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand +That until now has put his world in fee +To thee. He watches for thee still. His love +Broods over thee, and as God lives in heaven, +However long thou walkest solitary, +The hour of heaven shall come, the man appear. + +1833. + + + +WEBSTER + +1831 + +Let Webster's lofty face +Ever on thousands shine, +A beacon set that Freedom's race +Might gather omens from that radiant sign. + + + +FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + +1834 + +Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave +For living brows; ill fits them to receive: +And yet, if virtue abrogate the law, +One portrait--fact or fancy--we may draw; +A form which Nature cast in the heroic mould +Of them who rescued liberty of old; +He, when the rising storm of party roared, +Brought his great forehead to the council board, +There, while hot heads perplexed with fears the state, +Calm as the morn the manly patriot sate; +Seemed, when at last his clarion accents broke, +As if the conscience of the country spoke. +Not on its base Monadnoc surer stood, +Than he to common sense and common good: +No mimic; from his breast his counsel drew, +Believed the eloquent was aye the true; +He bridged the gulf from th' alway good and wise +To that within the vision of small eyes. +Self-centred; when he launched the genuine word +It shook or captivated all who heard, +Ran from his mouth to mountains and the sea, +And burned in noble hearts proverb and prophecy. + + + +1854 + +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, _For Sale_. + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +A dull uncertain brain +"A new commandment," said the smiling Muse +A patch of meadow upland +A queen rejoices in her peers +A ruddy drop of manly blood +A score of airy miles will smooth +A sterner errand to the silken troop +A subtle chain of countless rings +A train of gay and clouded days +Ah Fate, cannot a man +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +All day the waves assailed the rock +Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too +Already blushes on thy cheek +And as the light divides the dark +And Ellen, when the graybeard years +And I behold once more +And when I am entombed in my place +Announced by all the trumpets of the sky +Around the man who seeks a noble end +Ascending thorough just degrees +Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' +As sings the pine-tree in the wind +As sunbeams stream through liberal space +As the drop feeds its fated flower +Atom from atom yawns as far + +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly +Because I was content with these poor fields +Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest +Blooms the laurel which belongs +Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold +Bring me wine, but wine which never grew +Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint +Burly, dozing humble-bee +But God said +But if thou do thy best +But Nature whistled with all her winds +But never yet the man was found +But over all his crowning grace +By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave +By the rude bridge that arched the flood +By thoughts I lead + +Can rules or tutors educate +Cast the bantling on the rocks +Coin the day dawn into lines + +Dark flower of Cheshire garden +Darlings of children and of bard +Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring +Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more +Day by day returns +Day! hast thou two faces +Dear brother, would you know the life +Dearest, where thy shadow falls +Deep in the man sits fast his fate + +Each spot where tulips prank their state +Each the herald is who wrote +Easy to match what others do +Ere he was born, the stars of fate +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Ever the Rock of Ages melts +Every day brings a ship +Every thought is public + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well +Farewell, ye lofty spires +Flow, flow the waves hated +For art, for music over-thrilled +For every God +For Fancy's gift +For Genius made his cabin wide +For joy and beauty planted it +For Nature, true and like in every place +For thought, and not praise +For what need I of book or priest +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread +Freedom all winged expands +Friends to me are frozen wine +From fall to spring, the russet acorn +From high to higher forces +From the stores of eldest matter +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate + +Gifts of one who loved me +Give all to love +Give me truths +Give to barrows, trays and pans +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower +Go speed the stars of Thought +Go thou to thy learned task +Gold and iron are good +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home +Grace, Beauty and Caprice +Gravely it broods apart on joy + +Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains +Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? +Have ye seen the caterpillar +He could condense cerulean ether +He lives not who can refuse me +He planted where the deluge ploughed +He took the color of his vest +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare +He who has no hands +Hear what British Merlin sung +Henceforth, please God, forever I forego +Her passions the shy violet +Her planted eye to-day controls +High was her heart, and yet was well inclined +Him strong Genius urged to roam +His instant thought a poet spoke +His tongue was framed to music +Hold of the Maker, not the Made +How much, preventing God, how much I owe + +I, Alphonso, live and learn +I am not poor but I am proud +I am not wiser for my age +I am the Muse who sung alway +I bear in youth and sad infirmities +I cannot spare water or wine +I do not count the hours I spend +I framed his tongue to music +I grieve that better souls than mine +I have an arrow that will find its mark +I have no brothers and no peers +I have trod this path a hundred times +I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea +I hung my verses in the wind +I left my dreary page and sallied forth +I like a church; I like a cowl +I love thy music, mellow bell +I mourn upon this battle-field +I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide +I reached the middle of the mount +I said to heaven that glowed above +I see all human wits +I serve you not, if you I follow +If bright the sun, he tarries +If curses be the wage of love +If I could put my woods in song +If my darling should depart +If the red slayer think he slays +Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave +Illusions like the tints of pearl +Illusion works impenetrable +In an age of fops and toys +In countless upward-striving waves +In Farsistan the violet spreads +In many forms we try +In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes +In my garden three ways meet +In the chamber, on the stairs +In the deep heart of man a poet dwells +In the suburb, in the town +In the turbulent beauty +In Walden wood the chickadee +It fell in the ancient periods +It is time to be old + +Knows he who tills this lonely field + +Let me go where'er I will +Let Webster's lofty face +Like vaulters in a circus round +Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown +Long I followed happy guides +Love asks nought his brother cannot give +Love on his errand bound to go +Love scatters oil +Low and mournful be the strain + +Man was made of social earth +Many things the garden shows +May be true what I had heard +Mine and yours +Mine are the night and morning +Mortal mixed of middle clay + +Nature centres into balls +Never did sculptor's dream unfold +Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low +Not in their houses stand the stars + +October woods wherein +O fair and stately maid, whose eyes +O pity that I pause! +O tenderly the haughty day +O well for the fortunate soul +O what are heroes, prophets, men +Of all wit's uses the main one +Of Merlin wise I learned a song +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +On a mound an Arab lay +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers +On prince or bride no diamond stone +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave +Once I wished I might rehearse +One musician is sure +Our eyeless bark sails free +Over his head were the maple buds + +Pale genius roves alone +Parks and ponds are good by day +Philosophers are lined with eyes within +Power that by obedience grows +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + +Quit the hut, frequent the palace + +Right upward on the road of fame +Roomy Eternity +Roving, roving, as it seems +Ruby wine is drunk by knaves + +Samson stark at Dagon's knee +See yonder leafless trees against the sky +Seek not the spirit, if it hide +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants +Set not thy foot on graves +She is gamesome and good +She paints with white and red the moors +She walked in flowers around my field +Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift +Six thankful weeks,--and let it be +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue +Soft and softlier hold me, friends! +Solar insect on the wing +Some of your hurts you have cured +Space is ample, east and west +Spin the ball! I reel, I burn +Such another peerless queen +Sudden gusts came full of meaning + +Tell me, maiden, dost thou use +Tell men what they knew before +Test of the poet is knowledge of love +Thanks to the morning light +That book is good +That each should in his house abide +That you are fair or wise is vain +The April winds are magical +The archangel Hope +The Asmodean feat is mine +The atom displaces all atoms beside +The bard and mystic held me for their own +The beggar begs by God's command +The brave Empedocles, defying fools +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +The cup of life is not so shallow +The days pass over me +The debt is paid +The gale that wrecked you on the sand +The green grass is bowing +The heavy blue chain +The living Heaven thy prayers respect +The lords of life, the lords of life +The low December vault in June be lifted high +Theme no poet gladly sung +The mountain and the squirrel +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded +The patient Pan +The prosperous and beautiful +The rhyme of the poet +The rocky nook with hilltops three +The rules to men made evident +The sea is the road of the bold +The sense of the world is short +The solid, solid universe +The South-wind brings +The Sphinx is drowsy +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +The sun goes down, and with him takes +The sun set, but set not his hope +The tongue is prone to lose the way +The water understands +The wings of Time are black and white +The word of the Lord by night +The yesterday doth never smile +Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes +There are beggars in Iran and Araby +There is in all the sons of men +There is no great and no small +There is no architect +They brought me rubies from the mine +They put their finger on their lips +They say, through patience, chalk +Thine eyes still shined for me, though far +Think me not unkind and rude +This is he, who, felled by foes +This shining moment is an edifice +Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls +Thou shalt make thy house +Though her eyes seek other forms +Though loath to grieve +Though love repine and reason chafe +Thousand minstrels woke within me +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down +Thy summer voice, Musketaquit +Thy trivial harp will never please +To and fro the Genius flies +To clothe the fiery thought +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +Trees in groves +True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet +Try the might the Muse affords +Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene +Two well-assorted travellers use + +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art + +Venus, when her son was lost + +Was never form and never face +We are what we are made; each following day +We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends +We love the venerable house +Well and wisely said the Greek +What all the books of ages paint, I have +What care I, so they stand the same +What central flowing forces, say +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt +When I was born +When success exalts thy lot +When the pine tosses its cones +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port +Who gave thee, O Beauty +Who knows this or that? 375. +Who saw the hid beginnings +Who shall tell what did befall +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +Why fear to die +Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year +Why should I keep holiday +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Winters know +Wise and polite,--and if I drew +Wisp and meteor nightly falling +With beams December planets dart +With the key of the secret he marches faster +Would you know what joy is hid + +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken +You shall not be overbold +You shall not love me for what daily spends +Your picture smiles as first it smiled + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + +[The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal +divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the +subdivisions of long poems.] + +A.H. +[Greek: Adakryn nemontai Aiona] +Adirondacs, The +Alcuin, From +Ali Ben Abu Taleb, From +Alphonso of Castile +Amulet, The +Apology, The +April +Art +Artist +Astraea + +Bacchus +Beauty +Bell, The +Berrying +Birds +Blight +Boéce, Étienne de la +Bohemian Hymn, The +Borrowing +Boston +Boston Hymn, read in Music Hall, January 1, 1863 +Botanist +Brahma + +Caritas +Casella +Celestial Love, The +Channing, W.H., Ode inscribed to +Character +Chartist's Complaint, The +Circles +Climacteric +Compensation +Concord Hymn +Concord, Ode Sung in the Town Hall, July 4, 1857 +Cosmos +Culture +Cupido + +Daemonic Love, The +Day's Ration, The +Days +Destiny +Dirge + +Each and All +Earth, The +Earth-Song +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES +Ellen, To +Ellen, Lines to +Enchanter, The +Epitaph +Eros +Eva, To +Excelsior +Exile, The +Experience + +Fable +Fame +Fate +Flute, The +Forbearance +Forerunners +Forester +Fragments on Nature and Life +Fragments on the Poet and the Poetic Gift +Freedom +Friendship + +Garden, The +Garden, My +Gardener +Gifts +Give all to Love +Good-bye +Good Hope +Grace +Guy + +Hafiz +Hafiz, From +Hamatreya +Harp, The +Heavens, The +Heri, Cras, Hodie +Hermione +Heroism +Holidays +Horoscope +House, The +Humble-Bee, The +Hush! +Hymn +Hymn sung at the Second Church, Boston, at the Ordination of + Rev. Chandler Robbins + +Ibn Jemin, From +Illusions +Informing Spirit, The +In Memoriam +Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love +Initial Love, The +Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War +Insight +Intellect + +J.W., To + +Last Farewell, The +Letter, A +Letters +Life +Limits +Lines by Ellen Louise Tucker +Lines to Ellen +Love +Love and Thought + +Maia +Maiden Speech of the Aeolian Harp +Manners +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES +May-Day +Memory +Merlin +Merlin's Song +Merops +Miracle, The +Mithridates +Monadnoc +Monadnoc from afar +Mountain Grave, A +Music +Musketaquid +My Garden + +Nahant +Nature +Nature in Leasts +Nemesis +Night in June +Northman +Nun's Aspiration, The + +October +Ode, inscribed to W.H. Channing +Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857 +Ode to Beauty +Omar Khayyam, From +Orator + +Pan +Park, The +Past, The +Pericles +Peter's Field +Phi Beta Kappa Poem, From the +Philosopher +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD +Poet +Poet, The +Politics +Power +Prayer +Problem, The +Promise +Prudence + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +Rex +Rhea, To +Rhodora, The +Riches +River, The +Romany Girl, The +Rubies + +S.H. +Saadi +Sacrifice +Seashore +Security +September +Shah, To the +Shakspeare +Snow-Storm, The +Solution +Song of Nature +Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan +Sonnet of Michel Angelo Buonarotti +Sphinx, The +Spiritual Laws +Summons, The +Sunrise +Sursum Corda +"Suum Cuique" + +Terminus +Test, The +Thine Eyes still Shined +Thought +Threnody +Titmouse, The +To-Day +To Ellen at the South +To Ellen +To Eva +To J.W. +To Rhea +To the Shah +Transition +Translations +Two Rivers + +Una +Unity +Uriel + +Violet, The +Visit, The +Voluntaries + +Waldeinsamkeit +Walden +Walk, The +Water +Waterfall, The +Wealth +Webster +Woodnotes +World-Soul, The +Worship +Written at Rome, 1883 +Written in a Volume of Goethe +Written in Naples, March, 1883 + +Xenophanes + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 *** diff --git a/12843-h/12843-h.htm b/12843-h/12843-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cfa78c --- /dev/null +++ b/12843-h/12843-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14983 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; 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margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 20%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 ***</div> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + POEMS + </h1> + <h2> + By Ralph Waldo Emerson + </h2> + <h3> + <i>HOUSEHOLD EDITION</i> + </h3> + <h3> + 1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + </h3> + <hr /> + <hr /> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I — <b>POEMS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> GOOD-BYE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> EACH AND ALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE PROBLEM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> TO RHEA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE VISIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> URIEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE WORLD-SOUL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE SPHINX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ALPHONSO OF CASTILE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MITHRIDATES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> TO J.W. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> DESTINY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> GUY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> HAMATREYA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> THE RHODORA: </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> THE HUMBLE-BEE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> BERRYING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> THE SNOW-STORM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> WOODNOTES I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> WOODNOTES II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> MONADNOC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> FABLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> ODE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> ASTRAEA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> FORBEARANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> THE PARK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> FORERUNNERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> SURSUM CORDA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> ODE TO BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> GIVE ALL TO LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> TO ELLEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> TO EVA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> LINES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> THE VIOLET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> THE AMULET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> THINE EYES STILL SHINED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> EROS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> HERMIONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> THE APOLOGY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> MERLIN I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> MERLIN II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> BACCHUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> MEROPS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> THE HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> SAADI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> HOLIDAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> XENOPHANES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> THE DAY'S RATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> BLIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> MUSKETAQUID </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> DIRGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> THRENODY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> CONCORD HYMN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> II — <b>MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> MAY-DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> THE ADIRONDACS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> BRAHMA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> NEMESIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> FATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> FREEDOM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> ODE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> BOSTON HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> VOLUNTARIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> LOVE AND THOUGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> UNA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> BOSTON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> LETTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> RUBIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> MERLIN'S SONG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> THE TEST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> SOLUTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> NATURE I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> NATURE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> THE ROMANY GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> DAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> MY GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> THE TITMOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> THE HARP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> SEASHORE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> SONG OF NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> TWO RIVERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> WALDEINSAMKEIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> TERMINUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> THE NUN'S ASPIRATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> APRIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> CUPIDO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> THE PAST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> THE LAST FAREWELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0100"> IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0101"> III — <b>ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0102"> EXPERIENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0103"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0104"> POLITICS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0105"> HEROISM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0106"> CHARACTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0107"> CULTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0108"> FRIENDSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0109"> SPIRITUAL LAWS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0110"> BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0111"> MANNERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0112"> ART </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0113"> UNITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0114"> WORSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0115"> PRUDENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0116"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0117"> THE INFORMING SPIRIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0118"> CIRCLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0119"> INTELLECT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0120"> GIFTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0121"> PROMISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0122"> CARITAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0123"> POWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0124"> WEALTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0125"> ILLUSIONS </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0126"> IV — <b>QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0127"> QUATRAINS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0128"> HUSH! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0129"> ORATOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0130"> ARTIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0131"> POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0132"> POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0133"> BOTANIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0134"> GARDENER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0135"> FORESTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0136"> NORTHMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0137"> FROM ALCUIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0138"> EXCELSIOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0139"> BORROWING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0140"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0141"> FATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0142"> HOROSCOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0143"> POWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0144"> CLIMACTERIC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0145"> HERI, CRAS, HODIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0146"> MEMORY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0147"> LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0148"> SACRIFICE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0149"> PERICLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0150"> CASELLA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0151"> SHAKSPEARE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0152"> HAFIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0153"> NATURE IN LEASTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0154"> TRANSLATIONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0155"> SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0156"> THE EXILE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0157"> FROM HAFIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0158"> EPITAPH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0159"> FRIENDSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0160"> FROM OMAR KHAYYAM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0161"> FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0162"> FROM IBN JEMIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0163"> THE FLUTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0164"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0165"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0166"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0167"> SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0168"> V — <b>APPENDIX</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0169"> THE POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0170"> FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0171"> FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0172"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0173"> THE EARTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0174"> THE HEAVENS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0175"> TRANSITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0176"> THE GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0177"> BIRDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0178"> WATER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0179"> NAHANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0180"> SUNRISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0181"> NIGHT IN JUNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0182"> MAIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0183"> LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0184"> REX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0185"> SUUM CUIQUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0186"> THE BOHEMIAN HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0187"> GRACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0188"> INSIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0189"> PAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0190"> MONADNOC FROM AFAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0191"> SEPTEMBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0192"> EROS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0193"> OCTOBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0194"> PETER'S FIELD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0195"> MUSIC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0196"> THE WALK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0197"> COSMOS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0198"> THE MIRACLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0199"> THE WATERFALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0200"> WALDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0201"> THE ENCHANTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0202"> WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0203"> RICHES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0204"> PHILOSOPHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0205"> INTELLECT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0206"> LIMITS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0207"> INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS + OF THE WAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0208"> THE EXILE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0209"> VI — <b>POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0210"> THE BELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0211"> THOUGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0212"> PRAYER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0213"> TO-DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0214"> FAME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0215"> THE SUMMONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0216"> THE RIVER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0217"> GOOD HOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0218"> LINES TO ELLEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0219"> SECURITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0220"> A MOUNTAIN GRAVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0221"> A LETTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0222"> HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0223"> SELF-RELIANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0224"> WRITTEN IN NAPLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0225"> WRITTEN AT ROME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0226"> WEBSTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0227"> FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0228"> <b>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0229"> <b>INDEX OF TITLES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, + published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:— + </p> + <p> + "This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS and + MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876, Mr. Emerson published a selection + from his Poems, adding six new ones and omitting many[1] of those + omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the expressed wishes + of many readers and lovers of them. Also some pieces never before + published are here given in an Appendix; on various grounds. Some of them + appear to have had Mr. Emerson's approval, but to have been withheld + because they were unfinished. These it seemed best not to suppress, now + that they can never receive their completion. Others, mostly of an early + date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of their personal and + private nature. Some of these seem to have an autobiographic interest + sufficient to justify their publication. Others again, often mere + fragments, have been admitted as characteristic, or as expressing in + poetic form thoughts found in the Essays. + </p> + + <pre> + [1]: Little Classic Edition. + </pre> + + <p> + "In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole, + preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the + opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of Time. + </p> + <p> + "As was stated in the preface to the first volume of this edition of Mr. + Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the Selected Poems have + not always been followed here, but in some cases preference has been given + to corrections made by him when he was in fuller strength than at the time + of the last revision. + </p> + <p> + "A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of 'May-Day,' in the part + representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as bringing + them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + </p> + <p> + In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the <i>Poems</i>, Mr. Cabot + very considerately took the present editor into counsel (as representing + Mr. Emerson's family), who at that time in turn took counsel with several + persons of taste and mature judgment with regard especially to the + admission of poems hitherto unpublished and of fragments that seemed + interested and pleasing. Mr. Cabot and he were entirely in accord with + regard to the Riverside Edition. In the present edition, the substance of + the Riverside Edition has been preserved, with hardly an exception, + although some poems and fragments have been added. None of the poems + therein printed have been omitted. "The House," which appeared in the + first volume of <i>Poems</i>, and "Nemesis," "Una," "Love and Thought" and + "Merlin's Songs," from the <i>May-Day</i> volume, have been restored. To + the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. Emerson printed as "Elements" in + <i>May-Day</i>, most of the others have been added. Following Mr. + Emerson's precedent of giving his brother Edward's "Last Farewell" a place + beside the poem in his memory, two pleasing poems by Ellen Tucker, his + first wife, which he published in the <i>Dial</i>, have been placed with + his own poems relating to her. The publication in the last edition of some + poems that Mr. Emerson had long kept by him, but had never quite been + ready to print, and of various fragments on Poetry, Nature and Life, was + not done without advice and careful consideration, and then was felt to be + perhaps a rash experiment. The continued interest which has been shown in + the author's thought and methods and life—for these unfinished + pieces contain much autobiography—has made the present editor feel + it justifiable to keep almost all of these and to add a few. Their order + has been slightly altered. + </p> + <p> + A few poems from the verse-books sufficiently complete to have a title are + printed in the Appendix for the first time: "Insight," "September," + "October," "Hymn" and "Riches." + </p> + <p> + After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, and + printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of them + taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never printed + before. They are for the most part journals in verse covering the period + of his school-teaching, study for the ministry and exercise of that + office, his sickness, bereavement, travel abroad and return to the new + life. This sad period of probation is illuminated by the episode of his + first love. Not for their poetical merit, except in flashes, but for the + light they throw on the growth of his thought and character are they + included. + </p> + <p> + In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued + with regard to his own poems. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. +</pre> + <h3> + EDWARD W. EMERSON. + </h3> + <p> + March 12, 1904. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + </h2> + <p> + The Emersons first appeared in the north of England, but Thomas, who + landed in Massachusetts in 1638, came from Hertfordshire. He built soon + after a house, sometimes railed the Saint's Rest, which still stands in + Ipswich on the slope of Heart-break Hill, close by Labour-in-vain Creek. + Ralph Waldo Emerson was the sixth in descent from him. He was born in + Boston, in Summer Street, May 25, 1803. He was the third son of William + Emerson, the minister of the First Church in Boston, whose father, William + Emerson, had been the patriotic minister of Concord at the outbreak of the + Revolution, and died a chaplain in the army. Ruth Haskins, the mother of + Ralph Waldo Emerson, was left a widow in 1811, with a family of five + little boys. The taste of these boys was scholarly, and four of them went + through the Latin School to Harvard College, and graduated there. Their + mother was a person of great sweetness, dignity, and piety, bringing up + her sons wisely and well in very straitened circumstances, and loved by + them. Her husband's stepfather, Rev. Dr. Ripley of Concord, helped her, + and constantly invited the boys to the Old Manse, so that the woods and + fields along the Concord River were first a playground and then the + background of the dreams of their awakening imaginations. + </p> + <p> + Born in the city, Emerson's young mind first found delight in poems and + classic prose, to which his instincts led him as naturally as another + boy's would to go fishing, but his vacations in the country supplemented + these by giving him great and increasing love of nature. In his early + poems classic imagery is woven into pictures of New England woodlands. + Even as a little boy he had the habit of attempting flights of verse, + stimulated by Milton, Pope, or Scott, and he and his mates took pleasure + in declaiming to each other in barns and attics. He was so full of + thoughts and fancies that he sought the pen instinctively, to jot them + down. + </p> + <p> + At college Emerson did not shine as a scholar, though he won prizes for + essays and declamations, being especially unfitted for mathematical + studies, and enjoying the classics rather in a literary than grammatical + way. And yet it is doubtful whether any man in his class used his time to + better purpose with reference to his after life, for young Emerson's + instinct led him to wide reading of works, outside the curriculum, that + spoke directly to him. He had already formed the habit of writing in a + journal, not the facts but the thoughts and inspirations of the day; + often, also, good stories or poetical quotations, and scraps of his own + verse. + </p> + <p> + On graduation from Harvard in the class of 1821, following the traditions + of his family, Emerson resolved to study to be a minister, and meantime + helped his older brother William in the support of the family by teaching + in a school for young ladies in Boston, that the former had successfully + established. The principal was twenty-one and the assistant nineteen years + of age. For school-teaching on the usual lines Emerson was not fitted, and + his youth and shyness prevented him from imparting his best gifts to his + scholars. Years later, when, in his age, his old scholars assembled to + greet him, he regretted that no hint had been brought into the school of + what at that very time "I was writing every night in my chamber, my first + thoughts on morals and the beautiful laws of compensation, and of + individual genius, which to observe and illustrate have given sweetness to + many years of my life." Yet many scholars remembered his presence and + teaching with pleasure and gratitude, not only in Boston, but in + Chelmsford and Roxbury, for while his younger brothers were in college it + was necessary that he should help. In these years, as through all his + youth, he was loved, spurred on in his intellectual life, and keenly + criticised by his aunt, Mary Moody Emerson, an eager and wide reader, + inspired by religious zeal, high-minded, but eccentric. + </p> + <p> + The health of the young teacher suffered from too ascetic a life, and + unmistakable danger-signals began to appear, fortunately heeded in time, + but disappointment and delay resulted, borne, however, with sense and + courage. His course at the Divinity School in Cambridge was much broken; + nevertheless, in October, 1826, he was "approbated to preach" by the + Middlesex Association of Ministers. A winter at the North at this time + threatened to prove fatal, so he was sent South by his helpful kinsman, + Rev. Samuel Ripley, and passed the winter in Florida with benefit, working + northward in the spring, preaching in the cities, and resumed his studies + at Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + In 1829, Emerson was called by the Second or Old North Church in Boston to + become the associate pastor with Rev. Henry Ware, and soon after, because + of his senior's delicate health, was called on to assume the full duty. + Theological dogmas, such as the Unitarian Church of Channing's day + accepted, did not appeal to Emerson, nor did the supernatural in religion + in its ordinary acceptation interest him. The omnipresence of spirit, the + dignity of man, the daily miracle of the universe, were what he taught, + and while the older members of the congregation may have been disquieted + that he did not dwell on revealed religion, his words reached the young + people, stirred thought, and awakened aspiration. At this time he lived + with his mother and his young wife (Ellen Tucker) in Chardon Street. For + three years he ministered to his people in Boston. Then having felt the + shock of being obliged to conform to church usage, as stated prayer when + the spirit did not move, and especially the administration of the + Communion, he honestly laid his troubles before his people, and proposed + to them some modification of this rite. While they considered his + proposition, Emerson went into the White Mountains to weigh his + conflicting duties to his church and conscience. He came down, bravely to + meet the refusal of the church to change the rite, and in a sermon + preached in September, 1832, explained his objections to it, and, because + he could not honestly administer it, resigned. + </p> + <p> + He parted from his people in all kindness, but the wrench was felt. His + wife had recently died, he was ill himself, his life seemed to others + broken up. But meantime voices from far away had reached him. He sailed + for Europe, landed in Italy, saw cities, and art, and men, but would not + stay long. Of the dead, Michael Angelo appealed chiefly to him there; + Landor among the living. He soon passed northward, making little stay in + Paris, but sought out Carlyle, then hardly recognized, and living in the + lonely hills of the Scottish Border. There began a friendship which had + great influence on the lives of both men, and lasted through life. He also + visited Wordsworth. But the new life before him called him home. + </p> + <p> + He landed at Boston within the year in good health and hope, and joined + his mother and youngest brother Charles in Newton. Frequent invitations to + preach still came, and were accepted, and he even was sounded as to + succeeding Dr. Dewey in the church at New Bedford; but, as he stipulated + for freedom from ceremonial, this came to nothing. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn of 1834 he moved to Concord, living with his kinsman, Dr. + Ripley, at the Manse, but soon bought house and land on the Boston Road, + on the edge of the village towards Walden woods. Thither, in the autumn, + he brought his wife. Miss Lidian Jackson, of Plymouth, and this was their + home during the rest of their lives. + </p> + <p> + The new life to which he had been called opened pleasantly and increased + in happiness and opportunity, except for the sadness of bereavements, for, + in the first few years, his brilliant brothers Edward and Charles died, + and soon afterward Waldo, his firstborn son, and later his mother. Emerson + had left traditional religion, the city, the Old World, behind, and now + went to Nature as his teacher, his inspiration. His first book, "Nature," + which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here, and published + in 1836. His practice during all his life in Concord was to go alone to + the woods almost daily, sometimes to wait there for hours, and, when thus + attuned, to receive the message to which he was to give voice. Though it + might be colored by him in transmission, he held that the light was + universal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ever the words of the Gods resound, + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear." +</pre> + <p> + But he resorted, also, to the books of those who had handed down the + oracles truly, and was quick to find the message destined for him. Men, + too, he studied eagerly, the humblest and the highest, regretting always + that the brand of the scholar on him often silenced the men of shop and + office where he came. He was everywhere a learner, expecting light from + the youngest and least educated visitor. The thoughts combined with the + flower of his reading were gradually grouped into lectures, and his main + occupation through life was reading these to who would hear, at first in + courses in Boston, but later all over the country, for the Lyceum sprang + up in New England in these years in every town, and spread westward to the + new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. His winters were spent in + these rough, but to him interesting journeys, for he loved to watch the + growth of the Republic in which he had faith, and his summers were spent + in study and writing. These lectures were later severely pruned and + revised, and the best of them gathered into seven volumes of essays under + different names between 1841 and 1876. The courses in Boston, which at + first were given in the Masonic Temple, were always well attended by + earnest and thoughtful people. The young, whether in years or in spirit, + were always and to the end his audience of the spoken or written word. The + freedom of the Lyceum platform pleased Emerson. He found that people would + hear on Wednesday with approval and unsuspectingly doctrines from which on + Sunday they felt officially obliged to dissent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lowell, in his essays, has spoken of these early lectures and what + they were worth to him and others suffering from the generous discontent + of youth with things as they were. Emerson used to say, "My strength and + my doom is to be solitary;" but to a retired scholar a wholesome offset to + this was the travelling and lecturing in cities and in raw frontier towns, + bringing him into touch with the people, and this he knew and valued. + </p> + <p> + In 1837 Emerson gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration in Cambridge, The American + Scholar, which increased his growing reputation, but the following year + his Address to the Senior Class at the Divinity School brought out, even + from the friendly Unitarians, severe strictures and warnings against its + dangerous doctrines. Of this heresy Emerson said: "I deny personality to + God because it is too little, not too much." He really strove to elevate + the idea of God. Yet those who were pained or shocked by his teachings + respected Emerson. His lectures were still in demand; he was often asked + to speak by literary societies at orthodox colleges. He preached regularly + at East Lexington until 1838, but thereafter withdrew from the ministerial + office. At this time the progressive and spiritually minded young people + used to meet for discussion and help in Boston, among them George Ripley, + Cyrus Bartol, James Freeman Clarke, Alcott, Dr. Hedge, Margaret Fuller, + and Elizabeth Peabody. Perhaps from this gathering of friends, which + Emerson attended, came what is called the Transcendental Movement, two + results of which were the Brook Farm Community and the Dial magazine, in + which last Emerson took great interest, and was for the time an editor. + Many of these friends were frequent visitors in Concord. Alcott moved + thither after the breaking up of his school. Hawthorne also came to dwell + there. Henry Thoreau, a Concord youth, greatly interested Emerson; indeed, + became for a year or two a valued inmate of his home, and helped and + instructed him in the labors of the garden and little farm, which + gradually grew to ten acres, the chief interest of which for the owner was + his trees, which he loved and tended. Emerson helped introduce his + countrymen to the teachings of Carlyle, and edited his works here, where + they found more readers than at home. + </p> + <p> + In 1847 Emerson was invited to read lectures in England, and remained + abroad a year, visiting France also in her troublous times. English Traits + was a result. Just before this journey he had collected and published his + poems. A later volume, called May Day, followed in 1867. He had written + verses from childhood, and to the purified expression of poetry he, + through life, eagerly aspired. He said, "I like my poems best because it + is not I who write them." In 1866 the degree of Doctor of Laws was + conferred on him by Harvard University, and he was chosen an Overseer. In + 1867 he again gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration, and in 1870 and 1871 gave + courses in Philosophy in the University Lectures at Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + Emerson was not merely a man of letters. He recognized and did the private + and public duties of the hour. He exercised a wide hospitality to souls as + well as bodies. Eager youths came to him for rules, and went away with + light. Reformers, wise and unwise, came to him, and were kindly received. + They were often disappointed that they could not harness him to their + partial and transient scheme. He said, My reforms include theirs: I must + go my way; help people by my strength, not by my weakness. But if a storm + threatened, he felt bound to appear and show his colors. Against the + crying evils of his time he worked bravely in his own way. He wrote to + President Van Buren against the wrong done to the Cherokees, dared speak + against the idolized Webster, when he deserted the cause of Freedom, + constantly spoke of the iniquity of slavery, aided with speech and money + the Free State cause in Kansas, was at Phillips's side at the antislavery + meeting in 1861 broken up by the Boston mob, urged emancipation during the + war. + </p> + <p> + He enjoyed his Concord home and neighbors, served on the school committee + for years, did much for the Lyceum, and spoke on the town's great + occasions. He went to all town-meetings, oftener to listen and admire than + to speak, and always took pleasure and pride in the people. In return he + was respected and loved by them. + </p> + <p> + Emerson's house was destroyed by fire in 1872, and the incident exposure + and fatigue did him harm. His many friends insisted on rebuilding his + house and sending him abroad to get well. He went up the Nile, and + revisited England, finding old and new friends, and, on his return, was + welcomed and escorted home by the people of Concord. After this time he + was unable to write. His old age was quiet and happy among his family and + friends. He died in April, 1882. + </p> + <h3> + EDWARD W. EMERSON. + </h3> + <p> + January, 1899. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I — POEMS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD-BYE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: + Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. + Long through thy weary crowds I roam; + A river-ark on the ocean brine, + Long I've been tossed like the driven foam: + But now, proud world! I'm going home. + + Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; + To Grandeur with his wise grimace; + To upstart Wealth's averted eye; + To supple Office, low and high; + To crowded halls, to court and street; + To frozen hearts and hasting feet; + To those who go, and those who come; + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home. + + I am going to my own hearth-stone, + Bosomed in yon green hills alone,— + secret nook in a pleasant land, + Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; + Where arches green, the livelong day, + Echo the blackbird's roundelay, + And vulgar feet have never trod + A spot that is sacred to thought and God. + + O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, + I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; + And when I am stretched beneath the pines, + Where the evening star so holy shines, + I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, + At the sophist schools and the learned clan; + For what are they all, in their high conceit, + When man in the bush with God may meet? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EACH AND ALL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown + Of thee from the hill-top looking down; + The heifer that lows in the upland farm, + Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; + The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, + Deems not that great Napoleon + Stops his horse, and lists with delight, + Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; + Nor knowest thou what argument + Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. + All are needed by each one; + Nothing is fair or good alone. + I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, + Singing at dawn on the alder bough; + I brought him home, in his nest, at even; + He sings the song, but it cheers not now, + For I did not bring home the river and sky;— + He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye. + The delicate shells lay on the shore; + The bubbles of the latest wave + Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, + And the bellowing of the savage sea + Greeted their safe escape to me. + I wiped away the weeds and foam, + I fetched my sea-born treasures home; + But the poor, unsightly, noisome things + Had left their beauty on the shore + With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. + The lover watched his graceful maid, + As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, + Nor knew her beauty's best attire + Was woven still by the snow-white choir. + At last she came to his hermitage, + Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;— + The gay enchantment was undone, + A gentle wife, but fairy none. + Then I said, 'I covet truth; + Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; + I leave it behind with the games of youth:'— + As I spoke, beneath my feet + The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, + Running over the club-moss burrs; + I inhaled the violet's breath; + Around me stood the oaks and firs; + Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; + Over me soared the eternal sky. + Full of light and of deity; + Again I saw, again I heard, + The rolling river, the morning bird;— + Beauty through my senses stole; + I yielded myself to the perfect whole. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PROBLEM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I like a church; I like a cowl; + I love a prophet of the soul; + And on my heart monastic aisles + Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles + Yet not for all his faith can see + Would I that cowlèd churchman be. + + Why should the vest on him allure, + Which I could not on me endure? + + Not from a vain or shallow thought + His awful Jove young Phidias brought; + Never from lips of cunning fell + The thrilling Delphic oracle; + Out from the heart of nature rolled + The burdens of the Bible old; + The litanies of nations came, + Like the volcano's tongue of flame, + Up from the burning core below,— + The canticles of love and woe: + The hand that rounded Peter's dome + And groined the aisles of Christian Rome + Wrought in a sad sincerity; + Himself from God he could not free; + He builded better than he knew;— + The conscious stone to beauty grew. + + Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest + Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? + Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, + Painting with morn each annual cell? + Or how the sacred pine-tree adds + To her old leaves new myriads? + Such and so grew these holy piles, + Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. + Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, + As the best gem upon her zone, + And Morning opes with haste her lids + To gaze upon the Pyramids; + O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, + As on its friends, with kindred eye; + For out of Thought's interior sphere + These wonders rose to upper air; + And Nature gladly gave them place, + Adopted them into her race, + And granted them an equal date + With Andes and with Ararat. + + These temples grew as grows the grass; + Art might obey, but not surpass. + The passive Master lent his hand + To the vast soul that o'er him planned; + And the same power that reared the shrine + Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. + Ever the fiery Pentecost + Girds with one flame the countless host, + Trances the heart through chanting choirs, + And through the priest the mind inspires. + The word unto the prophet spoken + Was writ on tables yet unbroken; + The word by seers or sibyls told, + In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, + Still floats upon the morning wind, + Still whispers to the willing mind. + One accent of the Holy Ghost + The heedless world hath never lost. + I know what say the fathers wise,— + The Book itself before me lies, + Old <i>Chrysostom</i>, best Augustine, + And he who blent both in his line, + The younger <i>Golden Lips</i> or mines, + Taylor, the Shakspeare of divines. + His words are music in my ear, + I see his cowlèd portrait dear; + And yet, for all his faith could see, + I would not the good bishop be. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO RHEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes, + Not with flatteries, but truths, + Which tarnish not, but purify + To light which dims the morning's eye. + I have come from the spring-woods, + From the fragrant solitudes;— + Listen what the poplar-tree + And murmuring waters counselled me. + + If with love thy heart has burned; + If thy love is unreturned; + Hide thy grief within thy breast, + Though it tear thee unexpressed; + For when love has once departed + From the eyes of the false-hearted, + And one by one has torn off quite + The bandages of purple light; + Though thou wert the loveliest + Form the soul had ever dressed, + Thou shalt seem, in each reply, + A vixen to his altered eye; + Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, + Thy praying lute will seem to scold; + Though thou kept the straightest road, + Yet thou errest far and broad. + + But thou shalt do as do the gods + In their cloudless periods; + For of this lore be thou sure,— + Though thou forget, the gods, secure, + Forget never their command, + But make the statute of this land. + As they lead, so follow all, + Ever have done, ever shall. + Warning to the blind and deaf, + 'T is written on the iron leaf, + <i>Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup</i> + <i>Loveth downward, and not up;</i> + He who loves, of gods or men, + Shall not by the same be loved again; + His sweetheart's idolatry + Falls, in turn, a new degree. + When a god is once beguiled + By beauty of a mortal child + And by her radiant youth delighted, + He is not fooled, but warily knoweth + His love shall never be requited. + And thus the wise Immortal doeth,— + 'T is his study and delight + To bless that creature day and night; + From all evils to defend her; + In her lap to pour all splendor; + To ransack earth for riches rare, + And fetch her stars to deck her hair: + He mixes music with her thoughts, + And saddens her with heavenly doubts: + All grace, all good his great heart knows, + Profuse in love, the king bestows, + Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air! + This monument of my despair + Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair. + Not for a private good, + But I, from my beatitude, + Albeit scorned as none was scorned, + Adorn her as was none adorned. + I make this maiden an ensample + To Nature, through her kingdoms ample, + Whereby to model newer races, + Statelier forms and fairer faces; + To carry man to new degrees + Of power and of comeliness. + These presents be the hostages + Which I pawn for my release. + See to thyself, O Universe! + Thou art better, and not worse.'— + And the god, having given all, + Is freed forever from his thrall. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VISIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' + Devastator of the day! + Know, each substance and relation, + Thorough nature's operation, + Hath its unit, bound and metre; + And every new compound + Is some product and repeater,— + Product of the earlier found. + But the unit of the visit, + The encounter of the wise,— + Say, what other metre is it + Than the meeting of the eyes? + Nature poureth into nature + Through the channels of that feature, + Riding on the ray of sight, + Fleeter far than whirlwinds go, + Or for service, or delight, + Hearts to hearts their meaning show, + Sum their long experience, + And import intelligence. + Single look has drained the breast; + Single moment years confessed. + The duration of a glance + Is the term of convenance, + And, though thy rede be church or state, + Frugal multiples of that. + Speeding Saturn cannot halt; + Linger,—thou shalt rue the fault: + If Love his moment overstay, + Hatred's swift repulsions play. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + URIEL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It fell in the ancient periods + Which the brooding soul surveys, + Or ever the wild Time coined itself + Into calendar months and days. + + This was the lapse of Uriel, + Which in Paradise befell. + Once, among the Pleiads walking, + Seyd overheard the young gods talking; + And the treason, too long pent, + To his ears was evident. + The young deities discussed + Laws of form, and metre just, + Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, + What subsisteth, and what seems. + One, with low tones that decide, + And doubt and reverend use defied, + With a look that solved the sphere, + And stirred the devils everywhere, + Gave his sentiment divine + Against the being of a line. + 'Line in nature is not found; + Unit and universe are round; + In vain produced, all rays return; + Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' + As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, + A shudder ran around the sky; + The stern old war-gods shook their heads, + The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; + Seemed to the holy festival + The rash word boded ill to all; + The balance-beam of Fate was bent; + The bounds of good and ill were rent; + Strong Hades could not keep his own, + But all slid to confusion. + + A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell + On the beauty of Uriel; + In heaven once eminent, the god + Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; + Whether doomed to long gyration + In the sea of generation, + Or by knowledge grown too bright + To hit the nerve of feebler sight. + Straightway, a forgetting wind + Stole over the celestial kind, + And their lips the secret kept, + If in ashes the fire-seed slept. + But now and then, truth-speaking things + Shamed the angels' veiling wings; + And, shrilling from the solar course, + Or from fruit of chemic force, + Procession of a soul in matter, + Or the speeding change of water, + Or out of the good of evil born, + Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, + And a blush tinged the upper sky, + And the gods shook, they knew not why. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WORLD-SOUL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thanks to the morning light, + Thanks to the foaming sea, + To the uplands of New Hampshire, + To the green-haired forest free; + Thanks to each man of courage, + To the maids of holy mind, + To the boy with his games undaunted + Who never looks behind. + + Cities of proud hotels, + Houses of rich and great, + Vice nestles in your chambers, + Beneath your roofs of slate. + It cannot conquer folly,— + Time-and-space-conquering steam,— + And the light-outspeeding telegraph + Bears nothing on its beam. + + The politics are base; + The letters do not cheer; + And 'tis far in the deeps of history, + The voice that speaketh clear. + Trade and the streets ensnare us, + Our bodies are weak and worn; + We plot and corrupt each other, + And we despoil the unborn. + + Yet there in the parlor sits + Some figure of noble guise,— + Our angel, in a stranger's form, + Or woman's pleading eyes; + Or only a flashing sunbeam + In at the window-pane; + Or Music pours on mortals + Its beautiful disdain. + + The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be; + And be sure the all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. + Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky between the walls, + Hold all the hidden wonders + In scanty intervals. + + Alas! the Sprite that haunts us + Deceives our rash desire; + It whispers of the glorious gods, + And leaves us in the mire. + We cannot learn the cipher + That's writ upon our cell; + Stars taunt us by a mystery + Which we could never spell. + + If but one hero knew it, + The world would blush in flame; + The sage, till he hit the secret, + Would hang his head for shame. + Our brothers have not read it, + Not one has found the key; + And henceforth we are comforted,— + We are but such as they. + + Still, still the secret presses; + The nearing clouds draw down; + The crimson morning flames into + The fopperies of the town. + Within, without the idle earth, + Stars weave eternal rings; + The sun himself shines heartily, + And shares the joy he brings. + + And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, + And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o'er?— + They are but sailing foam-bells + Along Thought's causing stream, + And take their shape and sun-color + From him that sends the dream. + + For Destiny never swerves + Nor yields to men the helm; + He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves, + Throughout the solid realm. + The patient Daemon sits, + With roses and a shroud; + He has his way, and deals his gifts,— + But ours is not allowed. + + He is no churl nor trifler, + And his viceroy is none,— + Love-without-weakness,— + Of Genius sire and son. + And his will is not thwarted; + The seeds of land and sea + Are the atoms of his body bright, + And his behest obey. + + He serveth the servant, + The brave he loves amain; + He kills the cripple and the sick, + And straight begins again; + For gods delight in gods, + And thrust the weak aside; + To him who scorns their charities + Their arms fly open wide. + + When the old world is sterile + And the ages are effete, + He will from wrecks and sediment + The fairer world complete. + He forbids to despair; + His cheeks mantle with mirth; + And the unimagined good of men + Is yeaning at the birth. + + Spring still makes spring in the mind + When sixty years are told; + Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, + And we are never old; + Over the winter glaciers + I see the summer glow, + And through the wild-piled snow-drift + The warm rosebuds below. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SPHINX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Sphinx is drowsy, + Her wings are furled: + Her ear is heavy, + She broods on the world. + "Who'll tell me my secret, + The ages have kept?— + I awaited the seer + While they slumbered and slept:— + + "The fate of the man-child, + The meaning of man; + Known fruit of the unknown; + Daedalian plan; + Out of sleeping a waking, + Out of waking a sleep; + Life death overtaking; + Deep underneath deep? + + "Erect as a sunbeam, + Upspringeth the palm; + The elephant browses, + Undaunted and calm; + In beautiful motion + The thrush plies his wings; + Kind leaves of his covert, + Your silence he sings. + + "The waves, unashamèd, + In difference sweet, + Play glad with the breezes, + Old playfellows meet; + The journeying atoms, + Primordial wholes, + Firmly draw, firmly drive, + By their animate poles. + + "Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. + Plant, quadruped, bird, + By one music enchanted, + One deity stirred,— + Each the other adorning, + Accompany still; + Night veileth the morning, + The vapor the hill. + + "The babe by its mother + Lies bathèd in joy; + Glide its hours uncounted,— + The sun is its toy; + Shines the peace of all being, + Without cloud, in its eyes; + And the sum of the world + In soft miniature lies. + + "But man crouches and blushes, + Absconds and conceals; + He creepeth and peepeth, + He palters and steals; + Infirm, melancholy, + Jealous glancing around, + An oaf, an accomplice, + He poisons the ground. + + "Out spoke the great mother, + Beholding his fear;— + At the sound of her accents + Cold shuddered the sphere:— + 'Who has drugged my boy's cup? + Who has mixed my boy's bread? + Who, with sadness and madness, + Has turned my child's head?'" + + I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, + 'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. + Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; + They fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime. + + "The fiend that man harries + Is love of the Best; + Yawns the pit of the Dragon, + Lit by rays from the Blest. + The Lethe of Nature + Can't trance him again, + Whose soul sees the perfect, + Which his eyes seek in vain. + + "To vision profounder, + Man's spirit must dive; + His aye-rolling orb + At no goal will arrive; + The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, + Once found,—for new heavens + He spurneth the old. + + "Pride ruined the angels, + Their shame them restores; + Lurks the joy that is sweetest + In stings of remorse. + Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?— + I would he were nobler + Than to love me. + + "Eterne alternation + Now follows, now flies; + And under pain, pleasure,— + Under pleasure, pain lies. + Love works at the centre, + Heart-heaving alway; + Forth speed the strong pulses + To the borders of day. + + "Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; + Thy sight is growing blear; + Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, + Her muddy eyes to clear!" + The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,— + Said, "Who taught thee me to name? + I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow; + Of thine eye I am eyebeam. + + "Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, + Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. + So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; + Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply." + + Uprose the merry Sphinx, + And crouched no more in stone; + She melted into purple cloud, + She silvered in the moon; + She spired into a yellow flame; + She flowered in blossoms red; + She flowed into a foaming wave: + She stood Monadnoc's head. + + Thorough a thousand voices + Spoke the universal dame; + "Who telleth one of my meanings + Is master of all I am." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I, Alphonso, live and learn, + Seeing Nature go astern. + Things deteriorate in kind; + Lemons run to leaves and rind; + Meagre crop of figs and limes; + Shorter days and harder times. + Flowering April cools and dies + In the insufficient skies. + Imps, at high midsummer, blot + Half the sun's disk with a spot; + 'Twill not now avail to tan + Orange cheek or skin of man. + Roses bleach, the goats are dry, + Lisbon quakes, the people cry. + Yon pale, scrawny fisher fools, + Gaunt as bitterns in the pools, + Are no brothers of my blood;— + They discredit Adamhood. + Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, + O'er your ramparts as ye lean, + The general debility; + Of genius the sterility; + Mighty projects countermanded; + Rash ambition, brokenhanded; + Puny man and scentless rose + Tormenting Pan to double the dose. + Rebuild or ruin: either fill + Of vital force the wasted rill, + Or tumble all again in heap + To weltering Chaos and to sleep. + + Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, + Which fed the veins of earth and sky, + That mortals miss the loyal heats, + Which drove them erst to social feats; + Now, to a savage selfness grown, + Think nature barely serves for one; + With science poorly mask their hurt; + And vex the gods with question pert, + Immensely curious whether you + Still are rulers, or Mildew? + + Masters, I'm in pain with you; + Masters, I'll be plain with you; + In my palace of Castile, + I, a king, for kings can feel. + There my thoughts the matter roll, + And solve and oft resolve the whole. + And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, + Ye shall not fail for sound advice. + Before ye want a drop of rain, + Hear the sentiment of Spain. + + You have tried famine: no more try it; + Ply us now with a full diet; + Teach your pupils now with plenty, + For one sun supply us twenty. + I have thought it thoroughly over,— + State of hermit, state of lover; + We must have society, + We cannot spare variety. + Hear you, then, celestial fellows! + Fits not to be overzealous; + Steads not to work on the clean jump, + Nor wine nor brains perpetual pump. + Men and gods are too extense; + Could you slacken and condense? + Your rank overgrowths reduce + Till your kinds abound with juice? + Earth, crowded, cries, 'Too many men!' + My counsel is, kill nine in ten, + And bestow the shares of all + On the remnant decimal. + Add their nine lives to this cat; + Stuff their nine brains in one hat; + Make his frame and forces square + With the labors he must dare; + Thatch his flesh, and even his years + With the marble which he rears. + There, growing slowly old at ease + No faster than his planted trees, + He may, by warrant of his age, + In schemes of broader scope engage. + So shall ye have a man of the sphere + Fit to grace the solar year. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MITHRIDATES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot spare water or wine, + Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; + From the earth-poles to the Line, + All between that works or grows, + Every thing is kin of mine. + + Give me agates for my meat; + Give me cantharids to eat; + From air and ocean bring me foods, + From all zones and altitudes;— + + From all natures, sharp and slimy, + Salt and basalt, wild and tame: + Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, + Bird, and reptile, be my game. + + Ivy for my fillet band; + Blinding dog-wood in my hand; + Hemlock for my sherbet cull me, + And the prussic juice to lull me; + Swing me in the upas boughs, + Vampyre-fanned, when I carouse. + + Too long shut in strait and few, + Thinly dieted on dew, + I will use the world, and sift it, + To a thousand humors shift it, + As you spin a cherry. + O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry! + O all you virtues, methods, mights, + Means, appliances, delights, + Reputed wrongs and braggart rights, + Smug routine, and things allowed, + Minorities, things under cloud! + Hither! take me, use me, fill me, + Vein and artery, though ye kill me! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO J.W. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Set not thy foot on graves; + Hear what wine and roses say; + The mountain chase, the summer waves, + The crowded town, thy feet may well delay. + + Set not thy foot on graves; + Nor seek to unwind the shroud + Which charitable Time + And Nature have allowed + To wrap the errors of a sage sublime. + + Set not thy foot on graves; + Care not to strip the dead + Of his sad ornament, + His myrrh, and wine, and rings, + + His sheet of lead, + And trophies buried: + Go, get them where he earned them when alive; + As resolutely dig or dive. + + Life is too short to waste + In critic peep or cynic bark, + Quarrel or reprimand: + 'T will soon be dark; + Up! mind thine own aim, and + God speed the mark! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DESTINY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That you are fair or wise is vain, + Or strong, or rich, or generous; + You must add the untaught strain + That sheds beauty on the rose. + There's a melody born of melody, + Which melts the world into a sea. + Toil could never compass it; + Art its height could never hit; + It came never out of wit; + But a music music-born + Well may Jove and Juno scorn. + Thy beauty, if it lack the fire + Which drives me mad with sweet desire, + What boots it? What the soldier's mail, + Unless he conquer and prevail? + What all the goods thy pride which lift, + If thou pine for another's gift? + Alas! that one is born in blight, + Victim of perpetual slight: + When thou lookest on his face, + Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! + None shall ask thee what thou doest, + Or care a rush for what thou knowest, + Or listen when thou repliest, + Or remember where thou liest, + Or how thy supper is sodden;' + And another is born + To make the sun forgotten. + Surely he carries a talisman + Under his tongue; + Broad his shoulders are and strong; + And his eye is scornful, + Threatening and young. + I hold it of little matter + Whether your jewel be of pure water, + A rose diamond or a white, + But whether it dazzle me with light. + I care not how you are dressed, + In coarsest weeds or in the best; + Nor whether your name is base or brave: + Nor for the fashion of your behavior; + But whether you charm me, + Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me + And dress up Nature in your favor. + One thing is forever good; + That one thing is Success,— + Dear to the Eumenides, + And to all the heavenly brood. + Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, + Carries the eagles, and masters the sword. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GUY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mortal mixed of middle clay, + Attempered to the night and day, + Interchangeable with things, + Needs no amulets nor rings. + Guy possessed the talisman + That all things from him began; + And as, of old, Polycrates + Chained the sunshine and the breeze, + So did Guy betimes discover + Fortune was his guard and lover; + In strange junctures, felt, with awe, + His own symmetry with law; + That no mixture could withstand + The virtue of his lucky hand. + He gold or jewel could not lose, + Nor not receive his ample dues. + Fearless Guy had never foes, + He did their weapons decompose. + Aimed at him, the blushing blade + Healed as fast the wounds it made. + If on the foeman fell his gaze, + Him it would straightway blind or craze, + In the street, if he turned round, + His eye the eye 't was seeking found. + + It seemed his Genius discreet + Worked on the Maker's own receipt, + And made each tide and element + Stewards of stipend and of rent; + So that the common waters fell + As costly wine into his well. + He had so sped his wise affairs + That he caught Nature in his snares. + Early or late, the falling rain + Arrived in time to swell his grain; + Stream could not so perversely wind + But corn of Guy's was there to grind: + The siroc found it on its way, + To speed his sails, to dry his hay; + And the world's sun seemed to rise + To drudge all day for Guy the wise. + In his rich nurseries, timely skill + Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; + The zephyr in his garden rolled + From plum-trees vegetable gold; + And all the hours of the year + With their own harvest honored were. + There was no frost but welcome came, + Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. + Belonged to wind and world the toil + And venture, and to Guy the oil. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HAMATREYA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, + Possessed the land which rendered to their toil + Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood. + Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm, + Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's. + How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees! + How graceful climb those shadows on my hill! + I fancy these pure waters and the flags + Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize; + And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.' + + Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds: + And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. + Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys + Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; + Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet + Clear of the grave. + They added ridge to valley, brook to pond, + And sighed for all that bounded their domain; + 'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park; + We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge, + And misty lowland, where to go for peat. + The land is well,—lies fairly to the south. + 'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back, + To find the sitfast acres where you left them.' + Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds + Him to his land, a lump of mould the more. + Hear what the Earth says:— + + EARTH-SONG + + 'Mine and yours; + Mine, not yours. + Earth endures; + Stars abide— + Shine down in the old sea; + Old are the shores; + But where are old men? + I who have seen much, + Such have I never seen. + + 'The lawyer's deed + Ran sure, + In tail, + To them, and to their heirs + Who shall succeed, + Without fail, + Forevermore. + + 'Here is the land, + Shaggy with wood, + With its old valley, + Mound and flood. + But the heritors?— + + Fled like the flood's foam. + The lawyer, and the laws, + And the kingdom, + Clean swept herefrom. + + 'They called me theirs, + Who so controlled me; + Yet every one + Wished to stay, and is gone, + How am I theirs, + If they cannot hold me, + But I hold them?' + + When I heard the Earth-song + I was no longer brave; + My avarice cooled + Like lust in the chill of the grave. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RHODORA: + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? + + In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, + I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, + Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, + To please the desert and the sluggish brook. + The purple petals, fallen in the pool, + Made the black water with their beauty gay; + Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. + And court the flower that cheapens his array. + Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why + This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, + Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, + Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: + Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! + I never thought to ask, I never knew: + But, in my simple ignorance, suppose + The self-same Power that brought me there brought you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HUMBLE-BEE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Burly, dozing humble-bee, + Where thou art is clime for me. + Let them sail for Porto Rique, + Far-off heats through seas to seek; + I will follow thee alone, + Thou animated torrid-zone! + Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, + Let me chase thy waving lines; + Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, + Singing over shrubs and vines. + + Insect lover of the sun, + Joy of thy dominion! + Sailor of the atmosphere; + Swimmer through the waves of air; + Voyager of light and noon; + Epicurean of June; + Wait, I prithee, till I come + Within earshot of thy hum,— + All without is martyrdom. + + When the south wind, in May days, + With a net of shining haze + Silvers the horizon wall, + And with softness touching all, + Tints the human countenance + With a color of romance, + And infusing subtle heats, + Turns the sod to violets, + Thou, in sunny solitudes, + Rover of the underwoods, + The green silence dost displace + With thy mellow, breezy bass. + + Hot midsummer's petted crone, + Sweet to me thy drowsy tone + Tells of countless sunny hours, + Long days, and solid banks of flowers; + Of gulfs of sweetness without bound + In Indian wildernesses found; + Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, + Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. + + Aught unsavory or unclean + Hath my insect never seen; + But violets and bilberry bells, + Maple-sap and daffodels, + Grass with green flag half-mast high, + Succory to match the sky, + Columbine with horn of honey, + Scented fern, and agrimony, + Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue + And brier-roses, dwelt among; + All beside was unknown waste, + All was picture as he passed. + + Wiser far than human seer, + Yellow-breeched philosopher! + Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet, + Thou dost mock at fate and care, + Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. + When the fierce northwestern blast + Cools sea and land so far and fast, + Thou already slumberest deep; + Woe and want thou canst outsleep; + Want and woe, which torture us, + Thy sleep makes ridiculous. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BERRYING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'May be true what I had heard,— + Earth's a howling wilderness, + Truculent with fraud and force,' + Said I, strolling through the pastures, + And along the river-side. + Caught among the blackberry vines, + Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, + Pleasant fancies overtook me. + I said, 'What influence me preferred, + Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' + The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem + No wisdom from our berries went?' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SNOW-STORM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, + And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. + The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet + Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit + Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed + In a tumultuous privacy of storm. + + Come see the north wind's masonry. + Out of an unseen quarry + Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer + Curves his white bastions with projected roof + Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. + Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work + So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he + For number or proportion. Mockingly, + On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; + A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; + Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, + Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate + A tapering turret overtops the work. + And when his hours are numbered, and the world + Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, + Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art + To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, + Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, + The frolic architecture of the snow. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOODNOTES I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1 + + When the pine tosses its cones + To the song of its waterfall tones, + Who speeds to the woodland walks? + To birds and trees who talks? + Caesar of his leafy Rome, + There the poet is at home. + He goes to the river-side,— + Not hook nor line hath he; + He stands in the meadows wide,— + Nor gun nor scythe to see. + Sure some god his eye enchants: + What he knows nobody wants. + In the wood he travels glad, + Without better fortune had, + Melancholy without bad. + Knowledge this man prizes best + Seems fantastic to the rest: + Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, + Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, + Boughs on which the wild bees settle, + Tints that spot the violet's petal, + Why Nature loves the number five, + And why the star-form she repeats: + Lover of all things alive, + Wonderer at all he meets, + Wonderer chiefly at himself, + Who can tell him what he is? + Or how meet in human elf + Coming and past eternities? + + 2 + + And such I knew, a forest seer, + A minstrel of the natural year, + Foreteller of the vernal ides, + Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, + A lover true, who knew by heart + Each joy the mountain dales impart; + It seemed that Nature could not raise + A plant in any secret place, + In quaking bog, on snowy hill, + Beneath the grass that shades the rill, + Under the snow, between the rocks, + In damp fields known to bird and fox. + But he would come in the very hour + It opened in its virgin bower, + As if a sunbeam showed the place, + And tell its long-descended race. + It seemed as if the breezes brought him, + It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; + As if by secret sight he knew + Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. + Many haps fall in the field + Seldom seen by wishful eyes, + But all her shows did Nature yield, + To please and win this pilgrim wise. + He saw the partridge drum in the woods; + He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; + He found the tawny thrushes' broods; + And the shy hawk did wait for him; + What others did at distance hear, + And guessed within the thicket's gloom, + Was shown to this philosopher, + And at his bidding seemed to come. + + 3 + + In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang + Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; + He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon + The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; + Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, + And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. + He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, + The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, + And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, + Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. + He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, + With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,— + One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, + Declares the close of its green century. + Low lies the plant to whose creation went + Sweet influence from every element; + Whose living towers the years conspired to build, + Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. + Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, + He roamed, content alike with man and beast. + Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; + There the red morning touched him with its light. + Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, + So long he roved at will the boundless shade. + The timid it concerns to ask their way, + And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, + To make no step until the event is known, + And ills to come as evils past bemoan. + Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps + To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; + Go where he will, the wise man is at home, + His hearth the earth,—his hall the azure dome; + Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road + By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. + + 4 + + 'T was one of the charmèd days + When the genius of God doth flow; + The wind may alter twenty ways, + A tempest cannot blow; + It may blow north, it still is warm; + Or south, it still is clear; + Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; + Or west, no thunder fear. + The musing peasant, lowly great, + Beside the forest water sate; + The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown + Composed the network of his throne; + The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, + Was burnished to a floor of glass, + Painted with shadows green and proud + Of the tree and of the cloud. + He was the heart of all the scene; + On him the sun looked more serene; + To hill and cloud his face was known,— + It seemed the likeness of their own; + They knew by secret sympathy + The public child of earth and sky. + 'You ask,' he said, 'what guide + Me through trackless thickets led, + Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. + I found the water's bed. + The watercourses were my guide; + I travelled grateful by their side, + Or through their channel dry; + They led me through the thicket damp, + Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, + Through beds of granite cut my road, + And their resistless friendship showed. + The falling waters led me, + The foodful waters fed me, + And brought me to the lowest land, + Unerring to the ocean sand. + The moss upon the forest bark + Was pole-star when the night was dark; + The purple berries in the wood + Supplied me necessary food; + For Nature ever faithful is + To such as trust her faithfulness. + When the forest shall mislead me, + When the night and morning lie, + When sea and land refuse to feed me, + 'T will be time enough to die; + Then will yet my mother yield + A pillow in her greenest field, + Nor the June flowers scorn to cover + The clay of their departed lover.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOODNOTES II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>As sunbeams stream through liberal space</i> + <i>And nothing jostle or displace,</i> + <i>So waved the pine-tree through my thought</i> + <i>And fanned the dreams it never brought.</i> + + 'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? + Come to me,' + Quoth the pine-tree, + 'I am the giver of honor. + My garden is the cloven rock, + And my manure the snow; + And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, + In summer's scorching glow. + He is great who can live by me: + The rough and bearded forester + Is better than the lord; + God fills the script and canister, + Sin piles the loaded board. + The lord is the peasant that was, + The peasant the lord that shall be; + The lord is hay, the peasant grass, + One dry, and one the living tree. + Who liveth by the ragged pine + Foundeth a heroic line; + Who liveth in the palace hall + Waneth fast and spendeth all. + He goes to my savage haunts, + With his chariot and his care; + My twilight realm he disenchants, + And finds his prison there. + + 'What prizes the town and the tower? + Only what the pine-tree yields; + Sinew that subdued the fields; + The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods + Chants his hymn to hills and floods, + Whom the city's poisoning spleen + Made not pale, or fat, or lean; + Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, + Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, + In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, + In whose feet the lion rusheth, + Iron arms, and iron mould, + That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. + I give my rafters to his boat, + My billets to his boiler's throat, + And I will swim the ancient sea + To float my child to victory, + And grant to dwellers with the pine + Dominion o'er the palm and vine. + Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, + Unnerves his strength, invites his end. + Cut a bough from my parent stem, + And dip it in thy porcelain vase; + A little while each russet gem + Will swell and rise with wonted grace; + But when it seeks enlarged supplies, + The orphan of the forest dies. + Whoso walks in solitude + And inhabiteth the wood, + Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, + Before the money-loving herd, + Into that forester shall pass, + From these companions, power and grace. + Clean shall he be, without, within, + From the old adhering sin, + All ill dissolving in the light + Of his triumphant piercing sight: + Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; + Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; + Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, + And of all other men desired. + On him the light of star and moon + Shall fall with purer radiance down; + All constellations of the sky + Shed their virtue through his eye. + Him Nature giveth for defence + His formidable innocence; + The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, + All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; + He shall meet the speeding year, + Without wailing, without fear; + He shall be happy in his love, + Like to like shall joyful prove; + He shall be happy whilst he wooes, + Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. + But if with gold she bind her hair, + And deck her breast with diamond, + Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, + Though thou lie alone on the ground. + + 'Heed the old oracles, + Ponder my spells; + Song wakes in my pinnacles + When the wind swells. + Soundeth the prophetic wind, + The shadows shake on the rock behind, + And the countless leaves of the pine are strings + Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. + Hearken! Hearken! + If thou wouldst know the mystic song + Chanted when the sphere was young. + Aloft, abroad, the paean swells; + O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? + O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? + 'Tis the chronicle of art. + To the open ear it sings + Sweet the genesis of things, + Of tendency through endless ages, + Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, + Of rounded worlds, of space and time, + Of the old flood's subsiding slime, + Of chemic matter, force and form, + Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: + The rushing metamorphosis + Dissolving all that fixture is, + Melts things that be to things that seem, + And solid nature to a dream. + O, listen to the undersong, + The ever old, the ever young; + And, far within those cadent pauses, + The chorus of the ancient Causes! + Delights the dreadful Destiny + To fling his voice into the tree, + And shock thy weak ear with a note + Breathed from the everlasting throat. + In music he repeats the pang + Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. + O mortal! thy ears are stones; + These echoes are laden with tones + Which only the pure can hear; + Thou canst not catch what they recite + Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, + Of man to come, of human life, + Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' + + Once again the pine-tree sung:— + 'Speak not thy speech my boughs among: + Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; + My hours are peaceful centuries. + Talk no more with feeble tongue; + No more the fool of space and time, + Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. + Only thy Americans + Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, + But the runes that I rehearse + Understands the universe; + The least breath my boughs which tossed + Brings again the Pentecost; + To every soul resounding clear + In a voice of solemn cheer,— + "Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" + And they reply, "Forever mine!" + My branches speak Italian, + English, German, Basque, Castilian, + Mountain speech to Highlanders, + Ocean tongues to islanders, + To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, + To each his bosom-secret say. + + 'Come learn with me the fatal song + Which knits the world in music strong, + Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, + Of things with things, of times with times, + Primal chimes of sun and shade, + Of sound and echo, man and maid, + The land reflected in the flood, + Body with shadow still pursued. + For Nature beats in perfect tune, + And rounds with rhyme her every rune, + Whether she work in land or sea, + Or hide underground her alchemy. + Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, + Or dip thy paddle in the lake, + But it carves the bow of beauty there, + And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. + The wood is wiser far than thou; + The wood and wave each other know + Not unrelated, unaffied, + But to each thought and thing allied, + Is perfect Nature's every part, + Rooted in the mighty Heart, + But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, + Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, + Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? + Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? + Who thee divorced, deceived and left? + Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, + And torn the ensigns from thy brow, + And sunk the immortal eye so low? + Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, + Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender + For royal man;—they thee confess + An exile from the wilderness,— + The hills where health with health agrees, + And the wise soul expels disease. + Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign + By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. + When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, + Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, + To thee the horizon shall express + But emptiness on emptiness; + There lives no man of Nature's worth + In the circle of the earth; + And to thine eye the vast skies fall, + Dire and satirical, + On clucking hens and prating fools, + On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. + And thou shalt say to the Most High, + "Godhead! all this astronomy, + And fate and practice and invention, + Strong art and beautiful pretension, + This radiant pomp of sun and star, + Throes that were, and worlds that are, + Behold! were in vain and in vain;— + It cannot be,—I will look again. + Surely now will the curtain rise, + And earth's fit tenant me surprise;— + But the curtain doth <i>not</i> rise, + And Nature has miscarried wholly + Into failure, into folly." + + 'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, + Blessed Nature so to see. + Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, + And heal the hurts which sin has made. + I see thee in the crowd alone; + I will be thy companion. + Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, + And build to them a final tomb; + Let the starred shade that nightly falls + Still celebrate their funerals, + And the bell of beetle and of bee + Knell their melodious memory. + Behind thee leave thy merchandise, + Thy churches and thy charities; + And leave thy peacock wit behind; + Enough for thee the primal mind + That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: + Leave all thy pedant lore apart; + God hid the whole world in thy heart. + Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, + Gives all to them who all renounce. + The rain comes when the wind calls; + The river knows the way to the sea; + Without a pilot it runs and falls, + Blessing all lands with its charity; + The sea tosses and foams to find + Its way up to the cloud and wind; + The shadow sits close to the flying ball; + The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; + And thou,—go burn thy wormy pages,— + Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. + Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain + To find what bird had piped the strain:— + Seek not, and the little eremite + Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. + + 'Hearken once more! + I will tell thee the mundane lore. + Older am I than thy numbers wot, + Change I may, but I pass not. + Hitherto all things fast abide, + And anchored in the tempest ride. + Trenchant time behoves to hurry + All to yean and all to bury: + All the forms are fugitive, + But the substances survive. + Ever fresh the broad creation, + A divine improvisation, + From the heart of God proceeds, + A single will, a million deeds. + Once slept the world an egg of stone, + And pulse, and sound, and light was none; + And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion + And the vast mass became vast ocean. + Onward and on, the eternal Pan, + Who layeth the world's incessant plan, + Halteth never in one shape, + But forever doth escape, + Like wave or flame, into new forms + Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. + I, that to-day am a pine, + Yesterday was a bundle of grass. + He is free and libertine, + Pouring of his power the wine + To every age, to every race; + Unto every race and age + He emptieth the beverage; + Unto each, and unto all, + Maker and original. + The world is the ring of his spells, + And the play of his miracles. + As he giveth to all to drink, + Thus or thus they are and think. + With one drop sheds form and feature; + With the next a special nature; + The third adds heat's indulgent spark; + The fourth gives light which eats the dark; + Into the fifth himself he flings, + And conscious Law is King of kings. + As the bee through the garden ranges, + From world to world the godhead changes; + As the sheep go feeding in the waste, + From form to form He maketh haste; + This vault which glows immense with light + Is the inn where he lodges for a night. + What recks such Traveller if the bowers + Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers + A bunch of fragrant lilies be, + Or the stars of eternity? + Alike to him the better, the worse,— + The glowing angel, the outcast corse. + Thou metest him by centuries, + And lo! he passes like the breeze; + Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, + He hides in pure transparency; + Thou askest in fountains and in fires, + He is the essence that inquires. + He is the axis of the star; + He is the sparkle of the spar; + He is the heart of every creature; + He is the meaning of each feature; + And his mind is the sky. + Than all it holds more deep, more high.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONADNOC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thousand minstrels woke within me, + 'Our music's in the hills;'— + Gayest pictures rose to win me, + Leopard-colored rills. + 'Up!—If thou knew'st who calls + To twilight parks of beech and pine, + High over the river intervals, + Above the ploughman's highest line, + Over the owner's farthest walls! + Up! where the airy citadel + O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell! + Let not unto the stones the Day + Her lily and rose, her sea and land display. + Read the celestial sign! + Lo! the south answers to the north; + Bookworm, break this sloth urbane; + A greater spirit bids thee forth + Than the gray dreams which thee detain. + Mark how the climbing Oreads + Beckon thee to their arcades; + Youth, for a moment free as they, + Teach thy feet to feel the ground, + Ere yet arrives the wintry day + When Time thy feet has bound. + Take the bounty of thy birth, + Taste the lordship of the earth.' + + I heard, and I obeyed,— + Assured that he who made the claim, + Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid. + Ere yet the summoning voice was still, + I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill. + From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed + Like ample banner flung abroad + To all the dwellers in the plains + Round about, a hundred miles, + With salutation to the sea and to the bordering isles. + In his own loom's garment dressed, + By his proper bounty blessed, + Fast abides this constant giver, + Pouring many a cheerful river; + To far eyes, an aerial isle + Unploughed, which finer spirits pile, + Which morn and crimson evening paint + For bard, for lover and for saint; + An eyemark and the country's core, + Inspirer, prophet evermore; + Pillar which God aloft had set + So that men might it not forget; + It should be their life's ornament, + And mix itself with each event; + Gauge and calendar and dial, + Weatherglass and chemic phial, + Garden of berries, perch of birds, + Pasture of pool-haunting herds, + Graced by each change of sum untold, + Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold. + + The Titan heeds his sky-affairs, + Rich rents and wide alliance shares; + Mysteries of color daily laid + By morn and eve in light and shade; + And sweet varieties of chance, + And the mystic seasons' dance; + And thief-like step of liberal hours + Thawing snow-drift into flowers. + O, wondrous craft of plant and stone + By eldest science wrought and shown! + + 'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here! + Fair fortunes to the mountaineer! + Boon Nature to his poorest shed + Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.' + Intent, I searched the region round, + And in low hut the dweller found: + Woe is me for my hope's downfall! + Is yonder squalid peasant all + That this proud nursery could breed + For God's vicegerency and stead? + Time out of mind, this forge of ores; + Quarry of spars in mountain pores; + Old cradle, hunting-ground and bier + Of wolf and otter, bear and deer; + Well-built abode of many a race; + Tower of observance searching space; + Factory of river and of rain; + Link in the Alps' globe-girding chain; + By million changes skilled to tell + What in the Eternal standeth well, + And what obedient Nature can;— + Is this colossal talisman + Kindly to plant and blood and kind, + But speechless to the master's mind? + I thought to find the patriots + In whom the stock of freedom roots; + To myself I oft recount + Tales of many a famous mount,— + Wales, Scotland, Uri, Hungary's dells: + Bards, Roys, Scanderbegs and Tells; + And think how Nature in these towers + Uplifted shall condense her powers, + And lifting man to the blue deep + Where stars their perfect courses keep, + Like wise preceptor, lure his eye + To sound the science of the sky, + And carry learning to its height + Of untried power and sane delight: + The Indian cheer, the frosty skies, + Rear purer wits, inventive eyes,— + Eyes that frame cities where none be, + And hands that stablish what these see: + And by the moral of his place + Hint summits of heroic grace; + Man in these crags a fastness find + To fight pollution of the mind; + In the wide thaw and ooze of wrong, + Adhere like this foundation strong, + The insanity of towns to stem + With simpleness for stratagem. + But if the brave old mould is broke, + And end in churls the mountain folk + In tavern cheer and tavern joke, + Sink, O mountain, in the swamp! + Hide in thy skies, O sovereign lamp! + Perish like leaves, the highland breed + No sire survive, no son succeed! + + Soft! let not the offended muse + Toil's hard hap with scorn accuse. + Many hamlets sought I then, + Many farms of mountain men. + Rallying round a parish steeple + Nestle warm the highland people, + Coarse and boisterous, yet mild, + Strong as giant, slow as child. + Sweat and season are their arts, + Their talismans are ploughs and carts; + And well the youngest can command + Honey from the frozen land; + With cloverheads the swamp adorn, + Change the running sand to corn; + For wolf and fox, bring lowing herds, + And for cold mosses, cream and curds: + Weave wood to canisters and mats; + Drain sweet maple juice in vats. + No bird is safe that cuts the air + From their rifle or their snare; + No fish, in river or in lake, + But their long hands it thence will take; + Whilst the country's flinty face, + Like wax, their fashioning skill betrays, + To fill the hollows, sink the hills, + Bridge gulfs, drain swamps, build dams and mills, + And fit the bleak and howling waste + For homes of virtue, sense and taste. + The World-soul knows his own affair, + Forelooking, when he would prepare + For the next ages, men of mould + Well embodied, well ensouled, + He cools the present's fiery glow, + Sets the life-pulse strong but slow: + Bitter winds and fasts austere + His quarantines and grottoes, where + He slowly cures decrepit flesh, + And brings it infantile and fresh. + Toil and tempest are the toys + And games to breathe his stalwart boys: + They bide their time, and well can prove, + If need were, their line from Jove; + Of the same stuff, and so allayed, + As that whereof the sun is made, + And of the fibre, quick and strong, + Whose throbs are love, whose thrills are song. + + Now in sordid weeds they sleep, + In dulness now their secret keep; + Yet, will you learn our ancient speech, + These the masters who can teach. + Fourscore or a hundred words + All their vocal muse affords; + But they turn them in a fashion + Past clerks' or statesmen's art or passion. + I can spare the college bell, + And the learned lecture, well; + Spare the clergy and libraries, + Institutes and dictionaries, + For that hardy English root + Thrives here, unvalued, underfoot. + Rude poets of the tavern hearth, + Squandering your unquoted mirth, + Which keeps the ground and never soars, + While Jake retorts and Reuben roars; + Scoff of yeoman strong and stark, + Goes like bullet to its mark; + While the solid curse and jeer + Never balk the waiting ear. + + On the summit as I stood, + O'er the floor of plain and flood + Seemed to me, the towering hill + Was not altogether still, + But a quiet sense conveyed: + If I err not, thus it said:— + + 'Many feet in summer seek, + Oft, my far-appearing peak; + In the dreaded winter time, + None save dappling shadows climb, + Under clouds, my lonely head, + Old as the sun, old almost as the shade; + And comest thou + To see strange forests and new snow, + And tread uplifted land? + And leavest thou thy lowland race, + Here amid clouds to stand? + And wouldst be my companion + Where I gaze, and still shall gaze, + Through tempering nights and flashing days, + When forests fall, and man is gone, + Over tribes and over times, + At the burning Lyre, + Nearing me, + With its stars of northern fire, + In many a thousand years? + + 'Gentle pilgrim, if thou know + The gamut old of Pan, + And how the hills began, + The frank blessings of the hill + Fall on thee, as fall they will. + + 'Let him heed who can and will; + Enchantment fixed me here + To stand the hurts of time, until + In mightier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest + How the chemic eddies play, + Pole to pole, and what they say; + And that these gray crags + Not on crags are hung, + But beads are of a rosary + On prayer and music strung; + And, credulous, through the granite seeming, + Seest the smile of Reason beaming;— + Can thy style-discerning eye + The hidden-working Builder spy, + Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din, + With hammer soft as snowflake's flight;— + Knowest thou this? + O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! + Already my rocks lie light, + And soon my cone will spin. + + 'For the world was built in order, + And the atoms march in tune; + Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, + The sun obeys them and the moon. + Orb and atom forth they prance, + When they hear from far the rune; + None so backward in the troop, + When the music and the dance + Reach his place and circumstance, + But knows the sun-creating sound, + And, though a pyramid, will bound. + + 'Monadnoc is a mountain strong, + Tall and good my kind among; + But well I know, no mountain can, + Zion or Meru, measure with man. + For it is on zodiacs writ, + Adamant is soft to wit: + And when the greater comes again + With my secret in his brain, + I shall pass, as glides my shadow + Daily over hill and meadow. + + 'Through all time, in light, in gloom + Well I hear the approaching feet + On the flinty pathway beat + Of him that cometh, and shall come; + Of him who shall as lightly bear + My daily load of woods and streams, + As doth this round sky-cleaving boat + Which never strains its rocky beams; + Whose timbers, as they silent float, + Alps and Caucasus uprear, + And the long Alleghanies here, + And all town-sprinkled lands that be, + Sailing through stars with all their history. + + 'Every morn I lift my head, + See New England underspread, + South from Saint Lawrence to the Sound, + From Katskill east to the sea-bound. + Anchored fast for many an age, + I await the bard and sage, + Who, in large thoughts, like fair pearl-seed, + Shall string Monadnoc like a bead. + Comes that cheerful troubadour, + This mound shall throb his face before, + As when, with inward fires and pain, + It rose a bubble from the plain. + When he cometh, I shall shed, + From this wellspring in my head, + Fountain-drop of spicier worth + Than all vintage of the earth. + There's fruit upon my barren soil + Costlier far than wine or oil. + There's a berry blue and gold,— + Autumn-ripe, its juices hold + Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart, + Asia's rancor, Athens' art, + Slowsure Britain's secular might, + And the German's inward sight. + I will give my son to eat + Best of Pan's immortal meat, + Bread to eat, and juice to drain; + So the coinage of his brain + Shall not be forms of stars, but stars, + Nor pictures pale, but Jove and Mars, + He comes, but not of that race bred + Who daily climb my specular head. + Oft as morning wreathes my scarf, + Fled the last plumule of the Dark, + Pants up hither the spruce clerk + From South Cove and City Wharf. + I take him up my rugged sides, + Half-repentant, scant of breath,— + Bead-eyes my granite chaos show, + And my midsummer snow: + Open the daunting map beneath,— + All his county, sea and land, + Dwarfed to measure of his hand; + His day's ride is a furlong space, + His city-tops a glimmering haze. + I plant his eyes on the sky-hoop bounding; + "See there the grim gray rounding + Of the bullet of the earth + Whereon ye sail, + Tumbling steep + In the uncontinented deep." + He looks on that, and he turns pale. + 'T is even so, this treacherous kite, + Farm-furrowed, town-incrusted sphere, + Thoughtless of its anxious freight, + Plunges eyeless on forever; + And he, poor parasite, + Cooped in a ship he cannot steer,— + Who is the captain he knows not, + Port or pilot trows not,— + Risk or ruin he must share. + I scowl on him with my cloud, + With my north wind chill his blood; + I lame him, clattering down the rocks; + And to live he is in fear. + Then, at last, I let him down + Once more into his dapper town, + To chatter, frightened, to his clan + And forget me if he can.' + + As in the old poetic fame + The gods are blind and lame, + And the simular despite + Betrays the more abounding might, + So call not waste that barren cone + Above the floral zone, + Where forests starve: + It is pure use;— + What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind + Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse? + + Ages are thy days, + Thou grand affirmer of the present tense, + And type of permanence! + Firm ensign of the fatal Being, + Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief, + That will not bide the seeing! + + Hither we bring + Our insect miseries to thy rocks; + And the whole flight, with folded wing, + Vanish, and end their murmuring,— + Vanish beside these dedicated blocks, + Which who can tell what mason laid? + Spoils of a front none need restore, + Replacing frieze and architrave;— + Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave; + Still is the haughty pile erect + Of the old building Intellect. + + Complement of human kind, + Holding us at vantage still, + Our sumptuous indigence, + O barren mound, thy plenties fill! + We fool and prate; + Thou art silent and sedate. + To myriad kinds and times one sense + The constant mountain doth dispense; + Shedding on all its snows and leaves, + One joy it joys, one grief it grieves. + Thou seest, O watchman tall, + Our towns and races grow and fall, + And imagest the stable good + For which we all our lifetime grope, + In shifting form the formless mind, + And though the substance us elude, + We in thee the shadow find. + Thou, in our astronomy + An opaker star, + Seen haply from afar, + Above the horizon's hoop, + A moment, by the railway troop, + As o'er some bolder height they speed,— + By circumspect ambition, + By errant gain, + By feasters and the frivolous,— + Recallest us, + And makest sane. + Mute orator! well skilled to plead, + And send conviction without phrase, + Thou dost succor and remede + The shortness of our days, + And promise, on thy Founder's truth, + Long morrow to this mortal youth. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FABLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; + Bun replied, + 'You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere. + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING + + Though loath to grieve + The evil time's sole patriot, + I cannot leave + My honied thought + For the priest's cant, + Or statesman's rant. + + If I refuse + My study for their politique, + Which at the best is trick, + The angry Muse + Puts confusion in my brain. + + But who is he that prates + Of the culture of mankind, + Of better arts and life? + Go, blindworm, go, + Behold the famous States + Harrying Mexico + With rifle and with knife! + + Or who, with accent bolder, + Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer? + I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook! + And in thy valleys, Agiochook! + The jackals of the negro-holder. + + The God who made New Hampshire + Taunted the lofty land + With little men;— + Small bat and wren + House in the oak:— + If earth-fire cleave + The upheaved land, and bury the folk, + The southern crocodile would grieve. + Virtue palters; Right is hence; + Freedom praised, but hid; + Funeral eloquence + Rattles the coffin-lid. + + What boots thy zeal, + O glowing friend, + That would indignant rend + The northland from the south? + Wherefore? to what good end? + Boston Bay and Bunker Hill + Would serve things still;— + Things are of the snake. + + The horseman serves the horse, + The neatherd serves the neat, + The merchant serves the purse, + The eater serves his meat; + 'T is the day of the chattel, + Web to weave, and corn to grind; + Things are in the saddle, + And ride mankind. + + There are two laws discrete, + Not reconciled,— + Law for man, and law for thing; + The last builds town and fleet, + But it runs wild, + And doth the man unking. + + 'T is fit the forest fall, + The steep be graded, + The mountain tunnelled, + The sand shaded, + The orchard planted, + The glebe tilled, + The prairie granted, + The steamer built. + + Let man serve law for man; + Live for friendship, live for love, + For truth's and harmony's behoof; + The state may follow how it can, + As Olympus follows Jove. + + Yet do not I implore + The wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods, + Nor bid the unwilling senator + Ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes. + Every one to his chosen work;— + Foolish hands may mix and mar; + Wise and sure the issues are. + Round they roll till dark is light, + Sex to sex, and even to odd;— + The over-god + Who marries Right to Might, + Who peoples, unpeoples,— + He who exterminates + Races by stronger races, + Black by white faces,— + Knows to bring honey + Out of the lion; + Grafts gentlest scion + On pirate and Turk. + + The Cossack eats Poland, + Like stolen fruit; + Her last noble is ruined, + Her last poet mute: + Straight, into double band + The victors divide; + Half for freedom strike and stand;— + The astonished Muse finds thousands at her side. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ASTRAEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each the herald is who wrote + His rank, and quartered his own coat. + There is no king nor sovereign state + That can fix a hero's rate; + Each to all is venerable, + Cap-a-pie invulnerable, + Until he write, where all eyes rest, + Slave or master on his breast. + I saw men go up and down, + In the country and the town, + With this tablet on their neck, + 'Judgment and a judge we seek.' + Not to monarchs they repair, + Nor to learned jurist's chair; + But they hurry to their peers, + To their kinsfolk and their dears; + Louder than with speech they pray,— + 'What am I? companion, say.' + And the friend not hesitates + To assign just place and mates; + Answers not in word or letter, + Yet is understood the better; + Each to each a looking-glass, + Reflects his figure that doth pass. + Every wayfarer he meets + What himself declared repeats, + What himself confessed records, + Sentences him in his words; + The form is his own corporal form, + And his thought the penal worm. + Yet shine forever virgin minds, + Loved by stars and purest winds, + Which, o'er passion throned sedate, + Have not hazarded their state; + Disconcert the searching spy, + Rendering to a curious eye + The durance of a granite ledge. + To those who gaze from the sea's edge + It is there for benefit; + It is there for purging light; + There for purifying storms; + And its depths reflect all forms; + It cannot parley with the mean,— + Pure by impure is not seen. + For there's no sequestered grot, + Lone mountain tarn, or isle forgot, + But Justice, journeying in the sphere, + Daily stoops to harbor there. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE + + I serve you not, if you I follow, + Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; + And bend my fancy to your leading, + All too nimble for my treading. + When the pilgrimage is done, + And we've the landscape overrun, + I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, + And your heart is unsupported. + Vainly valiant, you have missed + The manhood that should yours resist,— + Its complement; but if I could, + In severe or cordial mood, + Lead you rightly to my altar, + Where the wisest Muses falter, + And worship that world-warming spark + Which dazzles me in midnight dark, + Equalizing small and large, + While the soul it doth surcharge, + Till the poor is wealthy grown, + And the hermit never alone,— + The traveller and the road seem one + With the errand to be done,— + That were a man's and lover's part, + That were Freedom's whitest chart. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why should I keep holiday + When other men have none? + Why but because, when these are gay, + I sit and mourn alone? + + And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, + Should mine alone be dumb? + Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, + And now their hour is come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORBEARANCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? + At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? + Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? + And loved so well a high behavior, + In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, + Nobility more nobly to repay? + O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The prosperous and beautiful + To me seem not to wear + The yoke of conscience masterful, + Which galls me everywhere. + + I cannot shake off the god; + On my neck he makes his seat; + I look at my face in the glass,— + My eyes his eyeballs meet. + + Enchanters! Enchantresses! + Your gold makes you seem wise; + The morning mist within your grounds + More proudly rolls, more softly lies. + + Yet spake yon purple mountain, + Yet said yon ancient wood, + That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, + Leads all souls to the Good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORERUNNERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Long I followed happy guides, + I could never reach their sides; + Their step is forth, and, ere the day + Breaks up their leaguer, and away. + Keen my sense, my heart was young, + Right good-will my sinews strung, + But no speed of mine avails + To hunt upon their shining trails. + On and away, their hasting feet + Make the morning proud and sweet; + Flowers they strew,—I catch the scent; + Or tone of silver instrument + Leaves on the wind melodious trace; + Yet I could never see their face. + On eastern hills I see their smokes, + Mixed with mist by distant lochs. + I met many travellers + Who the road had surely kept; + They saw not my fine revellers,— + These had crossed them while they slept. + Some had heard their fair report, + In the country or the court. + Fleetest couriers alive + Never yet could once arrive, + As they went or they returned, + At the house where these sojourned. + Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, + Though they are not overtaken; + In sleep their jubilant troop is near,— + I tuneful voices overhear; + It may be in wood or waste,— + At unawares 't is come and past. + Their near camp my spirit knows + By signs gracious as rainbows. + I thenceforward and long after + Listen for their harp-like laughter, + And carry in my heart, for days, + Peace that hallows rudest ways. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SURSUM CORDA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Seek not the spirit, if it hide + Inexorable to thy zeal: + Trembler, do not whine and chide: + Art thou not also real? + Stoop not then to poor excuse; + Turn on the accuser roundly; say, + 'Here am I, here will I abide + Forever to myself soothfast; + Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' + Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, + For only it can absolutely deal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE TO BEAUTY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who gave thee, O Beauty, + The keys of this breast,— + Too credulous lover + Of blest and unblest? + Say, when in lapsed ages + Thee knew I of old? + Or what was the service + For which I was sold? + When first my eyes saw thee, + I found me thy thrall, + By magical drawings, + Sweet tyrant of all! + I drank at thy fountain + False waters of thirst; + Thou intimate stranger, + Thou latest and first! + Thy dangerous glances + Make women of men; + New-born, we are melting + Into nature again. + + Lavish, lavish promiser, + Nigh persuading gods to err! + Guest of million painted forms, + Which in turn thy glory warms! + The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, + The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, + The swinging spider's silver line, + The ruby of the drop of wine, + The shining pebble of the pond, + Thou inscribest with a bond, + In thy momentary play, + Would bankrupt nature to repay. + + Ah, what avails it + To hide or to shun + Whom the Infinite One + Hath granted his throne? + The heaven high over + Is the deep's lover; + The sun and sea, + Informed by thee, + Before me run + And draw me on, + Yet fly me still, + As Fate refuses + To me the heart Fate for me chooses. + Is it that my opulent soul + Was mingled from the generous whole; + Sea-valleys and the deep of skies + Furnished several supplies; + And the sands whereof I'm made + Draw me to them, self-betrayed? + + I turn the proud portfolio + Which holds the grand designs + Of Salvator, of Guercino, + And Piranesi's lines. + I hear the lofty paeans + Of the masters of the shell, + Who heard the starry music + And recount the numbers well; + Olympian bards who sung + Divine Ideas below, + Which always find us young + And always keep us so. + Oft, in streets or humblest places, + I detect far-wandered graces, + Which, from Eden wide astray, + In lowly homes have lost their way. + + Thee gliding through the sea of form, + Like the lightning through the storm, + Somewhat not to be possessed, + Somewhat not to be caressed, + No feet so fleet could ever find, + No perfect form could ever bind. + Thou eternal fugitive, + Hovering over all that live, + Quick and skilful to inspire + Sweet, extravagant desire, + Starry space and lily-bell + Filling with thy roseate smell, + Wilt not give the lips to taste + Of the nectar which thou hast. + + All that's good and great with thee + Works in close conspiracy; + Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely + To report thy features only, + And the cold and purple morning + Itself with thoughts of thee adorning; + The leafy dell, the city mart, + Equal trophies of thine art; + E'en the flowing azure air + Thou hast touched for my despair; + And, if I languish into dreams, + Again I meet the ardent beams. + Queen of things! I dare not die + In Being's deeps past ear and eye; + Lest there I find the same deceiver + And be the sport of Fate forever. + Dread Power, but dear! if God thou be, + Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIVE ALL TO LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give all to love; + Obey thy heart; + Friends, kindred, days, + Estate, good-fame, + Plans, credit and the Muse,— + Nothing refuse. + + 'T is a brave master; + Let it have scope: + Follow it utterly, + Hope beyond hope: + High and more high + It dives into noon, + With wing unspent, + Untold intent; + But it is a god, + Knows its own path + And the outlets of the sky. + + It was never for the mean; + It requireth courage stout. + Souls above doubt, + Valor unbending, + It will reward,— + They shall return + More than they were, + And ever ascending. + + Leave all for love; + Yet, hear me, yet, + One word more thy heart behoved, + One pulse more of firm endeavor,— + Keep thee to-day, + To-morrow, forever, + Free as an Arab + Of thy beloved. + + Cling with life to the maid; + But when the surprise, + First vague shadow of surmise + Flits across her bosom young, + Of a joy apart from thee, + Free be she, fancy-free; + Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, + Nor the palest rose she flung + From her summer diadem. + + Though thou loved her as thyself, + As a self of purer clay, + Though her parting dims the day, + Stealing grace from all alive; + Heartily know, + When half-gods go. + The gods arrive. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The green grass is bowing, + The morning wind is in it; + 'T is a tune worth thy knowing, + Though it change every minute. + + 'T is a tune of the Spring; + Every year plays it over + To the robin on the wing, + And to the pausing lover. + + O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, + Goes light the nimble zephyr; + The Flowers—tiny sect of Shakers— + Worship him ever. + + Hark to the winning sound! + They summon thee, dearest,— + Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, + Nor yet thou appearest. + + 'O hasten;' 't is our time, + Ere yet the red Summer + Scorch our delicate prime, + Loved of bee,—the tawny hummer. + + 'O pride of thy race! + Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, + If our brief tribe miss thy face, + We poor New England flowers. + + 'Fairest, choose the fairest members + Of our lithe society; + June's glories and September's + Show our love and piety. + + 'Thou shalt command us all,— + April's cowslip, summer's clover, + To the gentian in the fall, + Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. + + 'O come, then, quickly come! + We are budding, we are blowing; + And the wind that we perfume + Sings a tune that's worth the knowing.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO ELLEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And Ellen, when the graybeard years + Have brought us to life's evening hour, + And all the crowded Past appears + A tiny scene of sun and shower, + + Then, if I read the page aright + Where Hope, the soothsayer, reads our lot, + Thyself shalt own the page was bright, + Well that we loved, woe had we not, + + When Mirth is dumb and Flattery's fled, + And mute thy music's dearest tone, + When all but Love itself is dead + And all but deathless Reason gone. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO EVA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O fair and stately maid, whose eyes + Were kindled in the upper skies + At the same torch that lighted mine; + For so I must interpret still + Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, + A sympathy divine. + + Ah! let me blameless gaze upon + Features that seem at heart my own; + Nor fear those watchful sentinels, + Who charm the more their glance forbids, + Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, + With fire that draws while it repels. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LINES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WRITTEN BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER SHORTLY BEFORE + HER MARRIAGE TO MR. EMERSON + + Love scatters oil + On Life's dark sea, + Sweetens its toil— + Our helmsman he. + + Around him hover + Odorous clouds; + Under this cover + His arrows he shrouds. + + The cloud was around me, + I knew not why + Such sweetness crowned me. + While Time shot by. + + No pain was within, + But calm delight, + Like a world without sin, + Or a day without night. + + The shafts of the god + Were tipped with down, + For they drew no blood, + And they knit no frown. + + I knew of them not + Until Cupid laughed loud, + And saying "You're caught!" + Flew off in the cloud. + + O then I awoke, + And I lived but to sigh, + Till a clear voice spoke,— + And my tears are dry. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VIOLET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER + + Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; + Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; + Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, + Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? + + Why wilt thou live when none around reflects thy pensive ray? + Thou bloomest here a lonely thing in the clear autumn day. + The tall green trees, that shelter thee, their last gay dress put on; + There will be nought to shelter thee when their sweet leaves are gone. + + O Violet, like thee, how blest could I lie down and die, + When summer light is fading, and autumn breezes sigh; + When Winter reigned I'd close my eye, but wake with bursting Spring, + And live with living nature, a pure rejoicing thing. + + I had a sister once who seemed just like a violet; + Her morning sun shone bright and calmly purely set; + When the violets were in their shrouds, and Summer in its pride, + She laid her hopes at rest, and in the year's rich beauty died. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMULET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; + Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings <i>since</i> it came. + + Give me an amulet + That keeps intelligence with you,— + Red when you love, and rosier red, + And when you love not, pale and blue. + + Alas! that neither bonds nor vows + Can certify possession; + Torments me still the fear that love + Died in its last expression. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THINE EYES STILL SHINED + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + I lonely roved the land or sea: + As I behold yon evening star, + Which yet beholds not me. + + This morn I climbed the misty hill + And roamed the pastures through; + How danced thy form before my path + Amidst the deep-eyed dew! + + When the redbird spread his sable wing, + And showed his side of flame; + When the rosebud ripened to the rose, + In both I read thy name. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EROS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sense of the world is short,— + Long and various the report,— + To love and be beloved; + Men and gods have not outlearned it; + And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, + Not to be improved. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HERMIONE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On a mound an Arab lay, + And sung his sweet regrets + And told his amulets: + The summer bird + His sorrow heard, + And, when he heaved a sigh profound, + The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. + + 'If it be, as they said, she was not fair, + Beauty's not beautiful to me, + But sceptred genius, aye inorbed, + Culminating in her sphere. + This Hermione absorbed + The lustre of the land and ocean, + Hills and islands, cloud and tree, + In her form and motion. + + 'I ask no bauble miniature, + Nor ringlets dead + Shorn from her comely head, + Now that morning not disdains + Mountains and the misty plains + Her colossal portraiture; + They her heralds be, + Steeped in her quality, + And singers of her fame + Who is their Muse and dame. + + 'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say. + Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, + Say, was it just, + In thee to frame, in me to trust, + Thou to the Syrian couldst belong? + + 'I am of a lineage + That each for each doth fast engage; + In old Bassora's schools, I seemed + Hermit vowed to books and gloom,— + Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom. + I was by thy touch redeemed; + When thy meteor glances came, + We talked at large of worldly fate, + And drew truly every trait. + + 'Once I dwelt apart, + Now I live with all; + As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side + Seems, by the traveller espied, + A door into the mountain heart, + So didst thou quarry and unlock + Highways for me through the rock. + + 'Now, deceived, thou wanderest + In strange lands unblest; + And my kindred come to soothe me. + Southwind is my next of blood; + He is come through fragrant wood, + Drugged with spice from climates warm, + And in every twinkling glade, + And twilight nook, + Unveils thy form. + Out of the forest way + Forth paced it yesterday; + And when I sat by the watercourse, + Watching the daylight fade, + It throbbed up from the brook. + + 'River and rose and crag and bird, + Frost and sun and eldest night, + To me their aid preferred, + To me their comfort plight;— + "Courage! we are thine allies, + And with this hint be wise,— + The chains of kind + The distant bind; + Deed thou doest she must do, + Above her will, be true; + And, in her strict resort + To winds and waterfalls + And autumn's sunlit festivals, + To music, and to music's thought, + Inextricably bound, + She shall find thee, and be found. + Follow not her flying feet; + Come to us herself to meet."' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + + Venus, when her son was lost, + Cried him up and down the coast, + In hamlets, palaces and parks, + And told the truant by his marks,— + Golden curls, and quiver and bow. + This befell how long ago! + Time and tide are strangely changed, + Men and manners much deranged: + None will now find Cupid latent + By this foolish antique patent. + He came late along the waste, + Shod like a traveller for haste; + With malice dared me to proclaim him, + That the maids and boys might name him. + + Boy no more, he wears all coats, + Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; + He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, + Nor chaplet on his head or hand. + Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,— + All the rest he can disguise. + In the pit of his eye's a spark + Would bring back day if it were dark; + And, if I tell you all my thought, + Though I comprehend it not, + In those unfathomable orbs + Every function he absorbs; + Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, + And write, and reason, and compute, + And ride, and run, and have, and hold, + And whine, and flatter, and regret, + And kiss, and couple, and beget, + By those roving eyeballs bold. + + Undaunted are their courages, + Right Cossacks in their forages; + Fleeter they than any creature,— + They are his steeds, and not his feature; + Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, + Restless, predatory, hasting; + And they pounce on other eyes + As lions on their prey; + And round their circles is writ, + Plainer than the day, + Underneath, within, above,— + Love—love—love—love. + He lives in his eyes; + There doth digest, and work, and spin, + And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; + He rolls them with delighted motion, + Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean. + Yet holds he them with tautest rein, + That they may seize and entertain + The glance that to their glance opposes, + Like fiery honey sucked from roses. + He palmistry can understand, + Imbibing virtue by his hand + As if it were a living root; + The pulse of hands will make him mute; + With all his force he gathers balms + Into those wise, thrilling palms. + + Cupid is a casuist, + A mystic and a cabalist,— + Can your lurking thought surprise, + And interpret your device. + He is versed in occult science, + In magic and in clairvoyance, + Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, + And Reason on her tiptoe pained + For aëry intelligence, + And for strange coincidence. + But it touches his quick heart + When Fate by omens takes his part, + And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere + Deeply soothe his anxious ear. + + Heralds high before him run; + He has ushers many a one; + He spreads his welcome where he goes, + And touches all things with his rose. + All things wait for and divine him,— + How shall I dare to malign him, + Or accuse the god of sport? + I must end my true report, + Painting him from head to foot, + In as far as I took note, + Trusting well the matchless power + Of this young-eyed emperor + Will clear his fame from every cloud + With the bards and with the crowd. + + He is wilful, mutable, + Shy, untamed, inscrutable, + Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. + Substance mixed of pure contraries; + His vice some elder virtue's token, + And his good is evil-spoken. + Failing sometimes of his own, + He is headstrong and alone; + He affects the wood and wild, + Like a flower-hunting child; + Buries himself in summer waves, + In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, + Loves nature like a hornèd cow, + Bird, or deer, or caribou. + + Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses! + He has a total world of wit; + O how wise are his discourses! + But he is the arch-hypocrite, + And, through all science and all art, + Seeks alone his counterpart. + He is a Pundit of the East, + He is an augur and a priest, + And his soul will melt in prayer, + But word and wisdom is a snare; + Corrupted by the present toy + He follows joy, and only joy. + There is no mask but he will wear; + He invented oaths to swear; + He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, + And holds all stars in his embrace. + He takes a sovran privilege + Not allowed to any liege; + For Cupid goes behind all law, + And right into himself does draw; + For he is sovereignly allied,— + Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,— + And interchangeably at one + With every king on every throne, + That no god dare say him nay, + Or see the fault, or seen betray; + He has the Muses by the heart, + And the stern Parcae on his part. + + His many signs cannot be told; + He has not one mode, but manifold, + Many fashions and addresses, + Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses. + He will preach like a friar, + And jump like Harlequin; + He will read like a crier, + And fight like a Paladin. + Boundless is his memory; + Plans immense his term prolong; + He is not of counted age, + Meaning always to be young. + And his wish is intimacy, + Intimater intimacy, + And a stricter privacy; + The impossible shall yet be done, + And, being two, shall still be one. + As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, + Then runs into a wave again, + So lovers melt their sundered selves, + Yet melted would be twain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Man was made of social earth, + Child and brother from his birth, + Tethered by a liquid cord + Of blood through veins of kindred poured. + Next his heart the fireside band + Of mother, father, sister, stand; + Names from awful childhood heard + Throbs of a wild religion stirred;— + Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; + Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, + Till Beauty came to snap all ties; + The maid, abolishing the past, + With lotus wine obliterates + Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, + And, by herself, supplants alone + Friends year by year more inly known. + When her calm eyes opened bright, + All else grew foreign in their light. + It was ever the self-same tale, + The first experience will not fail; + Only two in the garden walked, + And with snake and seraph talked. + + Close, close to men, + Like undulating layer of air, + Right above their heads, + The potent plain of Daemons spreads. + Stands to each human soul its own, + For watch and ward and furtherance, + In the snares of Nature's dance; + And the lustre and the grace + To fascinate each youthful heart, + Beaming from its counterpart, + Translucent through the mortal covers, + Is the Daemon's form and face. + To and fro the Genius hies,— + A gleam which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head, + And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. + Unknown, albeit lying near, + To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; + And they that swiftly come and go + Leave no track on the heavenly snow. + Sometimes the airy synod bends, + And the mighty choir descends, + And the brains of men thenceforth, + In crowded and in still resorts, + Teem with unwonted thoughts: + As, when a shower of meteors + Cross the orbit of the earth, + And, lit by fringent air, + Blaze near and far, + Mortals deem the planets bright + Have slipped their sacred bars, + And the lone seaman all the night + Sails, astonished, amid stars. + + Beauty of a richer vein, + Graces of a subtler strain, + Unto men these moonmen lend, + And our shrinking sky extend. + So is man's narrow path + By strength and terror skirted; + Also (from the song the wrath + Of the Genii be averted! + The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) + The Daemons are self-seeking: + Their fierce and limitary will + Draws men to their likeness still. + The erring painter made Love blind,— + Highest Love who shines on all; + Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted god, + None can bewilder; + Whose eyes pierce + The universe, + Path-finder, road-builder, + Mediator, royal giver; + Rightly seeing, rightly seen, + Of joyful and transparent mien. + 'T is a sparkle passing + From each to each, from thee to me, + To and fro perpetually; + Sharing all, daring all, + Levelling, displacing + Each obstruction, it unites + Equals remote, and seeming opposites. + And ever and forever Love + Delights to build a road: + Unheeded Danger near him strides, + Love laughs, and on a lion rides. + But Cupid wears another face, + Born into Daemons less divine: + His roses bleach apace, + His nectar smacks of wine. + The Daemon ever builds a wall, + Himself encloses and includes, + Solitude in solitudes: + In like sort his love doth fall. + He doth elect + The beautiful and fortunate, + And the sons of intellect, + And the souls of ample fate, + Who the Future's gates unbar,— + Minions of the Morning Star. + In his prowess he exults, + And the multitude insults. + His impatient looks devour + Oft the humble and the poor; + And, seeing his eye glare, + They drop their few pale flowers, + Gathered with hope to please, + Along the mountain towers,— + Lose courage, and despair. + He will never be gainsaid,— + Pitiless, will not be stayed; + His hot tyranny + Burns up every other tie. + Therefore comes an hour from Jove + Which his ruthless will defies, + And the dogs of Fate unties. + Shiver the palaces of glass; + Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, + Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt + Secure as in the zodiac's belt; + And the galleries and halls, + Wherein every siren sung, + Like a meteor pass. + For this fortune wanted root + In the core of God's abysm,— + Was a weed of self and schism; + And ever the Daemonic Love + Is the ancestor of wars + And the parent of remorse. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But God said, + 'I will have a purer gift; + There is smoke in the flame; + New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, + And love without a name. + Fond children, ye desire + To please each other well; + Another round, a higher, + Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, + And selfish preference forbear; + And in right deserving, + And without a swerving + Each from your proper state, + Weave roses for your mate. + + 'Deep, deep are loving eyes, + Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet; + And the point is paradise, + Where their glances meet: + Their reach shall yet be more profound, + And a vision without bound: + The axis of those eyes sun-clear + Be the axis of the sphere: + So shall the lights ye pour amain + Go, without check or intervals, + Through from the empyrean walls + Unto the same again.' + + Higher far into the pure realm, + Over sun and star, + Over the flickering Daemon film, + Thou must mount for love; + Into vision where all form + In one only form dissolves; + In a region where the wheel + On which all beings ride + Visibly revolves; + Where the starred, eternal worm + Girds the world with bound and term; + Where unlike things are like; + Where good and ill, + And joy and moan, + Melt into one. + + There Past, Present, Future, shoot + Triple blossoms from one root; + Substances at base divided, + In their summits are united; + There the holy essence rolls, + One through separated souls; + And the sunny Aeon sleeps + Folding Nature in its deeps, + And every fair and every good, + Known in part, or known impure, + To men below, + In their archetypes endure. + The race of gods, + Or those we erring own, + Are shadows flitting up and down + In the still abodes. + The circles of that sea are laws + Which publish and which hide the cause. + + Pray for a beam + Out of that sphere, + Thee to guide and to redeem. + O, what a load + Of care and toil, + By lying use bestowed, + From his shoulders falls who sees + The true astronomy, + The period of peace. + Counsel which the ages kept + Shall the well-born soul accept. + As the overhanging trees + Fill the lake with images,— + As garment draws the garment's hem, + Men their fortunes bring with them. + By right or wrong, + Lands and goods go to the strong. + Property will brutely draw + Still to the proprietor; + Silver to silver creep and wind, + And kind to kind. + + Nor less the eternal poles + Of tendency distribute souls. + There need no vows to bind + Whom not each other seek, but find. + They give and take no pledge or oath,— + Nature is the bond of both: + No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,— + Their noble meanings are their pawns. + Plain and cold is their address, + Power have they for tenderness; + And, so thoroughly is known + Each other's counsel by his own, + They can parley without meeting; + Need is none of forms of greeting; + They can well communicate + In their innermost estate; + When each the other shall avoid, + Shall each by each be most enjoyed. + + Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves + Do these celebrate their loves: + Not by jewels, feasts and savors, + Not by ribbons or by favors, + But by the sun-spark on the sea, + And the cloud-shadow on the lea, + The soothing lapse of morn to mirk, + And the cheerful round of work. + Their cords of love so public are, + They intertwine the farthest star: + The throbbing sea, the quaking earth, + Yield sympathy and signs of mirth; + Is none so high, so mean is none, + But feels and seals this union; + Even the fell Furies are appeased, + The good applaud, the lost are eased. + + Love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, + Bound for the just, but not beyond; + Not glad, as the low-loving herd, + Of self in other still preferred, + But they have heartily designed + The benefit of broad mankind. + And they serve men austerely, + After their own genius, clearly, + Without a false humility; + For this is Love's nobility,— + Not to scatter bread and gold, + Goods and raiment bought and sold; + But to hold fast his simple sense, + And speak the speech of innocence, + And with hand and body and blood, + To make his bosom-counsel good. + He that feeds men serveth few; + He serves all who dares be true. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE APOLOGY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Think me not unkind and rude + That I walk alone in grove and glen; + I go to the god of the wood + To fetch his word to men. + + Tax not my sloth that I + Fold my arms beside the brook; + Each cloud that floated in the sky + Writes a letter in my book. + + Chide me not, laborious band, + For the idle flowers I brought; + Every aster in my hand + Goes home loaded with a thought. + + There was never mystery + But 'tis figured in the flowers; + Was never secret history + But birds tell it in the bowers. + + One harvest from thy field + Homeward brought the oxen strong; + A second crop thine acres yield, + Which I gather in a song. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy trivial harp will never please + Or fill my craving ear; + Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, + Free, peremptory, clear. + No jingling serenader's art, + Nor tinkle of piano strings, + Can make the wild blood start + In its mystic springs. + The kingly bard + Must smite the chords rudely and hard, + As with hammer or with mace; + That they may render back + Artful thunder, which conveys + Secrets of the solar track, + Sparks of the supersolar blaze. + Merlin's blows are strokes of fate, + Chiming with the forest tone, + When boughs buffet boughs in the wood; + Chiming with the gasp and moan + Of the ice-imprisoned flood; + With the pulse of manly hearts; + With the voice of orators; + With the din of city arts; + With the cannonade of wars; + With the marches of the brave; + And prayers of might from martyrs' cave. + + Great is the art, + Great be the manners, of the bard. + He shall not his brain encumber + With the coil of rhythm and number; + But, leaving rule and pale forethought, + He shall aye climb + For his rhyme. + 'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, + 'In to the upper doors, + Nor count compartments of the floors, + But mount to paradise + By the stairway of surprise.' + + Blameless master of the games, + King of sport that never shames, + He shall daily joy dispense + Hid in song's sweet influence. + Forms more cheerly live and go, + What time the subtle mind + Sings aloud the tune whereto + Their pulses beat, + And march their feet, + And their members are combined. + + By Sybarites beguiled, + He shall no task decline; + Merlin's mighty line + Extremes of nature reconciled,— + Bereaved a tyrant of his will, + And made the lion mild. + Songs can the tempest still, + Scattered on the stormy air, + Mould the year to fair increase, + And bring in poetic peace. + + He shall not seek to weave, + In weak, unhappy times, + Efficacious rhymes; + Wait his returning strength. + Bird that from the nadir's floor + To the zenith's top can soar,— + The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length. + Nor profane affect to hit + Or compass that, by meddling wit, + Which only the propitious mind + Publishes when 't is inclined. + There are open hours + When the God's will sallies free, + And the dull idiot might see + The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;— + Sudden, at unawares, + Self-moved, fly-to the doors. + Nor sword of angels could reveal + What they conceal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The rhyme of the poet + Modulates the king's affairs; + Balance-loving Nature + Made all things in pairs. + To every foot its antipode; + Each color with its counter glowed; + To every tone beat answering tones, + Higher or graver; + Flavor gladly blends with flavor; + Leaf answers leaf upon the bough; + And match the paired cotyledons. + Hands to hands, and feet to feet, + In one body grooms and brides; + Eldest rite, two married sides + In every mortal meet. + Light's far furnace shines, + Smelting balls and bars, + Forging double stars, + Glittering twins and trines. + The animals are sick with love, + Lovesick with rhyme; + Each with all propitious Time + Into chorus wove. + + Like the dancers' ordered band, + Thoughts come also hand in hand; + In equal couples mated, + Or else alternated; + Adding by their mutual gage, + One to other, health and age. + Solitary fancies go + Short-lived wandering to and fro, + Most like to bachelors, + Or an ungiven maid, + Not ancestors, + With no posterity to make the lie afraid, + Or keep truth undecayed. + Perfect-paired as eagle's wings, + Justice is the rhyme of things; + Trade and counting use + The self-same tuneful muse; + And Nemesis, + Who with even matches odd, + Who athwart space redresses + The partial wrong, + Fills the just period, + And finishes the song. + + Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife, + Murmur in the house of life, + Sung by the Sisters as they spin; + In perfect time and measure they + Build and unbuild our echoing clay. + As the two twilights of the day + Fold us music-drunken in. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BACCHUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bring me wine, but wine which never grew + In the belly of the grape, + Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through, + Under the Andes to the Cape, + Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. + + Let its grapes the morn salute + From a nocturnal root, + Which feels the acrid juice + Of Styx and Erebus; + And turns the woe of Night, + By its own craft, to a more rich delight. + + We buy ashes for bread; + We buy diluted wine; + Give me of the true,— + Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled + Among the silver hills of heaven + Draw everlasting dew; + Wine of wine, + Blood of the world, + Form of forms, and mould of statures, + That I intoxicated, + And by the draught assimilated, + May float at pleasure through all natures; + The bird-language rightly spell, + And that which roses say so well. + + Wine that is shed + Like the torrents of the sun + Up the horizon walls, + Or like the Atlantic streams, which run + When the South Sea calls. + + Water and bread, + Food which needs no transmuting, + Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, + Wine which is already man, + Food which teach and reason can. + + Wine which Music is,— + Music and wine are one,— + That I, drinking this, + Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; + Kings unborn shall walk with me; + And the poor grass shall plot and plan + What it will do when it is man. + Quickened so, will I unlock + Every crypt of every rock. + + I thank the joyful juice + For all I know;— + Winds of remembering + Of the ancient being blow, + And seeming-solid walls of use + Open and flow. + + Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; + Retrieve the loss of me and mine! + Vine for vine be antidote, + And the grape requite the lote! + Haste to cure the old despair,— + Reason in Nature's lotus drenched, + The memory of ages quenched; + Give them again to shine; + Let wine repair what this undid; + And where the infection slid, + A dazzling memory revive; + Refresh the faded tints, + Recut the aged prints, + And write my old adventures with the pen + Which on the first day drew, + Upon the tablets blue, + The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEROPS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What care I, so they stand the same,— + Things of the heavenly mind,— + How long the power to give them name + Tarries yet behind? + + Thus far to-day your favors reach, + O fair, appeasing presences! + Ye taught my lips a single speech, + And a thousand silences. + + Space grants beyond his fated road + No inch to the god of day; + And copious language still bestowed + One word, no more, to say. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HOUSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is no architect + Can build as the Muse can; + She is skilful to select + Materials for her plan; + + Slow and warily to choose + Rafters of immortal pine, + Or cedar incorruptible, + Worthy her design, + + She threads dark Alpine forests + Or valleys by the sea, + In many lands, with painful steps, + Ere she can find a tree. + + She ransacks mines and ledges + And quarries every rock, + To hew the famous adamant + For each eternal block— + + She lays her beams in music, + In music every one, + To the cadence of the whirling world + Which dances round the sun— + + That so they shall not be displaced + By lapses or by wars, + But for the love of happy souls + Outlive the newest stars. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SAADI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Trees in groves, + Kine in droves, + In ocean sport the scaly herds, + Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, + To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, + Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, + Men consort in camp and town, + But the poet dwells alone. + + God, who gave to him the lyre, + Of all mortals the desire, + For all breathing men's behoof, + Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;' + Annexed a warning, poets say, + To the bright premium,— + Ever, when twain together play, + Shall the harp be dumb. + + Many may come, + But one shall sing; + Two touch the string, + The harp is dumb. + Though there come a million, + Wise Saadi dwells alone. + + Yet Saadi loved the race of men,— + No churl, immured in cave or den; + In bower and hall + He wants them all, + Nor can dispense + With Persia for his audience; + They must give ear, + Grow red with joy and white with fear; + But he has no companion; + Come ten, or come a million, + Good Saadi dwells alone. + + Be thou ware where Saadi dwells; + Wisdom of the gods is he,— + Entertain it reverently. + Gladly round that golden lamp + Sylvan deities encamp, + And simple maids and noble youth + Are welcome to the man of truth. + Most welcome they who need him most, + They feed the spring which they exhaust; + For greater need + Draws better deed: + But, critic, spare thy vanity, + Nor show thy pompous parts, + To vex with odious subtlety + The cheerer of men's hearts. + + Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say + Endless dirges to decay, + Never in the blaze of light + Lose the shudder of midnight; + Pale at overflowing noon + Hear wolves barking at the moon; + In the bower of dalliance sweet + Hear the far Avenger's feet: + And shake before those awful Powers, + Who in their pride forgive not ours. + Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach: + 'Bard, when thee would Allah teach, + And lift thee to his holy mount, + He sends thee from his bitter fount + Wormwood,—saying, "Go thy ways; + Drink not the Malaga of praise, + But do the deed thy fellows hate, + And compromise thy peaceful state; + Smite the white breasts which thee fed. + Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head + Of them thou shouldst have comforted; + For out of woe and out of crime + Draws the heart a lore sublime."' + And yet it seemeth not to me + That the high gods love tragedy; + For Saadi sat in the sun, + And thanks was his contrition; + For haircloth and for bloody whips, + Had active hands and smiling lips; + And yet his runes he rightly read, + And to his folk his message sped. + Sunshine in his heart transferred + Lighted each transparent word, + And well could honoring Persia learn + What Saadi wished to say; + For Saadi's nightly stars did burn + Brighter than Jami's day. + + Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot: + 'O gentle Saadi, listen not, + Tempted by thy praise of wit, + Or by thirst and appetite + For the talents not thine own, + To sons of contradiction. + Never, son of eastern morning, + Follow falsehood, follow scorning. + Denounce who will, who will deny, + And pile the hills to scale the sky; + Let theist, atheist, pantheist, + Define and wrangle how they list, + Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,— + But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer, + Unknowing war, unknowing crime, + Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme; + Heed not what the brawlers say, + Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + + 'Let the great world bustle on + With war and trade, with camp and town; + A thousand men shall dig and eat; + At forge and furnace thousands sweat; + And thousands sail the purple sea, + And give or take the stroke of war, + Or crowd the market and bazaar; + Oft shall war end, and peace return, + And cities rise where cities burn, + Ere one man my hill shall climb, + Who can turn the golden rhyme. + Let them manage how they may, + Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + Seek the living among the dead,— + Man in man is imprisonèd; + Barefooted Dervish is not poor, + If fate unlock his bosom's door, + So that what his eye hath seen + His tongue can paint as bright, as keen; + And what his tender heart hath felt + With equal fire thy heart shalt melt. + For, whom the Muses smile upon, + And touch with soft persuasion, + His words like a storm-wind can bring + Terror and beauty on their wing; + In his every syllable + Lurketh Nature veritable; + And though he speak in midnight dark,— + In heaven no star, on earth no spark,— + Yet before the listener's eye + Swims the world in ecstasy, + The forest waves, the morning breaks, + The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes, + Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be, + And life pulsates in rock or tree. + Saadi, so far thy words shall reach: + Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!' + + And thus to Saadi said the Muse: + 'Eat thou the bread which men refuse; + Flee from the goods which from thee flee; + Seek nothing,—Fortune seeketh thee. + Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep + The midway of the eternal deep. + Wish not to fill the isles with eyes + To fetch thee birds of paradise: + On thine orchard's edge belong + All the brags of plume and song; + Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass + For proverbs in the market-place: + Through mountains bored by regal art, + Toil whistles as he drives his cart. + Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind, + A poet or a friend to find: + Behold, he watches at the door! + Behold his shadow on the floor! + Open innumerable doors + The heaven where unveiled Allah pours + The flood of truth, the flood of good, + The Seraph's and the Cherub's food. + Those doors are men: the Pariah hind + Admits thee to the perfect Mind. + Seek not beyond thy cottage wall + Redeemers that can yield thee all: + While thou sittest at thy door + On the desert's yellow floor, + Listening to the gray-haired crones, + Foolish gossips, ancient drones, + Saadi, see! they rise in stature + To the height of mighty Nature, + And the secret stands revealed + Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,— + That blessed gods in servile masks + Plied for thee thy household tasks.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOLIDAYS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From fall to spring, the russet acorn, + Fruit beloved of maid and boy, + Lent itself beneath the forest, + To be the children's toy. + + Pluck it now! In vain,—thou canst not; + Its root has pierced yon shady mound; + Toy no longer—it has duties; + It is anchored in the ground. + + Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, + Playfellow of young and old, + Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, + More dear to one than mines of gold. + + Whither went the lovely hoyden? + Disappeared in blessed wife; + Servant to a wooden cradle, + Living in a baby's life. + + Still thou playest;—short vacation + Fate grants each to stand aside; + Now must thou be man and artist,— + 'T is the turning of the tide. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XENOPHANES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave + One scent to hyson and to wall-flower, + One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls, + One aspect to the desert and the lake. + It was her stern necessity: all things + Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower, + Song, picture, form, space, thought and character + Deceive us, seeming to be many things, + And are but one. Beheld far off, they part + As God and devil; bring them to the mind, + They dull its edge with their monotony. + To know one element, explore another, + And in the second reappears the first. + The specious panorama of a year + But multiplies the image of a day,— + A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame; + And universal Nature, through her vast + And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, + Repeats one note. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DAY'S RATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I was born, + From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, + Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice, + Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw + From my great arteries,—nor less, nor more.' + All substances the cunning chemist Time + Melts down into that liquor of my life,— + Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust. + And whether I am angry or content, + Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt, + All he distils into sidereal wine + And brims my little cup; heedless, alas! + Of all he sheds how little it will hold, + How much runs over on the desert sands. + If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray, + And I uplift myself into its heaven, + The needs of the first sight absorb my blood, + And all the following hours of the day + Drag a ridiculous age. + To-day, when friends approach, and every hour + Brings book, or starbright scroll of genius, + The little cup will hold not a bead more, + And all the costly liquor runs to waste; + Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond drop + So to be husbanded for poorer days. + Why need I volumes, if one word suffice? + Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught + After the master's sketch fills and o'erfills + My apprehension? Why seek Italy, + Who cannot circumnavigate the sea + Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn + The nearest matters for a thousand days? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BLIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give me truths; + For I am weary of the surfaces, + And die of inanition. If I knew + Only the herbs and simples of the wood, + Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, + Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, + Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew, + And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods + Draw untold juices from the common earth, + Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell + Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply + By sweet affinities to human flesh, + Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,— + O, that were much, and I could be a part + Of the round day, related to the sun + And planted world, and full executor + Of their imperfect functions. + But these young scholars, who invade our hills, + Bold as the engineer who fells the wood, + And travelling often in the cut he makes, + Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, + And all their botany is Latin names. + The old men studied magic in the flowers, + And human fortunes in astronomy, + And an omnipotence in chemistry, + Preferring things to names, for these were men, + Were unitarians of the united world, + And, wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell, + They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes + Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, + And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, + And strangers to the plant and to the mine. + The injured elements say, 'Not in us;' + And night and day, ocean and continent, + Fire, plant and mineral say, 'Not in us;' + And haughtily return us stare for stare. + For we invade them impiously for gain; + We devastate them unreligiously, + And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. + Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us + Only what to our griping toil is due; + But the sweet affluence of love and song, + The rich results of the divine consents + Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover, + The nectar and ambrosia, are withheld; + And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves + And pirates of the universe, shut out + Daily to a more thin and outward rind, + Turn pale and starve. Therefore, to our sick eyes, + The stunted trees look sick, the summer short, + Clouds shade the sun, which will not tan our hay, + And nothing thrives to reach its natural term; + And life, shorn of its venerable length, + Even at its greatest space is a defeat, + And dies in anger that it was a dupe; + And, in its highest noon and wantonness, + Is early frugal, like a beggar's child; + Even in the hot pursuit of the best aims + And prizes of ambition, checks its hand, + Like Alpine cataracts frozen as they leaped, + Chilled with a miserly comparison + Of the toy's purchase with the length of life. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MUSKETAQUID + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Because I was content with these poor fields, + Low, open meads, slender and sluggish streams, + And found a home in haunts which others scorned, + The partial wood-gods overpaid my love, + And granted me the freedom of their state, + And in their secret senate have prevailed + With the dear, dangerous lords that rule our life, + Made moon and planets parties to their bond, + And through my rock-like, solitary wont + Shot million rays of thought and tenderness. + For me, in showers, in sweeping showers, the Spring + Visits the valley;—break away the clouds,— + I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air, + And loiter willing by yon loitering stream. + Sparrows far off, and nearer, April's bird, + Blue-coated,—flying before from tree to tree, + Courageous sing a delicate overture + To lead the tardy concert of the year. + Onward and nearer rides the sun of May; + And wide around, the marriage of the plants + Is sweetly solemnized. Then flows amain + The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag, + Hollow and lake, hillside and pine arcade, + Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff + Has thousand faces in a thousand hours. + + Beneath low hills, in the broad interval + Through which at will our Indian rivulet + Winds mindful still of sannup and of squaw, + Whose pipe and arrow oft the plough unburies, + Here in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, + Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell. + Traveller, to thee, perchance, a tedious road, + Or, it may be, a picture; to these men, + The landscape is an armory of powers, + Which, one by one, they know to draw and use. + They harness beast, bird, insect, to their work; + They prove the virtues of each bed of rock, + And, like the chemist 'mid his loaded jars, + Draw from each stratum its adapted use + To drug their crops or weapon their arts withal. + They turn the frost upon their chemic heap, + They set the wind to winnow pulse and grain, + They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime, + And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow, + Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods + O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year, + They fight the elements with elements + (That one would say, meadow and forest walked, + Transmuted in these men to rule their like), + And by the order in the field disclose + The order regnant in the yeoman's brain. + + What these strong masters wrote at large in miles, + I followed in small copy in my acre; + For there's no rood has not a star above it; + The cordial quality of pear or plum + Ascends as gladly in a single tree + As in broad orchards resonant with bees; + And every atom poises for itself, + And for the whole. The gentle deities + Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds, + The innumerable tenements of beauty. + The miracle of generative force, + Far-reaching concords of astronomy + Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds; + Better, the linked purpose of the whole, + And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty + In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave. + The polite found me impolite; the great + Would mortify me, but in vain; for still + I am a willow of the wilderness, + Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts + My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk, + A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush, + A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine, + Salve my worst wounds. + For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear: + 'Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie? + Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass + Into the winter night's extinguished mood? + Canst thou shine now, then darkle, + And being latent, feel thyself no less? + As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye, + The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure, + Yet envies none, none are unenviable.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DIRGE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CONCORD, 1838 +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I reached the middle of the mount + Up which the incarnate soul must climb, + And paused for them, and looked around, + With me who walked through space and time. + + Five rosy boys with morning light + Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, + Fronted the sun with hope as bright, + And greeted God with childhood's psalms. + + Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, + What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn? + + In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts; + I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts. + + The winding Concord gleamed below, + Pouring as wide a flood + As when my brothers, long ago, + Came with me to the wood. + + But they are gone,—the holy ones + Who trod with me this lovely vale; + The strong, star-bright companions + Are silent, low and pale. + + My good, my noble, in their prime, + Who made this world the feast it was + Who learned with me the lore of time, + Who loved this dwelling-place! + + They took this valley for their toy, + They played with it in every mood; + A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,— + They treated Nature as they would. + + They colored the horizon round; + Stars flamed and faded as they bade, + All echoes hearkened for their sound,— + They made the woodlands glad or mad. + + I touch this flower of silken leaf, + Which once our childhood knew; + Its soft leaves wound me with a grief + Whose balsam never grew. + + Hearken to yon pine-warbler + Singing aloft in the tree! + Hearest thou, O traveller, + What he singeth to me? + + Not unless God made sharp thine ear + With sorrow such as mine, + Out of that delicate lay could'st thou + Its heavy tale divine. + + 'Go, lonely man,' it saith; + 'They loved thee from their birth; + Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,— + There are no such hearts on earth. + + 'Ye drew one mother's milk, + One chamber held ye all; + A very tender history + Did in your childhood fall. + + 'You cannot unlock your heart, + The key is gone with them; + The silent organ loudest chants + The master's requiem.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THRENODY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The South-wind brings + Life, sunshine and desire, + And on every mount and meadow + Breathes aromatic fire; + But over the dead he has no power, + The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; + And, looking over the hills, I mourn + The darling who shall not return. + + I see my empty house, + I see my trees repair their boughs; + And he, the wondrous child, + Whose silver warble wild + Outvalued every pulsing sound + Within the air's cerulean round,— + The hyacinthine boy, for whom + Morn well might break and April bloom, + The gracious boy, who did adorn + The world whereinto he was born, + And by his countenance repay + The favor of the loving Day,— + Has disappeared from the Day's eye; + Far and wide she cannot find him; + My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him. + Returned this day, the South-wind searches, + And finds young pines and budding birches; + But finds not the budding man; + Nature, who lost, cannot remake him; + Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him; + Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain. + + And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, + O, whither tend thy feet? + I had the right, few days ago, + Thy steps to watch, thy place to know: + How have I forfeited the right? + Hast thou forgot me in a new delight? + I hearken for thy household cheer, + O eloquent child! + Whose voice, an equal messenger, + Conveyed thy meaning mild. + What though the pains and joys + Whereof it spoke were toys + Fitting his age and ken, + Yet fairest dames and bearded men, + Who heard the sweet request, + So gentle, wise and grave, + Bended with joy to his behest + And let the world's affairs go by, + A while to share his cordial game, + Or mend his wicker wagon-frame, + Still plotting how their hungry fear + That winsome voice again might hear; + For his lips could well pronounce + Words that were persuasions. + + Gentlest guardians marked serene + His early hope, his liberal mien; + Took counsel from his guiding eyes + To make this wisdom earthly wise. + Ah, vainly do these eyes recall + The school-march, each day's festival, + When every morn my bosom glowed + To watch the convoy on the road; + The babe in willow wagon closed, + With rolling eyes and face composed; + With children forward and behind, + Like Cupids studiously inclined; + And he the chieftain paced beside, + The centre of the troop allied, + With sunny face of sweet repose, + To guard the babe from fancied foes. + The little captain innocent + Took the eye with him as he went; + Each village senior paused to scan + And speak the lovely caravan. + From the window I look out + To mark thy beautiful parade, + Stately marching in cap and coat + To some tune by fairies played;— + A music heard by thee alone + To works as noble led thee on. + + Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, + Up and down their glances strain. + The painted sled stands where it stood; + The kennel by the corded wood; + His gathered sticks to stanch the wall + Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; + The ominous hole he dug in the sand, + And childhood's castles built or planned; + His daily haunts I well discern,— + The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,— + And every inch of garden ground + Paced by the blessed feet around, + From the roadside to the brook + Whereinto he loved to look. + Step the meek fowls where erst they ranged; + The wintry garden lies unchanged; + The brook into the stream runs on; + But the deep-eyed boy is gone. + + On that shaded day, + Dark with more clouds than tempests are, + When thou didst yield thy innocent breath + In birdlike heavings unto death, + Night came, and Nature had not thee; + I said, 'We are mates in misery.' + The morrow dawned with needless glow; + Each snowbird chirped, each fowl must crow; + Each tramper started; but the feet + Of the most beautiful and sweet + Of human youth had left the hill + And garden,—they were bound and still. + There's not a sparrow or a wren, + There's not a blade of autumn grain, + Which the four seasons do not tend + And tides of life and increase lend; + And every chick of every bird, + And weed and rock-moss is preferred. + O ostrich-like forgetfulness! + O loss of larger in the less! + Was there no star that could be sent, + No watcher in the firmament, + No angel from the countless host + That loiters round the crystal coast, + Could stoop to heal that only child, + Nature's sweet marvel undefiled, + And keep the blossom of the earth, + Which all her harvests were not worth? + Not mine,—I never called thee mine, + But Nature's heir,—if I repine, + And seeing rashly torn and moved + Not what I made, but what I loved, + Grow early old with grief that thou + Must to the wastes of Nature go,— + 'T is because a general hope + Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope. + For flattering planets seemed to say + This child should ills of ages stay, + By wondrous tongue, and guided pen, + Bring the flown Muses back to men. + Perchance not he but Nature ailed, + The world and not the infant failed. + It was not ripe yet to sustain + A genius of so fine a strain, + Who gazed upon the sun and moon + As if he came unto his own, + And, pregnant with his grander thought, + Brought the old order into doubt. + His beauty once their beauty tried; + They could not feed him, and he died, + And wandered backward as in scorn, + To wait an aeon to be born. + Ill day which made this beauty waste, + Plight broken, this high face defaced! + Some went and came about the dead; + And some in books of solace read; + Some to their friends the tidings say; + Some went to write, some went to pray; + One tarried here, there hurried one; + But their heart abode with none. + Covetous death bereaved us all, + To aggrandize one funeral. + The eager fate which carried thee + Took the largest part of me: + For this losing is true dying; + This is lordly man's down-lying, + This his slow but sure reclining, + Star by star his world resigning. + + O child of paradise, + Boy who made dear his father's home, + In whose deep eyes + Men read the welfare of the times to come, + I am too much bereft. + The world dishonored thou hast left. + O truth's and nature's costly lie! + O trusted broken prophecy! + O richest fortune sourly crossed! + Born for the future, to the future lost! + + The deep Heart answered, 'Weepest thou? + Worthier cause for passion wild + If I had not taken the child. + And deemest thou as those who pore, + With aged eyes, short way before,— + Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast + Of matter, and thy darling lost? + Taught he not thee—the man of eld, + Whose eyes within his eyes beheld + Heaven's numerous hierarchy span + The mystic gulf from God to man? + To be alone wilt thou begin + When worlds of lovers hem thee in? + To-morrow, when the masks shall fall + That dizen Nature's carnival, + The pure shall see by their own will, + Which overflowing Love shall fill, + 'T is not within the force of fate + The fate-conjoined to separate. + But thou, my votary, weepest thou? + I gave thee sight—where is it now? + I taught thy heart beyond the reach + Of ritual, bible, or of speech; + Wrote in thy mind's transparent table, + As far as the incommunicable; + Taught thee each private sign to raise + Lit by the supersolar blaze. + Past utterance, and past belief, + And past the blasphemy of grief, + The mysteries of Nature's heart; + And though no Muse can these impart, + Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, + And all is clear from east to west. + + 'I came to thee as to a friend; + Dearest, to thee I did not send + Tutors, but a joyful eye, + Innocence that matched the sky, + Lovely locks, a form of wonder, + Laughter rich as woodland thunder, + That thou might'st entertain apart + The richest flowering of all art: + And, as the great all-loving Day + Through smallest chambers takes its way, + That thou might'st break thy daily bread + With prophet, savior and head; + That thou might'st cherish for thine own + The riches of sweet Mary's Son, + Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon. + And thoughtest thou such guest + Would in thy hall take up his rest? + Would rushing life forget her laws, + Fate's glowing revolution pause? + High omens ask diviner guess; + Not to be conned to tediousness + And know my higher gifts unbind + The zone that girds the incarnate mind. + When the scanty shores are full + With Thought's perilous, whirling pool; + When frail Nature can no more, + Then the Spirit strikes the hour: + My servant Death, with solving rite, + Pours finite into infinite. + Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow, + Whose streams through Nature circling go? + Nail the wild star to its track + On the half-climbed zodiac? + Light is light which radiates, + Blood is blood which circulates, + Life is life which generates, + And many-seeming life is one,— + Wilt thou transfix and make it none? + Its onward force too starkly pent + In figure, bone and lineament? + Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, + Talker! the unreplying Fate? + Nor see the genius of the whole + Ascendant in the private soul, + Beckon it when to go and come, + Self-announced its hour of doom? + Fair the soul's recess and shrine, + Magic-built to last a season; + Masterpiece of love benign, + Fairer that expansive reason + Whose omen 'tis, and sign. + Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know + What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? + Verdict which accumulates + From lengthening scroll of human fates, + Voice of earth to earth returned, + Prayers of saints that inly burned,— + Saying, <i>What is excellent,</i> + <i>As God lives, is permanent;</i> + <i>Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;</i> + <i>Heart's love will meet thee again.</i> + Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye + Up to his style, and manners of the sky. + Not of adamant and gold + Built he heaven stark and cold; + No, but a nest of bending reeds, + Flowering grass and scented weeds; + Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, + Or bow above the tempest bent; + Built of tears and sacred flames, + And virtue reaching to its aims; + Built of furtherance and pursuing, + Not of spent deeds, but of doing. + Silent rushes the swift Lord + Through ruined systems still restored, + Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, + Plants with worlds the wilderness; + Waters with tears of ancient sorrow + Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. + House and tenant go to ground, + Lost in God, in Godhead found.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCORD HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE + MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837 + + By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, + Here once the embattled farmers stood + And fired the shot heard round the world. + + The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; + And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + + On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; + That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + + Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, + Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and thee. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II — MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAY-DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, + With sudden passion languishing, + Teaching Barren moors to smile, + Painting pictures mile on mile, + Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, + Whence a smokeless incense breathes. + The air is full of whistlings bland; + What was that I heard + Out of the hazy land? + Harp of the wind, or song of bird, + Or vagrant booming of the air, + Voice of a meteor lost in day? + Such tidings of the starry sphere + Can this elastic air convey. + Or haply 'twas the cannonade + Of the pent and darkened lake, + Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade, + Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break, + Afflicted moan, and latest hold + Even into May the iceberg cold. + Was it a squirrel's pettish bark, + Or clarionet of jay? or hark + Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, + Steering north with raucous cry + Through tracts and provinces of sky, + Every night alighting down + In new landscapes of romance, + Where darkling feed the clamorous clans + By lonely lakes to men unknown. + Come the tumult whence it will, + Voice of sport, or rush of wings, + It is a sound, it is a token + That the marble sleep is broken, + And a change has passed on things. + + When late I walked, in earlier days, + All was stiff and stark; + Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, + In the sky no spark; + Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, + Struggling through the drifted roads; + The whited desert knew me not, + Snow-ridges masked each darling spot; + The summer dells, by genius haunted, + One arctic moon had disenchanted. + All the sweet secrets therein hid + By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. + Eldest mason, Frost, had piled + Swift cathedrals in the wild; + The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts + In the star-lit minster aisled. + I found no joy: the icy wind + Might rule the forest to his mind. + Who would freeze on frozen lakes? + Back to books and sheltered home, + And wood-fire flickering on the walls, + To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games, + Without the baffled North-wind calls. + But soft! a sultry morning breaks; + The ground-pines wash their rusty green, + The maple-tops their crimson tint, + On the soft path each track is seen, + The girl's foot leaves its neater print. + The pebble loosened from the frost + Asks of the urchin to be tost. + In flint and marble beats a heart, + The kind Earth takes her children's part, + The green lane is the school-boy's friend, + Low leaves his quarrel apprehend, + The fresh ground loves his top and ball, + The air rings jocund to his call, + The brimming brook invites a leap, + He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. + The youth sees omens where he goes, + And speaks all languages the rose, + The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice + The far halloo of human voice; + The perfumed berry on the spray + Smacks of faint memories far away. + A subtle chain of countless rings + The next into the farthest brings, + And, striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form. + + The caged linnet in the Spring + Hearkens for the choral glee, + When his fellows on the wing + Migrate from the Southern Sea; + When trellised grapes their flowers unmask, + And the new-born tendrils twine, + The old wine darkling in the cask + Feels the bloom on the living vine, + And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: + And so, perchance, in Adam's race, + Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace + Survived the Flight and swam the Flood, + And wakes the wish in youngest blood + To tread the forfeit Paradise, + And feed once more the exile's eyes; + And ever when the happy child + In May beholds the blooming wild, + And hears in heaven the bluebird sing, + 'Onward,' he cries, 'your baskets bring,— + In the next field is air more mild, + And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier spring.' + + Not for a regiment's parade, + Nor evil laws or rulers made, + Blue Walden rolls its cannonade, + But for a lofty sign + Which the Zodiac threw, + That the bondage-days are told. + And waters free as winds shall flow. + Lo! how all the tribes combine + To rout the flying foe. + See, every patriot oak-leaf throws + His elfin length upon the snows, + Not idle, since the leaf all day + Draws to the spot the solar ray, + Ere sunset quarrying inches down, + And halfway to the mosses brown; + While the grass beneath the rime + Has hints of the propitious time, + And upward pries and perforates + Through the cold slab a thousand gates, + Till green lances peering through + Bend happy in the welkin blue. + + As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, + So Spring will not her time forerun, + Mix polar night with tropic glow, + Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, + Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, + But she has the temperance + Of the gods, whereof she is one,— + Masks her treasury of heat + Under east winds crossed with sleet. + Plants and birds and humble creatures + Well accept her rule austere; + Titan-born, to hardy natures + Cold is genial and dear. + As Southern wrath to Northern right + Is but straw to anthracite; + As in the day of sacrifice, + When heroes piled the pyre, + The dismal Massachusetts ice + Burned more than others' fire, + So Spring guards with surface cold + The garnered heat of ages old. + Hers to sow the seed of bread, + That man and all the kinds be fed; + And, when the sunlight fills the hours, + Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers. + + Beneath the calm, within the light, + A hid unruly appetite + Of swifter life, a surer hope, + Strains every sense to larger scope, + Impatient to anticipate + The halting steps of aged Fate. + Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl: + When Nature falters, fain would zeal + Grasp the felloes of her wheel, + And grasping give the orbs another whirl. + Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball! + And sun this frozen side. + Bring hither back the robin's call, + Bring back the tulip's pride. + + Why chidest thou the tardy Spring? + The hardy bunting does not chide; + The blackbirds make the maples ring + With social cheer and jubilee; + The redwing flutes his <i>o-ka-lee</i>, + The robins know the melting snow; + The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed, + Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves, + Secure the osier yet will hide + Her callow brood in mantling leaves,— + And thou, by science all undone, + Why only must thy reason fail + To see the southing of the sun? + + The world rolls round,—mistrust it not,— + Befalls again what once befell; + All things return, both sphere and mote, + And I shall hear my bluebird's note, + And dream the dream of Auburn dell. + + April cold with dropping rain + Willows and lilacs brings again, + The whistle of returning birds, + And trumpet-lowing of the herds. + The scarlet maple-keys betray + What potent blood hath modest May, + What fiery force the earth renews, + The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; + What joy in rosy waves outpoured + Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. + + Hither rolls the storm of heat; + I feel its finer billows beat + Like a sea which me infolds; + Heat with viewless fingers moulds, + Swells, and mellows, and matures, + Paints, and flavors, and allures, + Bird and brier inly warms, + Still enriches and transforms, + Gives the reed and lily length, + Adds to oak and oxen strength, + Transforming what it doth infold, + Life out of death, new out of old, + Painting fawns' and leopards' fells, + Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells, + Fires gardens with a joyful blaze + Of tulips, in the morning's rays. + The dead log touched bursts into leaf, + The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf. + What god is this imperial Heat, + Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat? + Doth it bear hidden in its heart + Water-line patterns of all art? + Is it Daedalus? is it Love? + Or walks in mask almighty Jove, + And drops from Power's redundant horn + All seeds of beauty to be born? + + Where shall we keep the holiday, + And duly greet the entering May? + Too strait and low our cottage doors, + And all unmeet our carpet floors; + Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, + Suffice to hold the festival. + Up and away! where haughty woods + Front the liberated floods: + We will climb the broad-backed hills, + Hear the uproar of their joy; + We will mark the leaps and gleams + Of the new-delivered streams, + And the murmuring rivers of sap + Mount in the pipes of the trees, + Giddy with day, to the topmost spire, + Which for a spike of tender green + Bartered its powdery cap; + And the colors of joy in the bird, + And the love in its carol heard, + Frog and lizard in holiday coats, + And turtle brave in his golden spots; + While cheerful cries of crag and plain + Reply to the thunder of river and main. + + As poured the flood of the ancient sea + Spilling over mountain chains, + Bending forests as bends the sedge, + Faster flowing o'er the plains,— + A world-wide wave with a foaming edge + That rims the running silver sheet,— + So pours the deluge of the heat + Broad northward o'er the land, + Painting artless paradises, + Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, + Fanning secret fires which glow + In columbine and clover-blow, + Climbing the northern zones, + Where a thousand pallid towns + Lie like cockles by the main, + Or tented armies on a plain. + The million-handed sculptor moulds + Quaintest bud and blossom folds, + The million-handed painter pours + Opal hues and purple dye; + Azaleas flush the island floors, + And the tints of heaven reply. + + Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring + To-day shall all her dowry bring, + The love of kind, the joy, the grace, + Hymen of element and race, + Knowing well to celebrate + With song and hue and star and state, + With tender light and youthful cheer, + The spousals of the new-born year. + + Spring is strong and virtuous, + Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, + Quickening underneath the mould + Grains beyond the price of gold. + So deep and large her bounties are, + That one broad, long midsummer day + Shall to the planet overpay + The ravage of a year of war. + + Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, + And send the nectar round; + The feet that slid so long on sleet + Are glad to feel the ground. + Fill and saturate each kind + With good according to its mind, + Fill each kind and saturate + With good agreeing with its fate, + And soft perfection of its plan— + Willow and violet, maiden and man. + + The bitter-sweet, the haunting air + Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; + It preys on all, all prey on it. + Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, + Stings the strong with enterprise, + Makes travellers long for Indian skies, + And where it comes this courier fleet + Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, + As if to-morrow should redeem + The vanished rose of evening's dream. + By houses lies a fresher green, + On men and maids a ruddier mien, + As if Time brought a new relay + Of shining virgins every May, + And Summer came to ripen maids + To a beauty that not fades. + + I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth, + Stepping daily onward north + To greet staid ancient cavaliers + Filing single in stately train. + And who, and who are the travellers? + They were Night and Day, and Day and Night, + Pilgrims wight with step forthright. + I saw the Days deformed and low, + Short and bent by cold and snow; + The merry Spring threw wreaths on them, + Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell; + Many a flower and many a gem, + They were refreshed by the smell, + They shook the snow from hats and shoon, + They put their April raiment on; + And those eternal forms, + Unhurt by a thousand storms, + Shot up to the height of the sky again, + And danced as merrily as young men. + I saw them mask their awful glance + Sidewise meek in gossamer lids; + And to speak my thought if none forbids + It was as if the eternal gods, + Tired of their starry periods, + Hid their majesty in cloth + Woven of tulips and painted moth. + On carpets green the maskers march + Below May's well-appointed arch, + Each star, each god; each grace amain, + Every joy and virtue speed, + Marching duly in her train, + And fainting Nature at her need + Is made whole again. + + 'Twas the vintage-day of field and wood, + When magic wine for bards is brewed; + Every tree and stem and chink + Gushed with syrup to the brink. + The air stole into the streets of towns, + Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns, + And betrayed the fund of joy + To the high-school and medalled boy: + On from hall to chamber ran, + From youth to maid, from boy to man, + To babes, and to old eyes as well. + 'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds, + Airy turrets purple-piled, + Which once my infancy beguiled, + Beguile me with the wonted spell. + I know ye skilful to convoy + The total freight of hope and joy + Into rude and homely nooks, + Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books, + On farmer's byre, on pasture rude, + And stony pathway to the wood. + I care not if the pomps you show + Be what they soothfast appear, + Or if yon realms in sunset glow + Be bubbles of the atmosphere. + And if it be to you allowed + To fool me with a shining cloud, + So only new griefs are consoled + By new delights, as old by old, + Frankly I will be your guest, + Count your change and cheer the best. + The world hath overmuch of pain,— + If Nature give me joy again, + Of such deceit I'll not complain.' + + Ah! well I mind the calendar, + Faithful through a thousand years, + Of the painted race of flowers, + Exact to days, exact to hours, + Counted on the spacious dial + Yon broidered zodiac girds. + I know the trusty almanac + Of the punctual coming-back, + On their due days, of the birds. + I marked them yestermorn, + A flock of finches darting + Beneath the crystal arch, + Piping, as they flew, a march,— + Belike the one they used in parting + Last year from yon oak or larch; + Dusky sparrows in a crowd, + Diving, darting northward free, + Suddenly betook them all, + Every one to his hole in the wall, + Or to his niche in the apple-tree. + I greet with joy the choral trains + Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. + Best gems of Nature's cabinet, + With dews of tropic morning wet, + Beloved of children, bards and Spring, + O birds, your perfect virtues bring, + Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, + Your manners for the heart's delight, + Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, + Here weave your chamber weather-proof, + Forgive our harms, and condescend + To man, as to a lubber friend, + And, generous, teach his awkward race + Courage and probity and grace! + + Poets praise that hidden wine + Hid in milk we drew + At the barrier of Time, + When our life was new. + We had eaten fairy fruit, + We were quick from head to foot, + All the forms we looked on shone + As with diamond dews thereon. + What cared we for costly joys, + The Museum's far-fetched toys? + Gleam of sunshine on the wall + Poured a deeper cheer than all + The revels of the Carnival. + We a pine-grove did prefer + To a marble theatre, + Could with gods on mallows dine, + Nor cared for spices or for wine. + Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned. + Arch on arch, the grimmest land; + Whittle of a woodland bird + Made the pulses dance, + Note of horn in valleys heard + Filled the region with romance. + + None can tell how sweet, + How virtuous, the morning air; + Every accent vibrates well; + Not alone the wood-bird's call, + Or shouting boys that chase their ball, + Pass the height of minstrel skill, + But the ploughman's thoughtless cry, + Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat, + And the joiner's hammer-beat, + Softened are above their will, + Take tones from groves they wandered through + Or flutes which passing angels blew. + All grating discords melt, + No dissonant note is dealt, + And though thy voice be shrill + Like rasping file on steel, + Such is the temper of the air, + Echo waits with art and care, + And will the faults of song repair. + + So by remote Superior Lake, + And by resounding Mackinac, + When northern storms the forest shake, + And billows on the long beach break, + The artful Air will separate + Note by note all sounds that grate, + Smothering in her ample breast + All but godlike words, + Reporting to the happy ear + Only purified accords. + Strangely wrought from barking waves, + Soft music daunts the Indian braves,— + Convent-chanting which the child + Hears pealing from the panther's cave + And the impenetrable wild. + + Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze: + So on thy broad mystic van + Lie the opal-colored days, + And waft the miracle to man. + Soothsayer of the eldest gods, + Repairer of what harms betide, + Revealer of the inmost powers + Prometheus proffered, Jove denied; + Disclosing treasures more than true, + Or in what far to-morrow due; + Speaking by the tongues of flowers, + By the ten-tongued laurel speaking, + Singing by the oriole songs, + Heart of bird the man's heart seeking; + Whispering hints of treasure hid + Under Morn's unlifted lid, + Islands looming just beyond + The dim horizon's utmost bound;— + Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid, + Or taunt us with our hope decayed? + Or who like thee persuade, + Making the splendor of the air, + The morn and sparkling dew, a snare? + Or who resent + Thy genius, wiles and blandishment? + + There is no orator prevails + To beckon or persuade + Like thee the youth or maid: + Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales, + Thy blooms, thy kinds, + Thy echoes in the wilderness, + Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress, + Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds. + + For thou, O Spring! canst renovate + All that high God did first create. + Be still his arm and architect, + Rebuild the ruin, mend defect; + Chemist to vamp old worlds with new, + Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue, + New tint the plumage of the birds, + And slough decay from grazing herds, + Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain, + Cleanse the torrent at the fountain, + Purge alpine air by towns defiled, + Bring to fair mother fairer child, + Not less renew the heart and brain, + Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain, + Make the aged eye sun-clear, + To parting soul bring grandeur near. + Under gentle types, my Spring + Masks the might of Nature's king, + An energy that searches thorough + From Chaos to the dawning morrow; + Into all our human plight, + The soul's pilgrimage and flight; + In city or in solitude, + Step by step, lifts bad to good, + Without halting, without rest, + Lifting Better up to Best; + Planting seeds of knowledge pure, + Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ADIRONDACS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A JOURNAL + + DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858 + + Wise and polite,—and if I drew + Their several portraits, you would own + Chaucer had no such worthy crew, + Nor Boccace in Decameron. + + We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends, + Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks + Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach + The Adirondac lakes. At Martin's Beach + We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide,— + Ten men, ten guides, our company all told. + + Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac, + With skies of benediction, to Round Lake, + Where all the sacred mountains drew around us, + Taháwus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead, + And other Titans without muse or name. + Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on, + Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills. + We made our distance wider, boat from boat, + As each would hear the oracle alone. + By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid + Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets, + Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel-flower, + Through scented banks of lilies white and gold, + Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day, + On through the Upper Saranac, and up + Père Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass + Winding through grassy shallows in and out, + Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge, + To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons. + + Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed, + Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge + Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore. + A pause and council: then, where near the head + Due east a bay makes inward to the land + Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank, + And in the twilight of the forest noon + Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard. + We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts, + Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof, + Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire. + + The wood was sovran with centennial trees,— + Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir, + Linden and spruce. In strict society + Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine, + Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby, + Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth, + The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower. + + 'Welcome!' the wood-god murmured through the leaves,— + 'Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.' + Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs, + Which o'erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire. + Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks, + Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor. + + Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft + In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed, + Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux, + And greet unanimous the joyful change. + So fast will Nature acclimate her sons, + Though late returning to her pristine ways. + Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold; + And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned, + Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds. + Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air + That circled freshly in their forest dress + Made them to boys again. Happier that they + Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind, + At the first mounting of the giant stairs. + No placard on these rocks warned to the polls, + No door-bell heralded a visitor, + No courier waits, no letter came or went, + Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold; + The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop, + The falling rain will spoil no holiday. + We were made freemen of the forest laws, + All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends, + Essaying nothing she cannot perform. + + In Adirondac lakes + At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded: + Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make + His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain, + He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn: + A paddle in the right hand, or an oar, + And in the left, a gun, his needful arms. + By turns we praised the stature of our guides, + Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill + To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp, + To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs + Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down: + Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount, + And wit to trap or take him in his lair. + Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent, + In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides; + Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired + Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve. + + Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen! + No city airs or arts pass current here. + Your rank is all reversed; let men or cloth + Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls: + <i>They</i> are the doctors of the wilderness, + And we the low-prized laymen. + In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test + Which few can put on with impunity. + What make you, master, fumbling at the oar? + Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here. + The sallow knows the basket-maker's thumb; + The oar, the guide's. Dare you accept the tasks + He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes, + Tell the sun's time, determine the true north, + Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods + To thread by night the nearest way to camp? + + Ask you, how went the hours? + All day we swept the lake, searched every cove, + North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay, + Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, + Or whipping its rough surface for a trout; + Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon; + Challenging Echo by our guns and cries; + Or listening to the laughter of the loon; + Or, in the evening twilight's latest red, + Beholding the procession of the pines; + Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, + In the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter + Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds + Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist. + Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods + Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck + Who stands astonished at the meteor light, + Then turns to bound away,—is it too late? + + Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark, + Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five; + Sometimes their wits at sally and retort, + With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; + Or parties scaled the near acclivities + Competing seekers of a rumored lake, + Whose unauthenticated waves we named + Lake Probability,—our carbuncle, + Long sought, not found. + + Two Doctors in the camp + Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout's brain, + Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew, + Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth; + Insatiate skill in water or in air + Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss; + The while, one leaden got of alcohol + Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds. + Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants, + Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus, + Rosy polygonum, lake-margin's pride, + Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss, + Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls. + Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed, + The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker + Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp. + As water poured through hollows of the hills + To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets, + So Nature shed all beauty lavishly + From her redundant horn. + + Lords of this realm, + Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day + Rounded by hours where each outdid the last + In miracles of pomp, we must be proud, + As if associates of the sylvan gods. + We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac, + So pure the Alpine element we breathed, + So light, so lofty pictures came and went. + We trode on air, contemned the distant town, + Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned + That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge + And how we should come hither with our sons, + Hereafter,—willing they, and more adroit. + + Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery,— + The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito + Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands: + But, on the second day, we heed them not, + Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries, + Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names. + For who defends our leafy tabernacle + From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd,— + Who but the midge, mosquito and the fly, + Which past endurance sting the tender cit, + But which we learn to scatter with a smudge, + Or baffle by a veil, or slight by scorn? + + Our foaming ale we drank from hunters' pans, + Ale, and a sup of wine. Our steward gave + Venison and trout, potatoes, beans, wheat-bread; + All ate like abbots, and, if any missed + Their wonted convenance, cheerly hid the loss + With hunters' appetite and peals of mirth. + And Stillman, our guides' guide, and Commodore, + Crusoe, Crusader, Pius Aeneas, said aloud, + "Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating + Food indigestible":—then murmured some, + Others applauded him who spoke the truth. + + Nor doubt but visitings of graver thought + Checked in these souls the turbulent heyday + 'Mid all the hints and glories of the home. + For who can tell what sudden privacies + Were sought and found, amid the hue and cry + Of scholars furloughed from their tasks and let + Into this Oreads' fended Paradise, + As chapels in the city's thoroughfares, + Whither gaunt Labor slips to wipe his brow + And meditate a moment on Heaven's rest. + Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke + To each apart, lifting her lovely shows + To spiritual lessons pointed home, + And as through dreams in watches of the night, + So through all creatures in their form and ways + Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant, + Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense + Inviting to new knowledge, one with old. + Hark to that petulant chirp! what ails the warbler? + Mark his capricious ways to draw the eye. + Now soar again. What wilt thou, restless bird, + Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light, + Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky? + + And presently the sky is changed; O world! + What pictures and what harmonies are thine! + The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, + So like the soul of me, what if 't were me? + A melancholy better than all mirth. + Comes the sweet sadness at the retrospect, + Or at the foresight of obscurer years? + Like yon slow-sailing cloudy promontory + Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty + Superior to all its gaudy skirts. + And, that no day of life may lack romance, + The spiritual stars rise nightly, shedding down + A private beam into each several heart. + Daily the bending skies solicit man, + The seasons chariot him from this exile, + The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing chair, + The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, + Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights + Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home. + + With a vermilion pencil mark the day + When of our little fleet three cruising skiffs + Entering Big Tupper, bound for the foaming Falls + Of loud Bog River, suddenly confront + Two of our mates returning with swift oars. + One held a printed journal waving high + Caught from a late-arriving traveller, + Big with great news, and shouted the report + For which the world had waited, now firm fact, + Of the wire-cable laid beneath the sea, + And landed on our coast, and pulsating + With ductile fire. Loud, exulting cries + From boat to boat, and to the echoes round, + Greet the glad miracle. Thought's new-found path + Shall supplement henceforth all trodden ways, + Match God's equator with a zone of art, + And lift man's public action to a height + Worthy the enormous cloud of witnesses, + When linkèd hemispheres attest his deed. + We have few moments in the longest life + Of such delight and wonder as there grew,— + Nor yet unsuited to that solitude: + A burst of joy, as if we told the fact + To ears intelligent; as if gray rock + And cedar grove and cliff and lake should know + This feat of wit, this triumph of mankind; + As if we men were talking in a vein + Of sympathy so large, that ours was theirs, + And a prime end of the most subtle element + Were fairly reached at last. Wake, echoing caves! + Bend nearer, faint day-moon! Yon thundertops, + Let them hear well! 'tis theirs as much as ours. + + A spasm throbbing through the pedestals + Of Alp and Andes, isle and continent, + Urging astonished Chaos with a thrill + To be a brain, or serve the brain of man. + The lightning has run masterless too long; + He must to school and learn his verb and noun + And teach his nimbleness to earn his wage, + Spelling with guided tongue man's messages + Shot through the weltering pit of the salt sea. + And yet I marked, even in the manly joy + Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat + (Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent; + Or was it for mankind a generous shame, + As of a luck not quite legitimate, + Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? + Was it a college pique of town and gown, + As one within whose memory it burned + That not academicians, but some lout, + Found ten years since the Californian gold? + And now, again, a hungry company + Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, + Perversely borrowing from the shop the tools + Of science, not from the philosophers, + Had won the brightest laurel of all time. + 'Twas always thus, and will be; hand and head + Are ever rivals: but, though this be swift, + The other slow,—this the Prometheus, + And that the Jove,—yet, howsoever hid, + It was from Jove the other stole his fire, + And, without Jove, the good had never been. + It is not Iroquois or cannibals, + But ever the free race with front sublime, + And these instructed by their wisest too, + Who do the feat, and lift humanity. + Let not him mourn who best entitled was, + Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, + Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, + And water it with wine, nor watch askance + Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: + Enough that mankind eat and are refreshed. + + We flee away from cities, but we bring + The best of cities with us, these learned classifiers, + Men knowing what they seek, armed eyes of experts. + We praise the guide, we praise the forest life: + But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore + Of books and arts and trained experiment, + Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? + O no, not we! Witness the shout that shook + Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail + The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge + Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears + From a log cabin stream Beethoven's notes + On the piano, played with master's hand. + 'Well done!' he cries; 'the bear is kept at bay, + The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; + All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, + This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, + This wild plantation will suffice to chase. + Now speed the gay celerities of art, + What in the desert was impossible + Within four walls is possible again,— + Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill, + Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife + Of keen competing youths, joined or alone + To outdo each other and extort applause. + Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. + Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again, + On for a thousand years of genius more.' + + The holidays were fruitful, but must end; + One August evening had a cooler breath; + Into each mind intruding duties crept; + Under the cinders burned the fires of home; + Nay, letters found us in our paradise: + So in the gladness of the new event + We struck our camp and left the happy hills. + The fortunate star that rose on us sank not; + The prodigal sunshine rested on the land, + The rivers gambolled onward to the sea, + And Nature, the inscrutable and mute, + Permitted on her infinite repose + Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, + As if one riddle of the Sphinx were guessed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BRAHMA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If the red slayer think he slays, + Or if the slain think he is slain, + They know not well the subtle ways + I keep, and pass, and turn again. + + Far or forgot to me is near; + Shadow and sunlight are the same; + The vanished gods to me appear; + And one to me are shame and fame. + + They reckon ill who leave me out; + When me they fly, I am the wings; + I am the doubter and the doubt, + And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. + + The strong gods pine for my abode, + And pine in vain the sacred Seven; + But thou, meek lover of the good! + Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NEMESIS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Already blushes on thy cheek + The bosom thought which thou must speak; + The bird, how far it haply roam + By cloud or isle, is flying home; + The maiden fears, and fearing runs + Into the charmed snare she shuns; + And every man, in love or pride, + Of his fate is never wide. + + Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth? + Or prayers the stony Parcae soothe, + Or coax the thunder from its mark? + Or tapers light the chaos dark? + In spite of Virtue and the Muse, + Nemesis will have her dues, + And all our struggles and our toils + Tighter wind the giant coils. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Deep in the man sits fast his fate + To mould his fortunes, mean or great: + Unknown to Cromwell as to me + Was Cromwell's measure or degree; + Unknown to him as to his horse, + If he than his groom be better or worse. + He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, + With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, + Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, + Broad England harbored not his peer: + Obeying time, the last to own + The Genius from its cloudy throne. + For the prevision is allied + Unto the thing so signified; + Or say, the foresight that awaits + Is the same Genius that creates. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FREEDOM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Once I wished I might rehearse + Freedom's paean in my verse, + That the slave who caught the strain + Should throb until he snapped his chain, + But the Spirit said, 'Not so; + Speak it not, or speak it low; + Name not lightly to be said, + Gift too precious to be prayed, + Passion not to be expressed + But by heaving of the breast: + Yet,—wouldst thou the mountain find + Where this deity is shrined, + Who gives to seas and sunset skies + Their unspent beauty of surprise, + And, when it lists him, waken can + Brute or savage into man; + Or, if in thy heart he shine, + Blends the starry fates with thine, + Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, + And makes thy thoughts archangels be; + Freedom's secret wilt thou know?— + Counsel not with flesh and blood; + Loiter not for cloak or food; + Right thou feelest, rush to do.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 + + O tenderly the haughty day + Fills his blue urn with fire; + One morn is in the mighty heaven, + And one in our desire. + + The cannon booms from town to town, + Our pulses beat not less, + The joy-bells chime their tidings down, + Which children's voices bless. + + For He that flung the broad blue fold + O'er-mantling land and sea, + One third part of the sky unrolled + For the banner of the free. + + The men are ripe of Saxon kind + To build an equal state,— + To take the statute from the mind + And make of duty fate. + + United States! the ages plead,— + Present and Past in under-song,— + Go put your creed into your deed, + Nor speak with double tongue. + + For sea and land don't understand, + Nor skies without a frown + See rights for which the one hand fights + By the other cloven down. + + Be just at home; then write your scroll + Of honor o'er the sea, + And bid the broad Atlantic roll, + A ferry of the free. + + And henceforth there shall be no chain, + Save underneath the sea + The wires shall murmur through the main + Sweet songs of liberty. + + The conscious stars accord above, + The waters wild below, + And under, through the cable wove, + Her fiery errands go. + + For He that worketh high and wise. + Nor pauses in his plan, + Will take the sun out of the skies + Ere freedom out of man. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOSTON HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863 + + The word of the Lord by night + To the watching Pilgrims came, + As they sat by the seaside, + And filled their hearts with flame. + + God said, I am tired of kings, + I suffer them no more; + Up to my ear the morning brings + The outrage of the poor. + + Think ye I made this ball + A field of havoc and war, + Where tyrants great and tyrants small + Might harry the weak and poor? + + My angel,—his name is Freedom,— + Choose him to be your king; + He shall cut pathways east and west + And fend you with his wing. + + Lo! I uncover the land + Which I hid of old time in the West, + As the sculptor uncovers the statue + When he has wrought his best; + + I show Columbia, of the rocks + Which dip their foot in the seas + And soar to the air-borne flocks + Of clouds and the boreal fleece. + + I will divide my goods; + Call in the wretch and slave: + None shall rule but the humble. + And none but Toil shall have. + + I will have never a noble, + No lineage counted great; + Fishers and choppers and ploughmen + Shall constitute a state. + + Go, cut down trees in the forest + And trim the straightest boughs; + Cut down trees in the forest + And build me a wooden house. + + Call the people together, + The young men and the sires, + The digger in the harvest-field, + Hireling and him that hires; + + And here in a pine state-house + They shall choose men to rule + In every needful faculty, + In church and state and school. + + Lo, now! if these poor men + Can govern the land and sea + And make just laws below the sun, + As planets faithful be. + + And ye shall succor men; + 'Tis nobleness to serve; + Help them who cannot help again: + Beware from right to swerve. + + I break your bonds and masterships, + And I unchain the slave: + Free be his heart and hand henceforth + As wind and wandering wave. + + I cause from every creature + His proper good to flow: + As much as he is and doeth, + So much he shall bestow. + + But, laying hands on another + To coin his labor and sweat, + He goes in pawn to his victim + For eternal years in debt. + + To-day unbind the captive, + So only are ye unbound; + Lift up a people from the dust, + Trump of their rescue, sound! + + Pay ransom to the owner + And fill the bag to the brim. + Who is the owner? The slave is owner, + And ever was. Pay him. + + O North! give him beauty for rags, + And honor, O South! for his shame; + Nevada! coin thy golden crags + With Freedom's image and name. + + Up! and the dusky race + That sat in darkness long,— + Be swift their feet as antelopes. + And as behemoth strong. + + Come, East and West and North, + By races, as snow-flakes, + And carry my purpose forth, + Which neither halts nor shakes. + + My will fulfilled shall be, + For, in daylight or in dark, + My thunderbolt has eyes to see + His way home to the mark. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUNTARIES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Low and mournful be the strain, + Haughty thought be far from me; + Tones of penitence and pain, + Meanings of the tropic sea; + Low and tender in the cell + Where a captive sits in chains. + Crooning ditties treasured well + From his Afric's torrid plains. + Sole estate his sire bequeathed,— + Hapless sire to hapless son,— + Was the wailing song he breathed, + And his chain when life was done. + + What his fault, or what his crime? + Or what ill planet crossed his prime? + Heart too soft and will too weak + To front the fate that crouches near,— + Dove beneath the vulture's beak;— + Will song dissuade the thirsty spear? + Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, + Displaced, disfurnished here, + His wistful toil to do his best + Chilled by a ribald jeer. + Great men in the Senate sate, + Sage and hero, side by side, + Building for their sons the State, + Which they shall rule with pride. + They forbore to break the chain + Which bound the dusky tribe, + Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, + Lured by 'Union' as the bribe. + Destiny sat by, and said, + 'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, + Hide in false peace your coward head, + I bring round the harvest day.' + + II + + Freedom all winged expands, + Nor perches in a narrow place; + Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; + She loves a poor and virtuous race. + Clinging to a colder zone + Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, + The snowflake is her banner's star, + Her stripes the boreal streamers are. + Long she loved the Northman well; + Now the iron age is done, + She will not refuse to dwell + With the offspring of the Sun; + Foundling of the desert far, + Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, + He roves unhurt the burning ways + In climates of the summer star. + He has avenues to God + Hid from men of Northern brain, + Far beholding, without cloud, + What these with slowest steps attain. + If once the generous chief arrive + To lead him willing to be led, + For freedom he will strike and strive, + And drain his heart till he be dead. + + III + + In an age of fops and toys, + Wanting wisdom, void of right, + Who shall nerve heroic boys + To hazard all in Freedom's fight,— + Break sharply off their jolly games, + Forsake their comrades gay + And quit proud homes and youthful dames + For famine, toil and fray? + Yet on the nimble air benign + Speed nimbler messages, + That waft the breath of grace divine + To hearts in sloth and ease. + So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When Duty whispers low, <i>Thou must</i>, + The youth replies, <i>I can</i>. + + IV + + O, well for the fortunate soul + Which Music's wings infold, + Stealing away the memory + Of sorrows new and old! + Yet happier he whose inward sight, + Stayed on his subtile thought, + Shuts his sense on toys of time, + To vacant bosoms brought. + But best befriended of the God + He who, in evil times, + Warned by an inward voice, + Heeds not the darkness and the dread, + Biding by his rule and choice, + Feeling only the fiery thread + Leading over heroic ground, + Walled with mortal terror round, + To the aim which him allures, + And the sweet heaven his deed secures. + Peril around, all else appalling, + Cannon in front and leaden rain + Him duty through the clarion calling + To the van called not in vain. + + Stainless soldier on the walls, + Knowing this,—and knows no more,— + Whoever fights, whoever falls, + Justice conquers evermore, + Justice after as before,— + And he who battles on her side, + God, though he were ten times slain, + Crowns him victor glorified, + Victor over death and pain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + V + + Blooms the laurel which belongs + To the valiant chief who fights; + I see the wreath, I hear the songs + Lauding the Eternal Rights, + Victors over daily wrongs: + Awful victors, they misguide + Whom they will destroy, + And their coming triumph hide + In our downfall, or our joy: + They reach no term, they never sleep, + In equal strength through space abide; + Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, + The strong they slay, the swift outstride: + Fate's grass grows rank in valley clods, + And rankly on the castled steep,— + Speak it firmly, these are gods, + All are ghosts beside. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE AND THOUGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two well-assorted travellers use + The highway, Eros and the Muse. + From the twins is nothing hidden, + To the pair is nought forbidden; + Hand in hand the comrades go + Every nook of Nature through: + Each for other they were born, + Each can other best adorn; + They know one only mortal grief + Past all balsam or relief; + When, by false companions crossed, + The pilgrims have each other lost. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Roving, roving, as it seems, + Una lights my clouded dreams; + Still for journeys she is dressed; + We wander far by east and west. + + In the homestead, homely thought, + At my work I ramble not; + If from home chance draw me wide, + Half-seen Una sits beside. + + In my house and garden-plot, + Though beloved, I miss her not; + But one I seek in foreign places, + One face explore in foreign faces. + + At home a deeper thought may light + The inward sky with chrysolite, + And I greet from far the ray, + Aurora of a dearer day. + + But if upon the seas I sail, + Or trundle on the glowing rail, + I am but a thought of hers, + Loveliest of travellers. + + So the gentle poet's name + To foreign parts is blown by fame, + Seek him in his native town, + He is hidden and unknown. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOSTON + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS + + The rocky nook with hilltops three + Looked eastward from the farms, + And twice each day the flowing sea + Took Boston in its arms; + The men of yore were stout and poor, + And sailed for bread to every shore. + + And where they went on trade intent + They did what freemen can, + Their dauntless ways did all men praise, + The merchant was a man. + The world was made for honest trade,— + To plant and eat be none afraid. + + The waves that rocked them on the deep + To them their secret told; + Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, + 'Like us be free and bold!' + The honest waves refused to slaves + The empire of the ocean caves. + + Old Europe groans with palaces, + Has lords enough and more;— + We plant and build by foaming seas + A city of the poor;— + For day by day could Boston Bay + Their honest labor overpay. + + We grant no dukedoms to the few, + We hold like rights, and shall;— + Equal on Sunday in the pew, + On Monday in the mall, + For what avail the plough or sail, + Or land or life, if freedom fail? + + The noble craftsman we promote, + Disown the knave and fool; + Each honest man shall have his vote, + Each child shall have his school. + A union then of honest men, + Or union never more again. + + The wild rose and the barberry thorn + Hung out their summer pride, + Where now on heated pavements worn + The feet of millions stride. + + Fair rose the planted hills behind + The good town on the bay, + And where the western hills declined + The prairie stretched away. + + What care though rival cities soar + Along the stormy coast, + Penn's town, New York and Baltimore, + If Boston knew the most! + + They laughed to know the world so wide; + The mountains said, 'Good-day! + We greet you well, you Saxon men, + Up with your towns and stay!' + The world was made for honest trade,— + To plant and eat be none afraid. + + 'For you,' they said, 'no barriers be, + For you no sluggard rest; + Each street leads downward to the sea, + Or landward to the west.' + + O happy town beside the sea, + Whose roads lead everywhere to all; + Than thine no deeper moat can be, + No stouter fence, no steeper wall! + + Bad news from George on the English throne; + 'You are thriving well,' said he; + 'Now by these presents be it known + You shall pay us a tax on tea; + 'Tis very small,—no load at all,— + Honor enough that we send the call. + + 'Not so,' said Boston, 'good my lord, + We pay your governors here + Abundant for their bed and board, + Six thousand pounds a year. + (Your Highness knows our homely word) + Millions for self-government, + But for tribute never a cent.' + + The cargo came! and who could blame + If <i>Indians</i> seized the tea, + And, chest by chest, let down the same, + Into the laughing sea? + For what avail the plough or sail, + Or land or life, if freedom fail? + + The townsmen braved the English king, + Found friendship in the French, + And honor joined the patriot ring + Low on their wooden bench. + + O bounteous seas that never fail! + O day remembered yet! + O happy port that spied the sail + Which wafted Lafayette! + Pole-star of light in Europe's night, + That never faltered from the right. + + Kings shook with fear, old empires crave + The secret force to find + Which fired the little State to save + The rights of all mankind. + + But right is might through all the world; + Province to province faithful clung, + Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled, + Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung. + + The sea returning day by day + Restores the world-wide mart; + So let each dweller on the Bay + Fold Boston in his heart, + Till these echoes be choked with snows, + Or over the town blue ocean flows. + + Let the blood of her hundred thousands + Throb in each manly vein; + And the wits of all her wisest, + Make sunshine in her brain. + For you can teach the lightning speech, + And round the globe your voices reach. + + And each shall care for other, + And each to each shall bend, + To the poor a noble brother, + To the good an equal friend. + + A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers! + GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every day brings a ship, + Every ship brings a word; + Well for those who have no fear. + Looking seaward, well assured + That the word the vessel brings + Is the word they wish to hear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RUBIES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They brought me rubies from the mine, + And held them to the sun; + I said, they are drops of frozen wine + From Eden's vats that run. + + I looked again,—I thought them hearts + Of friends to friends unknown; + Tides that should warm each neighboring life + Are locked in sparkling stone. + + But fire to thaw that ruddy snow, + To break enchanted ice, + And give love's scarlet tides to flow,— + When shall that sun arise? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN'S SONG + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Of Merlin wise I learned a song,— + Sing it low or sing it loud, + It is mightier than the strong, + And punishes the proud. + I sing it to the surging crowd,— + Good men it will calm and cheer, + Bad men it will chain and cage— + In the heart of the music peals a strain + Which only angels hear; + Whether it waken joy or rage + Hushed myriads hark in vain, + Yet they who hear it shed their age, + And take their youth again. + + II + + Hear what British Merlin sung, + Of keenest eye and truest tongue. + Say not, the chiefs who first arrive + Usurp the seats for which all strive; + The forefathers this land who found + Failed to plant the vantage-ground; + Ever from one who comes to-morrow + Men wait their good and truth to borrow. + But wilt thou measure all thy road, + See thou lift the lightest load. + Who has little, to him who has less, can spare, + And thou, Cyndyllan's son! beware + Ponderous gold and stuffs to bear, + To falter ere thou thy task fulfil,— + Only the light-armed climb the hill. + The richest of all lords is Use, + And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse. + Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, + Drink the wild air's salubrity: + When the star Canope shines in May, + Shepherds are thankful and nations gay. + The music that can deepest reach, + And cure all ill, is cordial speech: + Mask thy wisdom with delight, + Toy with the bow, yet hit the white. + Of all wit's uses, the main one + Is to live well with who has none. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Musa loquitur.) + + I hung my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults may find. + All were winnowed through and through, + Five lines lasted sound and true; + Five were smelted in a pot + Than the South more fierce and hot; + These the siroc could not melt, + Fire their fiercer flaming felt, + And the meaning was more white + Than July's meridian light. + Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, + Nor time unmake what poets know. + Have you eyes to find the five + Which five hundred did survive? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SOLUTION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am the Muse who sung alway + By Jove, at dawn of the first day. + Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wrought + To fire the stagnant earth with thought: + On spawning slime my song prevails, + Wolves shed their fangs, and dragons scales; + Flushed in the sky the sweet May-morn, + Earth smiled with flowers, and man was born. + Then Asia yeaned her shepherd race, + And Nile substructs her granite base,— + Tented Tartary, columned Nile,— + And, under vines, on rocky isle, + Or on wind-blown sea-marge bleak, + Forward stepped the perfect Greek: + That wit and joy might find a tongue, + And earth grow civil, HOMER sung. + + Flown to Italy from Greece, + I brooded long and held my peace, + For I am wont to sing uncalled, + And in days of evil plight + Unlock doors of new delight; + And sometimes mankind I appalled + With a bitter horoscope, + With spasms of terror for balm of hope. + Then by better thought I lead + Bards to speak what nations need; + So I folded me in fears, + And DANTE searched the triple spheres, + Moulding Nature at his will, + So shaped, so colored, swift or still, + And, sculptor-like, his large design + Etched on Alp and Apennine. + + Seethed in mists of Penmanmaur, + Taught by Plinlimmon's Druid power, + England's genius filled all measure + Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, + Gave to the mind its emperor, + And life was larger than before: + Nor sequent centuries could hit + Orbit and sum of SHAKSPEARE'S wit. + The men who lived with him became + Poets, for the air was fame. + + Far in the North, where polar night + Holds in check the frolic light, + In trance upborne past mortal goal + The Swede EMANUEL leads the soul. + Through snows above, mines underground, + The inks of Erebus he found; + Rehearsed to men the damned wails + On which the seraph music sails. + In spirit-worlds he trod alone, + But walked the earth unmarked, unknown, + The near bystander caught no sound,— + Yet they who listened far aloof + Heard rendings of the skyey roof, + And felt, beneath, the quaking ground; + And his air-sown, unheeded words, + In the next age, are flaming swords. + + In newer days of war and trade, + Romance forgot, and faith decayed, + When Science armed and guided war, + And clerks the Janus-gates unbar, + When France, where poet never grew, + Halved and dealt the globe anew, + GOETHE, raised o'er joy and strife, + Drew the firm lines of Fate and Life + And brought Olympian wisdom down + To court and mart, to gown and town. + Stooping, his finger wrote in clay + The open secret of to-day. + + So bloom the unfading petals five, + And verses that all verse outlive. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION + OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS + + We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;— + In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod. + + Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, + And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place. + + And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, + And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife. + + From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, + And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again; + + For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, + Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below. + + They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, + And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way. + + On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, + Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Winters know + Easily to shed the snow, + And the untaught Spring is wise + In cowslips and anemonies. + Nature, hating art and pains, + Baulks and baffles plotting brains; + Casualty and Surprise + Are the apples of her eyes; + But she dearly loves the poor, + And, by marvel of her own, + Strikes the loud pretender down. + For Nature listens in the rose + And hearkens in the berry's bell + To help her friends, to plague her foes, + And like wise God she judges well. + Yet doth much her love excel + To the souls that never fell, + To swains that live in happiness + And do well because they please, + Who walk in ways that are unfamed, + And feats achieve before they're named. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She is gamesome and good, + But of mutable mood,— + No dreary repeater now and again, + She will be all things to all men. + She who is old, but nowise feeble, + Pours her power into the people, + Merry and manifold without bar, + Makes and moulds them what they are, + And what they call their city way + Is not their way, but hers, + And what they say they made to-day, + They learned of the oaks and firs. + She spawneth men as mallows fresh, + Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; + She drugs her water and her wheat + With the flavors she finds meet, + And gives them what to drink and eat; + And having thus their bread and growth, + They do her bidding, nothing loath. + What's most theirs is not their own, + But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, + And in their vaunted works of Art + The master-stroke is still her part. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ROMANY GIRL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun goes down, and with him takes + The coarseness of my poor attire; + The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame + Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. + + Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; + You captives of your air-tight halls, + Wear out indoors your sickly days, + But leave us the horizon walls. + + And if I take you, dames, to task, + And say it frankly without guile, + Then you are Gypsies in a mask, + And I the lady all the while. + + If on the heath, below the moon, + I court and play with paler blood, + Me false to mine dare whisper none,— + One sallow horseman knows me good. + + Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, + For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; + My swarthy tint is in the grain, + The rocks and forest know it real. + + The wild air bloweth in our lungs, + The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, + The birds gave us our wily tongues, + The panther in our dances flies. + + You doubt we read the stars on high, + Nathless we read your fortunes true; + The stars may hide in the upper sky, + But without glass we fathom you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DAYS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, + Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, + And marching single in an endless file, + Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. + To each they offer gifts after his will, + Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. + I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, + Forgot my morning wishes, hastily + Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day + Turned and departed silent. I, too late, + Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MY GARDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I could put my woods in song + And tell what's there enjoyed, + All men would to my gardens throng, + And leave the cities void. + + In my plot no tulips blow,— + Snow-loving pines and oaks instead; + And rank the savage maples grow + From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red. + + My garden is a forest ledge + Which older forests bound; + The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, + Then plunge to depths profound. + + Here once the Deluge ploughed, + Laid the terraces, one by one; + Ebbing later whence it flowed, + They bleach and dry in the sun. + + The sowers made haste to depart,— + The wind and the birds which sowed it; + Not for fame, nor by rules of art, + Planted these, and tempests flowed it. + + Waters that wash my garden-side + Play not in Nature's lawful web, + They heed not moon or solar tide,— + Five years elapse from flood to ebb. + + Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, + And every god,—none did refuse; + And be sure at last came Love, + And after Love, the Muse. + + Keen ears can catch a syllable, + As if one spake to another, + In the hemlocks tall, untamable, + And what the whispering grasses smother. + + Aeolian harps in the pine + Ring with the song of the Fates; + Infant Bacchus in the vine,— + Far distant yet his chorus waits. + + Canst thou copy in verse one chime + Of the wood-bell's peal and cry, + Write in a book the morning's prime, + Or match with words that tender sky? + + Wonderful verse of the gods, + Of one import, of varied tone; + They chant the bliss of their abodes + To man imprisoned in his own. + + Ever the words of the gods resound; + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear. + + Wandering voices in the air + And murmurs in the wold + Speak what I cannot declare, + Yet cannot all withhold. + + When the shadow fell on the lake, + The whirlwind in ripples wrote + Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, + And omens above thought. + + But the meanings cleave to the lake, + Cannot be carried in book or urn; + Go thy ways now, come later back, + On waves and hedges still they burn. + + These the fates of men forecast, + Of better men than live to-day; + If who can read them comes at last + He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Day! hast thou two faces, + Making one place two places? + One, by humble farmer seen, + Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, + Useful only, triste and damp, + Serving for a laborer's lamp? + Have the same mists another side, + To be the appanage of pride, + Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, + His park where amber mornings break, + And treacherously bright to show + His planted isle where roses glow? + O Day! and is your mightiness + A sycophant to smug success? + Will the sweet sky and ocean broad + Be fine accomplices to fraud? + O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray: + Back, back to chaos, harlot Day! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TITMOUSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You shall not be overbold + When you deal with arctic cold, + As late I found my lukewarm blood + Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. + How should I fight? my foeman fine + Has million arms to one of mine: + East, west, for aid I looked in vain, + East, west, north, south, are his domain. + Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; + Must borrow his winds who there would come. + Up and away for life! be fleet!— + The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, + Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, + Curdles the blood to the marble bones, + Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, + And hems in life with narrowing fence. + Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,— + The punctual stars will vigil keep,— + Embalmed by purifying cold; + The winds shall sing their dead-march old, + The snow is no ignoble shroud, + The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. + + Softly,—but this way fate was pointing, + 'T was coming fast to such anointing, + When piped a tiny voice hard by, + Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, + <i>Chic-chic-a-dee-de!</i> saucy note + Out of sound heart and merry throat, + As if it said, 'Good day, good sir! + Fine afternoon, old passenger! + Happy to meet you in these places, + Where January brings few faces.' + + This poet, though he live apart, + Moved by his hospitable heart, + Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, + To do the honors of his court, + As fits a feathered lord of land; + Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, + Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, + Prints his small impress on the snow, + Shows feats of his gymnastic play, + Head downward, clinging to the spray. + + Here was this atom in full breath, + Hurling defiance at vast death; + This scrap of valor just for play + Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, + As if to shame my weak behavior; + I greeted loud my little savior, + 'You pet! what dost here? and what for? + In these woods, thy small Labrador, + At this pinch, wee San Salvador! + What fire burns in that little chest + So frolic, stout and self-possest? + Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine; + Ashes and jet all hues outshine. + Why are not diamonds black and gray, + To ape thy dare-devil array? + And I affirm, the spacious North + Exists to draw thy virtue forth. + I think no virtue goes with size; + The reason of all cowardice + Is, that men are overgrown, + And, to be valiant, must come down + To the titmouse dimension.' + + 'T is good will makes intelligence, + And I began to catch the sense + Of my bird's song: 'Live out of doors + In the great woods, on prairie floors. + I dine in the sun; when he sinks in the sea, + I too have a hole in a hollow tree; + And I like less when Summer beats + With stifling beams on these retreats, + Than noontide twilights which snow makes + With tempest of the blinding flakes. + For well the soul, if stout within, + Can arm impregnably the skin; + And polar frost my frame defied, + Made of the air that blows outside.' + + With glad remembrance of my debt, + I homeward turn; farewell, my pet! + When here again thy pilgrim comes, + He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. + Doubt not, so long as earth has bread, + Thou first and foremost shalt be fed; + The Providence that is most large + Takes hearts like thine in special charge, + Helps who for their own need are strong, + And the sky doats on cheerful song. + Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant + O'er all that mass and minster vaunt; + For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, + As 't would accost some frivolous wing, + Crying out of the hazel copse, <i>Phe-be!</i> + And, in winter, <i>Chic-a-dee-dee!</i> + I think old Caesar must have heard + In northern Gaul my dauntless bird, + And, echoed in some frosty wold, + Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. + And I will write our annals new, + And thank thee for a better clew, + I, who dreamed not when I came here + To find the antidote of fear, + Now hear thee say in Roman key, + <i>Paean! Veni, vidi, vici.</i> +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HARP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One musician is sure, + His wisdom will not fail, + He has not tasted wine impure, + Nor bent to passion frail. + Age cannot cloud his memory, + Nor grief untune his voice, + Ranging down the ruled scale + From tone of joy to inward wail, + Tempering the pitch of all + In his windy cave. + He all the fables knows, + And in their causes tells,— + Knows Nature's rarest moods, + Ever on her secret broods. + The Muse of men is coy, + Oft courted will not come; + In palaces and market squares + Entreated, she is dumb; + But my minstrel knows and tells + The counsel of the gods, + Knows of Holy Book the spells, + Knows the law of Night and Day, + And the heart of girl and boy, + The tragic and the gay, + And what is writ on Table Round + Of Arthur and his peers; + What sea and land discoursing say + In sidereal years. + He renders all his lore + In numbers wild as dreams, + Modulating all extremes,— + What the spangled meadow saith + To the children who have faith; + Only to children children sing, + Only to youth will spring be spring. + + Who is the Bard thus magnified? + When did he sing? and where abide? + + Chief of song where poets feast + Is the wind-harp which thou seest + In the casement at my side. + + Aeolian harp, + How strangely wise thy strain! + Gay for youth, gay for youth, + (Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,) + In the hall at summer eve + Fate and Beauty skilled to weave. + From the eager opening strings + Rung loud and bold the song. + Who but loved the wind-harp's note? + How should not the poet doat + On its mystic tongue, + With its primeval memory, + Reporting what old minstrels told + Of Merlin locked the harp within,— + Merlin paying the pain of sin, + Pent in a dungeon made of air,— + And some attain his voice to hear, + Words of pain and cries of fear, + But pillowed all on melody, + As fits the griefs of bards to be. + And what if that all-echoing shell, + Which thus the buried Past can tell, + Should rive the Future, and reveal + What his dread folds would fain conceal? + It shares the secret of the earth, + And of the kinds that owe her birth. + Speaks not of self that mystic tone, + But of the Overgods alone: + It trembles to the cosmic breath,— + As it heareth, so it saith; + Obeying meek the primal Cause, + It is the tongue of mundane laws. + And this, at least, I dare affirm, + Since genius too has bound and term, + There is no bard in all the choir, + Not Homer's self, the poet sire, + Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, + Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure, + Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, + Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, + Scott, the delight of generous boys, + Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,— + Not one of all can put in verse, + Or to this presence could rehearse + The sights and voices ravishing + The boy knew on the hills in spring, + When pacing through the oaks he heard + Sharp queries of the sentry-bird, + The heavy grouse's sudden whir, + The rattle of the kingfisher; + Saw bonfires of the harlot flies + In the lowland, when day dies; + Or marked, benighted and forlorn, + The first far signal-fire of morn. + These syllables that Nature spoke, + And the thoughts that in him woke, + Can adequately utter none + Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. + Therein I hear the Parcae reel + The threads of man at their humming wheel, + The threads of life and power and pain, + So sweet and mournful falls the strain. + And best can teach its Delphian chord + How Nature to the soul is moored, + If once again that silent string, + As erst it wont, would thrill and ring. + + Not long ago at eventide, + It seemed, so listening, at my side + A window rose, and, to say sooth, + I looked forth on the fields of youth: + I saw fair boys bestriding steeds, + I knew their forms in fancy weeds, + Long, long concealed by sundering fates, + Mates of my youth,—yet not my mates, + Stronger and bolder far than I, + With grace, with genius, well attired, + And then as now from far admired, + Followed with love + They knew not of, + With passion cold and shy. + O joy, for what recoveries rare! + Renewed, I breathe Elysian air, + See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,— + Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb! + Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil + Of life resurgent from the soil + Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEASHORE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea + Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? + Am I not always here, thy summer home? + Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? + My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, + My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? + Was ever building like my terraces? + Was ever couch magnificent as mine? + Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn + A little hut suffices like a town. + I make your sculptured architecture vain, + Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, + And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. + Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, + Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs + Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab + Older than all thy race. + + Behold the Sea, + The opaline, the plentiful and strong, + Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, + Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; + Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, + Purger of earth, and medicine of men; + Creating a sweet climate by my breath, + Washing out harms and griefs from memory, + And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, + Giving a hint of that which changes not. + Rich are the sea-gods:—who gives gifts but they? + They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: + They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. + For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, + Wealth to the cunning artist who can work + This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! + A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? + + I with my hammer pounding evermore + The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, + Strewing my bed, and, in another age, + Rebuild a continent of better men. + Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out + The exodus of nations: I disperse + Men to all shores that front the hoary main. + + I too have arts and sorceries; + Illusion dwells forever with the wave. + I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal + With credulous and imaginative man; + For, though he scoop my water in his palm, + A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. + Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, + I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, + To distant men, who must go there, or die. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONG OF NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mine are the night and morning, + The pits of air, the gulf of space, + The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, + The innumerable days. + + I hide in the solar glory, + I am dumb in the pealing song, + I rest on the pitch of the torrent, + In slumber I am strong. + + No numbers have counted my tallies, + No tribes my house can fill, + I sit by the shining Fount of Life + And pour the deluge still; + + And ever by delicate powers + Gathering along the centuries + From race on race the rarest flowers, + My wreath shall nothing miss. + + And many a thousand summers + My gardens ripened well, + And light from meliorating stars + With firmer glory fell. + + I wrote the past in characters + Of rock and fire the scroll, + The building in the coral sea, + The planting of the coal. + + And thefts from satellites and rings + And broken stars I drew, + And out of spent and aged things + I formed the world anew; + + What time the gods kept carnival, + Tricked out in star and flower, + And in cramp elf and saurian forms + They swathed their too much power. + + Time and Thought were my surveyors, + They laid their courses well, + They boiled the sea, and piled the layers + Of granite, marl and shell. + + But he, the man-child glorious,— + Where tarries he the while? + The rainbow shines his harbinger, + The sunset gleams his smile. + + My boreal lights leap upward, + Forthright my planets roll, + And still the man-child is not born, + The summit of the whole. + + Must time and tide forever run? + Will never my winds go sleep in the west? + Will never my wheels which whirl the sun + And satellites have rest? + + Too much of donning and doffing, + Too slow the rainbow fades, + I weary of my robe of snow, + My leaves and my cascades; + + I tire of globes and races, + Too long the game is played; + What without him is summer's pomp, + Or winter's frozen shade? + + I travail in pain for him, + My creatures travail and wait; + His couriers come by squadrons, + He comes not to the gate. + + Twice I have moulded an image, + And thrice outstretched my hand, + Made one of day and one of night + And one of the salt sea-sand. + + One in a Judaean manger, + And one by Avon stream, + One over against the mouths of Nile, + And one in the Academe. + + I moulded kings and saviors, + And bards o'er kings to rule;— + But fell the starry influence short, + The cup was never full. + + Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more, + And mix the bowl again; + Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements, + Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain. + + Let war and trade and creeds and song + Blend, ripen race on race, + The sunburnt world a man shall breed + Of all the zones and countless days. + + No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, + My oldest force is good as new, + And the fresh rose on yonder thorn + Gives back the bending heavens in dew. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO RIVERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, + Repeats the music of the rain; + But sweeter rivers pulsing flit + Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. + + Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: + The stream I love unbounded goes + Through flood and sea and firmament; + Through light, through life, it forward flows. + + I see the inundation sweet, + I hear the spending of the stream + Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, + Through love and thought, through power and dream. + + Musketaquit, a goblin strong, + Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; + They lose their grief who hear his song, + And where he winds is the day of day. + + So forth and brighter fares my stream,— + Who drink it shall not thirst again; + No darkness stains its equal gleam. + And ages drop in it like rain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WALDEINSAMKEIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not count the hours I spend + In wandering by the sea; + The forest is my loyal friend, + Like God it useth me. + + In plains that room for shadows make + Of skirting hills to lie, + Bound in by streams which give and take + Their colors from the sky; + + Or on the mountain-crest sublime, + Or down the oaken glade, + O what have I to do with time? + For this the day was made. + + Cities of mortals woe-begone + Fantastic care derides, + But in the serious landscape lone + Stern benefit abides. + + Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, + And merry is only a mask of sad, + But, sober on a fund of joy, + The woods at heart are glad. + + There the great Planter plants + Of fruitful worlds the grain, + And with a million spells enchants + The souls that walk in pain. + + Still on the seeds of all he made + The rose of beauty burns; + Through times that wear and forms that fade, + Immortal youth returns. + + The black ducks mounting from the lake, + The pigeon in the pines, + The bittern's boom, a desert make + Which no false art refines. + + Down in yon watery nook, + Where bearded mists divide, + The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, + The sires of Nature, hide. + + Aloft, in secret veins of air, + Blows the sweet breath of song, + O, few to scale those uplands dare, + Though they to all belong! + + See thou bring not to field or stone + The fancies found in books; + Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, + To brave the landscape's looks. + + Oblivion here thy wisdom is, + Thy thrift, the sleep of cares; + For a proud idleness like this + Crowns all thy mean affairs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TERMINUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is time to be old, + To take in sail:— + The god of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds, + And said: 'No more! + No farther shoot + Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. + Fancy departs: no more invent; + Contract thy firmament + To compass of a tent. + There's not enough for this and that, + Make thy option which of two; + Economize the failing river, + Not the less revere the Giver, + Leave the many and hold the few. + Timely wise accept the terms, + Soften the fall with wary foot; + A little while + Still plan and smile, + And,—fault of novel germs,— + Mature the unfallen fruit. + Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, + Bad husbands of their fires, + Who, when they gave thee breath, + Failed to bequeath + The needful sinew stark as once, + The Baresark marrow to thy bones, + But left a legacy of ebbing veins, + Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,— + Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, + Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' + + As the bird trims her to the gale, + I trim myself to the storm of time, + I man the rudder, reef the sail, + Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: + 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, + Right onward drive unharmed; + The port, well worth the cruise, is near, + And every wave is charmed.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The yesterday doth never smile, + The day goes drudging through the while, + Yet, in the name of Godhead, I + The morrow front, and can defy; + Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, + Cannot withhold his conquering aid. + Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, + If He should make my web a blot + On life's fair picture of delight, + My heart's content would find it right. + But O, these waves and leaves,— + When happy stoic Nature grieves, + No human speech so beautiful + As their murmurs mine to lull. + On this altar God hath built + I lay my vanity and guilt; + Nor me can Hope or Passion urge + Hearing as now the lofty dirge + Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, + Nature's funeral high and dim,— + Sable pageantry of clouds, + Mourning summer laid in shrouds. + Many a day shall dawn and die, + Many an angel wander by, + And passing, light my sunken turf + Moist perhaps by ocean surf, + Forgotten amid splendid tombs, + Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. + On earth I dream;—I die to be: + Time, shake not thy bald head at me. + I challenge thee to hurry past + Or for my turn to fly too fast. + Think me not numbed or halt with age, + Or cares that earth to earth engage, + Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, + Or mired by climate's gross extremes. + I tire of shams, I rush to be: + I pass with yonder comet free,— + Pass with the comet into space + Which mocks thy aeons to embrace; + Aeons which tardily unfold + Realm beyond realm,—extent untold; + No early morn, no evening late,— + Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, + Whose shining sons, too great for fame, + Never heard thy weary name; + Nor lives the tragic bard to say + How drear the part I held in one, + How lame the other limped away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APRIL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The April winds are magical + And thrill our tuneful frames; + The garden walks are passional + To bachelors and dames. + The hedge is gemmed with diamonds, + The air with Cupids full, + The cobweb clues of Rosamond + Guide lovers to the pool. + Each dimple in the water, + Each leaf that shades the rock + Can cozen, pique and flatter, + Can parley and provoke. + Goodfellow, Puck and goblins, + Know more than any book. + Down with your doleful problems, + And court the sunny brook. + The south-winds are quick-witted, + The schools are sad and slow, + The masters quite omitted + The lore we care to know. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Soft and softlier hold me, friends! + Thanks if your genial care + Unbind and give me to the air. + Keep your lips or finger-tips + For flute or spinet's dancing chips; + I await a tenderer touch, + I ask more or not so much: + Give me to the atmosphere,— + Where is the wind, my brother,—where? + Lift the sash, lay me within, + Lend me your ears, and I begin. + For gentle harp to gentle hearts + The secret of the world imparts; + And not to-day and not to-morrow + Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; + But day by day, to loving ear + Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. + I've come to live with you, sweet friends, + This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. + Many and subtle are my lays, + The latest better than the first, + For I can mend the happiest days + And charm the anguish of the worst. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CUPIDO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The solid, solid universe + Is pervious to Love; + With bandaged eyes he never errs, + Around, below, above. + His blinding light + He flingeth white + On God's and Satan's brood, + And reconciles + By mystic wiles + The evil and the good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PAST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The debt is paid, + The verdict said, + The Furies laid, + The plague is stayed. + All fortunes made; + Turn the key and bolt the door, + Sweet is death forevermore. + Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, + Nor murdering hate, can enter in. + All is now secure and fast; + Not the gods can shake the Past; + Flies-to the adamantine door + Bolted down forevermore. + None can reënter there,— + No thief so politic, + No Satan with a royal trick + Steal in by window, chink, or hole, + To bind or unbind, add what lacked, + Insert a leaf, or forge a name, + New-face or finish what is packed, + Alter or mend eternal Fact. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LAST FAREWELL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, + EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT + OF BOSTON HARBOR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF + PORTO RICO, IN 1832 + + Farewell, ye lofty spires + That cheered the holy light! + Farewell, domestic fires + That broke the gloom of night! + Too soon those spires are lost, + Too fast we leave the bay, + Too soon by ocean tost + From hearth and home away, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell the busy town, + The wealthy and the wise, + Kind smile and honest frown + From bright, familiar eyes. + All these are fading now; + Our brig hastes on her way, + Her unremembering prow + Is leaping o'er the sea, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, my mother fond, + Too kind, too good to me; + Nor pearl nor diamond + Would pay my debt to thee. + But even thy kiss denies + Upon my cheek to stay; + The winged vessel flies, + And billows round her play, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, my brothers true, + My betters, yet my peers; + How desert without you + My few and evil years! + But though aye one in heart, + Together sad or gay, + Rude ocean doth us part; + We separate to-day, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, thou fairest one, + Unplighted yet to me, + Uncertain of thine own + I gave my heart to thee. + That untold early love + I leave untold to-day, + My lips in whisper move + Farewell to ...! + Far away, far away. + + Farewell I breathe again + To dim New England's shore, + My heart shall beat not when + I pant for thee no more. + In yon green palmy isle, + Beneath the tropic ray, + I murmur never while + For thee and thine I pray; + Far away, far away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0100" id="link2H_4_0100"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I mourn upon this battle-field, + But not for those who perished here. + Behold the river-bank + Whither the angry farmers came, + In sloven dress and broken rank, + Nor thought of fame. + Their deed of blood + All mankind praise; + Even the serene Reason says, + It was well done. + The wise and simple have one glance + To greet yon stern head-stone, + Which more of pride than pity gave + To mark the Briton's friendless grave. + Yet it is a stately tomb; + The grand return + Of eve and morn, + The year's fresh bloom, + The silver cloud, + Might grace the dust that is most proud. + + Yet not of these I muse + In this ancestral place, + But of a kindred face + That never joy or hope shall here diffuse. + + Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! + What hast thou to do with these + Haunting this bank's historic trees? + Thou born for noblest life, + For action's field, for victor's car, + Thou living champion of the right? + To these their penalty belonged: + I grudge not these their bed of death, + But thine to thee, who never wronged + The poorest that drew breath. + + All inborn power that could + Consist with homage to the good + Flamed from his martial eye; + He who seemed a soldier born, + He should have the helmet worn, + All friends to fend, all foes defy, + Fronting foes of God and man, + Frowning down the evil-doer, + Battling for the weak and poor. + His from youth the leader's look + Gave the law which others took, + And never poor beseeching glance + Shamed that sculptured countenance. + + There is no record left on earth, + Save in tablets of the heart, + Of the rich inherent worth, + Of the grace that on him shone, + Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit: + He could not frame a word unfit, + An act unworthy to be done; + Honor prompted every glance, + Honor came and sat beside him, + In lowly cot or painful road, + And evermore the cruel god + Cried "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed, + Born for success he seemed, + With grace to win, with heart to hold, + With shining gifts that took all eyes, + With budding power in college-halls, + As pledged in coming days to forge + Weapons to guard the State, or scourge + Tyrants despite their guards or walls. + On his young promise Beauty smiled, + Drew his free homage unbeguiled, + And prosperous Age held out his hand, + And richly his large future planned, + And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,— + All, all was given, and only health denied. + + I see him with superior smile + Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train + In lands remote, in toil and pain, + With angel patience labor on, + With the high port he wore erewhile, + When, foremost of the youthful band, + The prizes in all lists he won; + Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, + And, least of all, the loyal tie + Which holds to home 'neath every sky, + The joy and pride the pilgrim feels + In hearts which round the hearth at home + Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam. + + What generous beliefs console + The brave whom Fate denies the goal! + If others reach it, is content; + To Heaven's high will his will is bent. + Firm on his heart relied, + What lot soe'er betide, + Work of his hand + He nor repents nor grieves, + Pleads for itself the fact, + As unrepenting Nature leaves + Her every act. + + Fell the bolt on the branching oak; + The rainbow of his hope was broke; + No craven cry, no secret tear,— + He told no pang, he knew no fear; + Its peace sublime his aspect kept, + His purpose woke, his features slept; + And yet between the spasms of pain + His genius beamed with joy again. + + O'er thy rich dust the endless smile + Of Nature in thy Spanish isle + Hints never loss or cruel break + And sacrifice for love's dear sake, + Nor mourn the unalterable Days + That Genius goes and Folly stays. + What matters how, or from what ground, + The freed soul its Creator found? + Alike thy memory embalms + That orange-grove, that isle of palms, + And these loved banks, whose oak-bough bold + Root in the blood of heroes old. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0101" id="link2H_4_0101"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III — ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0102" id="link2H_4_0102"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EXPERIENCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The lords of life, the lords of life,— + I saw them pass + In their own guise, + Like and unlike, + Portly and grim,— + Use and Surprise, + Surface and Dream, + Succession swift and spectral Wrong, + Temperament without a tongue, + And the inventor of the game + Omnipresent without name;— + Some to see, some to be guessed, + They marched from east to west: + Little man, least of all, + Among the legs of his guardians tall, + Walked about with puzzled look. + Him by the hand dear Nature took, + Dearest Nature, strong and kind, + Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! + To-morrow they will wear another face, + The founder thou; these are thy race!' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0103" id="link2H_4_0103"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The wings of Time are black and white, + Pied with morning and with night. + Mountain tall and ocean deep + Trembling balance duly keep. + In changing moon and tidal wave + Glows the feud of Want and Have. + Gauge of more and less through space, + Electric star or pencil plays, + The lonely Earth amid the balls + That hurry through the eternal halls, + A makeweight flying to the void, + Supplemental asteroid, + Or compensatory spark, + Shoots across the neutral Dark. + + Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; + Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: + Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, + None from its stock that vine can reave. + Fear not, then, thou child infirm, + There's no god dare wrong a worm; + Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, + And power to him who power exerts. + Hast not thy share? On winged feet, + Lo it rushes thee to meet; + And all that Nature made thy own, + Floating in air or pent in stone, + Will rive the hills and swim the sea, + And, like thy shadow, follow thee. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0104" id="link2H_4_0104"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POLITICS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gold and iron are good + To buy iron and gold; + All earth's fleece and food + For their like are sold. + Boded Merlin wise, + Proved Napoleon great, + Nor kind nor coinage buys + Aught above its rate. + Fear, Craft and Avarice + Cannot rear a State. + Out of dust to build + What is more than dust, + Walls Amphion piled + Phoebus stablish must. + When the Muses nine + With the Virtues meet, + Find to their design + An Atlantic seat, + By green orchard boughs + Fended from the heat, + here the statesman ploughs + Furrow for the wheat,— + When the Church is social worth, + When the state-house is the hearth, + Then the perfect State is come, + The republican at home. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0105" id="link2H_4_0105"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HEROISM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, + Sugar spends to fatten slaves, + Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; + Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, + Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, + Lightning-knotted round his head; + The hero is not fed on sweets, + Daily his own heart he eats; + Chambers of the great are jails, + And head-winds right for royal sails. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0106" id="link2H_4_0106"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHARACTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun set, but set not his hope: + Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: + Fixed on the enormous galaxy, + Deeper and older seemed his eye; + And matched his sufferance sublime + The taciturnity of time. + He spoke, and words more soft than rain + Brought the Age of Gold again: + His action won such reverence sweet + As hid all measure of the feat. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0107" id="link2H_4_0107"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CULTURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Can rules or tutors educate + The semigod whom we await? + He must be musical, + Tremulous, impressional, + Alive to gentle influence + Of landscape and of sky, + And tender to the spirit-touch + Of man's or maiden's eye: + But, to his native centre fast, + Shall into Future fuse the Past, + And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0108" id="link2H_4_0108"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRIENDSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A ruddy drop of manly blood + The surging sea outweighs, + The world uncertain comes and goes; + The lover rooted stays. + I fancied he was fled,— + And, after many a year, + Glowed unexhausted kindliness, + Like daily sunrise there. + My careful heart was free again, + O friend, my bosom said, + Through thee alone the sky is arched, + Through thee the rose is red; + All things through thee take nobler form, + And look beyond the earth, + The mill-round of our fate appears + A sun-path in thy worth. + Me too thy nobleness has taught + To master my despair; + The fountains of my hidden life + Are through thy friendship fair. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0109" id="link2H_4_0109"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SPIRITUAL LAWS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The living Heaven thy prayers respect, + House at once and architect, + Quarrying man's rejected hours, + Builds therewith eternal towers; + Sole and self-commanded works, + Fears not undermining days, + Grows by decays, + And, by the famous might that lurks + In reaction and recoil, + Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; + Forging, through swart arms of Offence, + The silver seat of Innocence. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0110" id="link2H_4_0110"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BEAUTY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Was never form and never face + So sweet to SEYD as only grace + Which did not slumber like a stone, + But hovered gleaming and was gone. + Beauty chased he everywhere, + In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. + He smote the lake to feed his eye + With the beryl beam of the broken wave; + He flung in pebbles well to hear + The moment's music which they gave. + Oft pealed for him a lofty tone + From nodding pole and belting zone. + He heard a voice none else could hear + From centred and from errant sphere. + The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, + Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. + In dens of passion, and pits of woe, + He saw strong Eros struggling through, + To sun the dark and solve the curse, + And beam to the bounds of the universe. + While thus to love he gave his days + In loyal worship, scorning praise, + How spread their lures for him in vain + Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! + He thought it happier to be dead, + To die for Beauty, than live for bread. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0111" id="link2H_4_0111"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MANNERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Grace, Beauty and Caprice + Build this golden portal; + Graceful women, chosen men, + Dazzle every mortal. + Their sweet and lofty countenance + His enchanted food; + He need not go to them, their forms + Beset his solitude. + He looketh seldom in their face, + His eyes explore the ground,— + The green grass is a looking-glass + Whereon their traits are found. + Little and less he says to them, + So dances his heart in his breast; + Their tranquil mien bereaveth him + Of wit, of words, of rest. + Too weak to win, too fond to shun + The tyrants of his doom, + The much deceived Endymion + Slips behind a tomb. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0112" id="link2H_4_0112"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ART + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give to barrows, trays and pans + Grace and glimmer of romance; + Bring the moonlight into noon + Hid in gleaming piles of stone; + On the city's paved street + Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; + Let spouting fountains cool the air, + Singing in the sun-baked square; + Let statue, picture, park and hall, + Ballad, flag and festival, + The past restore, the day adorn, + And make to-morrow a new morn. + So shall the drudge in dusty frock + Spy behind the city clock + Retinues of airy kings, + Skirts of angels, starry wings, + His fathers shining in bright fables, + His children fed at heavenly tables. + 'T is the privilege of Art + Thus to play its cheerful part, + Man on earth to acclimate + And bend the exile to his fate, + And, moulded of one element + With the days and firmament, + Teach him on these as stairs to climb, + And live on even terms with Time; + Whilst upper life the slender rill + Of human sense doth overfill. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0113" id="link2H_4_0113"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNITY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Space is ample, east and west, + But two cannot go abreast, + Cannot travel in it two: + Yonder masterful cuckoo + Crowds every egg out of the nest, + Quick or dead, except its own; + A spell is laid on sod and stone, + Night and Day were tampered with, + Every quality and pith + Surcharged and sultry with a power + That works its will on age and hour. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0114" id="link2H_4_0114"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WORSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is he, who, felled by foes, + Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: + He to captivity was sold, + But him no prison-bars would hold: + Though they sealed him in a rock, + Mountain chains he can unlock: + Thrown to lions for their meat, + The crouching lion kissed his feet; + Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, + But arched o'er him an honoring vault. + This is he men miscall Fate, + Threading dark ways, arriving late, + But ever coming in time to crown + The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. + He is the oldest, and best known, + More near than aught thou call'st thy own, + Yet, greeted in another's eyes, + Disconcerts with glad surprise. + This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, + Floods with blessings unawares. + Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line + Severing rightly his from thine, + Which is human, which divine. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0115" id="link2H_4_0115"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PRUDENCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Theme no poet gladly sung, + Fair to old and foul to young; + Scorn not thou the love of parts, + And the articles of arts. + Grandeur of the perfect sphere + Thanks the atoms that cohere. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0116" id="link2H_4_0116"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + A subtle chain of countless rings + The next unto the farthest brings; + The eye reads omens where it goes, + And speaks all languages the rose; + And, striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form. + + II + + The rounded world is fair to see, + Nine times folded in mystery: + Though baffled seers cannot impart + The secret of its laboring heart, + Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, + And all is clear from east to west. + Spirit that lurks each form within + Beckons to spirit of its kin; + Self-kindled every atom glows + And hints the future which it owes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0117" id="link2H_4_0117"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INFORMING SPIRIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + There is no great and no small + To the Soul that maketh all: + And where it cometh, all things are; + And it cometh everywhere. + + II + + I am owner of the sphere, + Of the seven stars and the solar year, + Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, + Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0118" id="link2H_4_0118"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIRCLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nature centres into balls, + And her proud ephemerals, + Fast to surface and outside, + Scan the profile of the sphere; + Knew they what that signified, + A new genesis were here. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0119" id="link2H_4_0119"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTELLECT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go, speed the stars of Thought + On to their shining goals;— + The sower scatters broad his seed; + The wheat thou strew'st be souls. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0120" id="link2H_4_0120"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIFTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gifts of one who loved me,— + 'T was high time they came; + When he ceased to love me, + Time they stopped for shame. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0121" id="link2H_4_0121"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROMISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In countless upward-striving waves + The moon-drawn tide-wave strives; + In thousand far-transplanted grafts + The parent fruit survives; + So, in the new-born millions, + The perfect Adam lives. + Not less are summer mornings dear + To every child they wake, + And each with novel life his sphere + Fills for his proper sake. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CARITAS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the suburb, in the town, + On the railway, in the square, + Came a beam of goodness down + Doubling daylight everywhere: + Peace now each for malice takes, + Beauty for his sinful weeds, + For the angel Hope aye makes + Him an angel whom she leads. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POWER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His tongue was framed to music, + And his hand was armed with skill; + His face was the mould of beauty, + And his heart the throne of will. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0124" id="link2H_4_0124"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WEALTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who shall tell what did befall, + Far away in time, when once, + Over the lifeless ball, + Hung idle stars and suns? + What god the element obeyed? + Wings of what wind the lichen bore, + Wafting the puny seeds of power, + Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade? + And well the primal pioneer + Knew the strong task to it assigned, + Patient through Heaven's enormous year + To build in matter home for mind. + From air the creeping centuries drew + The matted thicket low and wide, + This must the leaves of ages strew + The granite slab to clothe and hide, + Ere wheat can wave its golden pride. + What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled + (In dizzy aeons dim and mute + The reeling brain can ill compute) + Copper and iron, lead and gold? + What oldest star the fame can save + Of races perishing to pave + The planet with a floor of lime? + Dust is their pyramid and mole: + Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed + Under the tumbling mountain's breast, + In the safe herbal of the coal? + But when the quarried means were piled, + All is waste and worthless, till + Arrives the wise selecting will, + And, out of slime and chaos, Wit + Draws the threads of fair and fit. + Then temples rose, and towns, and marts, + The shop of toil, the hall of arts; + Then flew the sail across the seas + To feed the North from tropic trees; + The storm-wind wove, the torrent span, + Where they were bid, the rivers ran; + New slaves fulfilled the poet's dream, + Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam. + Then docks were built, and crops were stored, + And ingots added to the hoard. + But though light-headed man forget, + Remembering Matter pays her debt: + Still, through her motes and masses, draw + Electric thrills and ties of law, + Which bind the strengths of Nature wild + To the conscience of a child. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0125" id="link2H_4_0125"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ILLUSIONS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Flow, flow the waves hated, + Accursed, adored, + The waves of mutation; + No anchorage is. + Sleep is not, death is not; + Who seem to die live. + House you were born in, + Friends of your spring-time, + Old man and young maid, + Day's toil and its guerdon, + They are all vanishing, + Fleeing to fables, + Cannot be moored. + See the stars through them, + Through treacherous marbles. + Know the stars yonder, + The stars everlasting, + Are fugitive also, + And emulate, vaulted, + The lambent heat lightning + And fire-fly's flight. + + When thou dost return + On the wave's circulation, + Behold the shimmer, + The wild dissipation, + And, out of endeavor + To change and to flow, + The gas become solid, + And phantoms and nothings + Return to be things, + And endless imbroglio + Is law and the world,— + Then first shalt thou know, + That in the wild turmoil, + Horsed on the Proteus, + Thou ridest to power, + And to endurance. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0126" id="link2H_4_0126"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV — QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0127" id="link2H_4_0127"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + QUATRAINS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A.H. + + High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, + Her manners made of bounty well refined; + Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, + Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0128" id="link2H_4_0128"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HUSH! + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every thought is public, + Every nook is wide; + Thy gossips spread each whisper, + And the gods from side to side. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0129" id="link2H_4_0129"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ORATOR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who has no hands + Perforce must use his tongue; + Foxes are so cunning + Because they are not strong. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0130" id="link2H_4_0130"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ARTIST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Quit the hut, frequent the palace, + Reck not what the people say; + For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, + Huntsmen find the easiest way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0131" id="link2H_4_0131"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ever the Poet <i>from</i> the land + Steers his bark and trims his sail; + Right out to sea his courses stand, + New worlds to find in pinnace frail. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To clothe the fiery thought + In simple words succeeds, + For still the craft of genius is + To mask a king in weeds. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0133" id="link2H_4_0133"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOTANIST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go thou to thy learned task, + I stay with the flowers of Spring: + Do thou of the Ages ask + What me the Hours will bring. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0134" id="link2H_4_0134"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GARDENER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, + Expound the Vedas of the violet, + Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, + See the plum redden, and the beurré stoop. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0135" id="link2H_4_0135"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORESTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He took the color of his vest + From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; + For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, + So walks the woodman, unespied. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0136" id="link2H_4_0136"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NORTHMAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The gale that wrecked you on the sand, + It helped my rowers to row; + The storm is my best galley hand + And drives me where I go. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM ALCUIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sea is the road of the bold, + Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, + The pit wherein the streams are rolled + And fountain of the rains. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0138" id="link2H_4_0138"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EXCELSIOR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Over his head were the maple buds, + And over the tree was the moon, + And over the moon were the starry studs + That drop from the angels' shoon. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S.H. + + With beams December planets dart + His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, + July was in his sunny heart, + October in his liberal hand. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0139" id="link2H_4_0139"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BORROWING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM THE FRENCH + + Some of your hurts you have cured, + And the sharpest you still have survived, + But what torments of grief you endured + From evils which never arrived! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0140" id="link2H_4_0140"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, + And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: + But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, + Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0141" id="link2H_4_0141"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her planted eye to-day controls, + Is in the morrow most at home, + And sternly calls to being souls + That curse her when they come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0142" id="link2H_4_0142"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOROSCOPE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ere he was born, the stars of fate + Plotted to make him rich and great: + When from the womb the babe was loosed, + The gate of gifts behind him closed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0143" id="link2H_4_0143"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POWER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cast the bantling on the rocks, + Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, + Wintered with the hawk and fox, + Power and speed be hands and feet. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0144" id="link2H_4_0144"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLIMACTERIC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not wiser for my age, + Nor skilful by my grief; + Life loiters at the book's first page,— + Ah! could we turn the leaf. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0145" id="link2H_4_0145"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HERI, CRAS, HODIE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, + To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: + Future or Past no richer secret folds, + O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0146" id="link2H_4_0146"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMORY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall + Shadows of the thoughts of day, + And thy fortunes, as they fall, + The bias of the will betray. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0147" id="link2H_4_0147"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love on his errand bound to go + Can swim the flood and wade through snow, + Where way is none, 't will creep and wind + And eat through Alps its home to find. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0148" id="link2H_4_0148"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SACRIFICE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though love repine, and reason chafe, + There came a voice without reply,— + ''T is man's perdition to be safe, + When for the truth he ought to die.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0149" id="link2H_4_0149"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PERICLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well and wisely said the Greek, + Be thou faithful, but not fond; + To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,— + The Furies wait beyond. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0150" id="link2H_4_0150"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CASELLA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Test of the poet is knowledge of love, + For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; + Never was poet, of late or of yore, + Who was not tremulous with love-lore. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0151" id="link2H_4_0151"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SHAKSPEARE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I see all human wits + Are measured but a few; + Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, + Lone as the blessed Jew. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0152" id="link2H_4_0152"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HAFIZ + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her passions the shy violet + From Hafiz never hides; + Love-longings of the raptured bird + The bird to him confides. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0153" id="link2H_4_0153"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE IN LEASTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As sings the pine-tree in the wind, + So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; + Her strength and soul has laughing France + Shed in each drop of wine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Greek: ADAKRYN NEMONTAI AIONA] + + 'A New commandment,' said the smiling Muse, + 'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach';— + Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, + And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore + Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0154" id="link2H_4_0154"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSLATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0155" id="link2H_4_0155"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Never did sculptor's dream unfold + A form which marble doth not hold + In its white block; yet it therein shall find + Only the hand secure and bold + Which still obeys the mind. + So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, + The ill I shun, the good I claim; + I alas! not well alive, + Miss the aim whereto I strive. + Not love, nor beauty's pride, + Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, + If, whilst within thy heart abide + Both death and pity, my unequal skill + Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0156" id="link2H_4_0156"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI + + In Farsistan the violet spreads + Its leaves to the rival sky; + I ask how far is the Tigris flood, + And the vine that grows thereby? + + Except the amber morning wind, + Not one salutes me here; + There is no lover in all Bagdat + To offer the exile cheer. + + I know that thou, O morning wind! + O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, + And thou, heart-warming nightingale! + My father's orchard knowest. + + The merchant hath stuffs of price, + And gems from the sea-washed strand, + And princes offer me grace + To stay in the Syrian land; + + But what is gold <i>for</i>, but for gifts? + And dark, without love, is the day; + And all that I see in Bagdat + Is the Tigris to float me away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0157" id="link2H_4_0157"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM HAFIZ + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I said to heaven that glowed above, + O hide yon sun-filled zone, + Hide all the stars you boast; + For, in the world of love + And estimation true, + The heaped-up harvest of the moon + Is worth one barley-corn at most, + The Pleiads' sheaf but two. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If my darling should depart, + And search the skies for prouder friends, + God forbid my angry heart + In other love should seek amends. + + When the blue horizon's hoop + Me a little pinches here, + Instant to my grave I stoop, + And go find thee in the sphere. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0158" id="link2H_4_0158"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPITAPH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; + For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, + She laid a slab of marble on his head. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +They say, through patience, chalk + Becomes a ruby stone; + Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood + The chalk is crimson grown. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0159" id="link2H_4_0159"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRIENDSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls + Know the worth of Oman's pearls? + Give the gem which dims the moon + To the noblest, or to none. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, + Beauty sits and Music calls; + Where thy form and favor come, + All good creatures have their home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On prince or bride no diamond stone + Half so gracious ever shone, + As the light of enterprise + Beaming from a young man's eyes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0160" id="link2H_4_0160"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each spot where tulips prank their state + Has drunk the life-blood of the great; + The violets yon field which stain + Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art, + Show me the forward way, since thou art guide, + I put no faith in pilot or in chart, + Since they are transient, and thou dost abide. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0161" id="link2H_4_0161"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, + And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, + The appointed, and the unappointed day; + On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, + Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0162" id="link2H_4_0162"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM IBN JEMIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;— + A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; + And the second, borrowed money,—though the smiling lender say + That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0163" id="link2H_4_0163"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FLUTE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM HILALI + + Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, + Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; + Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,— + If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0164" id="link2H_4_0164"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM HAFIZ + + Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, + Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0165" id="link2H_4_0165"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM ENWERI + + Not in their houses stand the stars, + But o'er the pinnacles of thine! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0166" id="link2H_4_0166"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM ENWERI + + From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, + And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0167" id="link2H_4_0167"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical + dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly + bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he + revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, + as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.] + + Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, + Nor head from foot can I discern, + Nor my heart from love of mine, + Nor the wine-cup from the wine. + All my doing, all my leaving, + Reaches not to my perceiving; + Lost in whirling spheres I rove, + And know only that I love. + + I am seeker of the stone, + Living gem of Solomon; + From the shore of souls arrived, + In the sea of sense I dived; + But what is land, or what is wave, + To me who only jewels crave? + Love is the air-fed fire intense, + And my heart the frankincense; + As the rich aloes flames, I glow, + Yet the censer cannot know. + I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; + Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + Ask not me, as Muftis can, + To recite the Alcoran; + Well I love the meaning sweet,— + I tread the book beneath my feet. + + Lo! the God's love blazes higher, + Till all difference expire. + What are Moslems? what are Giaours? + All are Love's, and all are ours. + I embrace the true believers, + But I reck not of deceivers. + Firm to Heaven my bosom clings, + Heedless of inferior things; + Down on earth there, underfoot, + What men chatter know I not. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0168" id="link2H_4_0168"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V — APPENDIX + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0169" id="link2H_4_0169"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Right upward on the road of fame + With sounding steps the poet came; + Born and nourished in miracles, + His feet were shod with golden bells, + Or where he stepped the soil did peal + As if the dust were glass and steel. + The gallant child where'er he came + Threw to each fact a tuneful name. + The things whereon he cast his eyes + Could not the nations rebaptize, + Nor Time's snows hide the names he set, + Nor last posterity forget. + Yet every scroll whereon he wrote + In latent fire his secret thought, + Fell unregarded to the ground, + Unseen by such as stood around. + The pious wind took it away, + The reverent darkness hid the lay. + Methought like water-haunting birds + Divers or dippers were his words, + And idle clowns beside the mere + At the new vision gape and jeer. + But when the noisy scorn was past, + Emerge the wingèd words in haste. + New-bathed, new-trimmed, on healthy wing, + Right to the heaven they steer and sing. + + A Brother of the world, his song + Sounded like a tempest strong + Which tore from oaks their branches broad, + And stars from the ecliptic road. + Times wore he as his clothing-weeds, + He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. + As melts the iceberg in the seas, + As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, + As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, + The solid kingdoms like a dream + Resist in vain his motive strain, + They totter now and float amain. + For the Muse gave special charge + His learning should be deep and large, + And his training should not scant + The deepest lore of wealth or want: + His flesh should feel, his eyes should read + Every maxim of dreadful Need; + In its fulness he should taste + Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; + Full fed, but not intoxicated; + He should be loved; he should be hated; + A blooming child to children dear, + His heart should palpitate with fear. + + And well he loved to quit his home + And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam + To read new landscapes and old skies;— + But oh, to see his solar eyes + Like meteors which chose their way + And rived the dark like a new day! + Not lazy grazing on all they saw, + Each chimney-pot and cottage door, + Farm-gear and village picket-fence, + But, feeding on magnificence, + They bounded to the horizon's edge + And searched with the sun's privilege. + Landward they reached the mountains old + Where pastoral tribes their flocks infold, + Saw rivers run seaward by cities high + And the seas wash the low-hung sky; + Saw the endless rack of the firmament + And the sailing moon where the cloud was rent, + And through man and woman and sea and star + Saw the dance of Nature forward and far, + Through worlds and races and terms and times + Saw musical order and pairing rhymes. + + II + + The gods talk in the breath of the woods, + They talk in the shaken pine, + And fill the long reach of the old seashore + With dialogue divine; + And the poet who overhears + Some random word they say + Is the fated man of men + Whom the ages must obey: + One who having nectar drank + Into blissful orgies sank; + He takes no mark of night or day, + He cannot go, he cannot stay, + He would, yet would not, counsel keep, + But, like a walker in his sleep + With staring eye that seeth none, + Ridiculously up and down + Seeks how he may fitly tell + The heart-o'erlading miracle. + + Not yet, not yet, + Impatient friend,— + A little while attend; + Not yet I sing: but I must wait, + My hand upon the silent string, + Fully until the end. + I see the coming light, + I see the scattered gleams, + Aloft, beneath, on left and right + The stars' own ether beams; + These are but seeds of days, + Not yet a steadfast morn, + An intermittent blaze, + An embryo god unborn. + + How all things sparkle, + The dust is alive, + To the birth they arrive: + I snuff the breath of my morning afar, + I see the pale lustres condense to a star: + The fading colors fix, + The vanishing are seen, + And the world that shall be + Twins the world that has been. + I know the appointed hour, + I greet my office well, + Never faster, never slower + Revolves the fatal wheel! + The Fairest enchants me, + The Mighty commands me, + Saying, 'Stand in thy place; + Up and eastward turn thy face; + As mountains for the morning wait, + Coming early, coming late, + So thou attend the enriching Fate + Which none can stay, and none accelerate. + I am neither faint nor weary, + Fill thy will, O faultless heart! + Here from youth to age I tarry,— + Count it flight of bird or dart. + My heart at the heart of things + Heeds no longer lapse of time, + Rushing ages moult their wings, + Bathing in thy day sublime. + + The sun set, but set not his hope:— + Stars rose, his faith was earlier up: + Fixed on the enormous galaxy, + Deeper and older seemed his eye, + And matched his sufferance sublime + The taciturnity of Time. + + Beside his hut and shading oak, + Thus to himself the poet spoke, + 'I have supped to-night with gods, + I will not go under a wooden roof: + As I walked among the hills + In the love which Nature fills, + The great stars did not shine aloof, + They hurried down from their deep abodes + And hemmed me in their glittering troop. + + 'Divine Inviters! I accept + The courtesy ye have shown and kept + From ancient ages for the bard, + To modulate + With finer fate + A fortune harsh and hard. + With aim like yours + I watch your course, + Who never break your lawful dance + By error or intemperance. + O birds of ether without wings! + O heavenly ships without a sail! + O fire of fire! O best of things! + O mariners who never fail! + Sail swiftly through your amber vault, + An animated law, a presence to exalt.' + + Ah, happy if a sun or star + Could chain the wheel of Fortune's car, + And give to hold an even state, + Neither dejected nor elate, + That haply man upraised might keep + The height of Fancy's far-eyed steep. + In vain: the stars are glowing wheels, + Giddy with motion Nature reels, + Sun, moon, man, undulate and stream, + The mountains flow, the solids seem, + Change acts, reacts; back, forward hurled, + And pause were palsy to the world.— + The morn is come: the starry crowds + Are hid behind the thrice-piled clouds; + The new day lowers, and equal odds + Have changed not less the guest of gods; + Discrowned and timid, thoughtless, worn, + The child of genius sits forlorn: + Between two sleeps a short day's stealth, + 'Mid many ails a brittle health, + A cripple of God, half true, half formed, + And by great sparks Promethean warmed, + Constrained by impotence to adjourn + To infinite time his eager turn, + His lot of action at the urn. + He by false usage pinned about + No breath therein, no passage out, + Cast wishful glances at the stars + And wishful saw the Ocean stream:— + 'Merge me in the brute universe, + Or lift to a diviner dream!' + + Beside him sat enduring love, + Upon him noble eyes did rest, + Which, for the Genius that there strove. + The follies bore that it invest. + They spoke not, for their earnest sense + Outran the craft of eloquence. + + He whom God had thus preferred,— + To whom sweet angels ministered, + Saluted him each morn as brother, + And bragged his virtues to each other,— + Alas! how were they so beguiled, + And they so pure? He, foolish child, + A facile, reckless, wandering will, + Eager for good, not hating ill, + Thanked Nature for each stroke she dealt; + On his tense chords all strokes were felt, + The good, the bad with equal zeal, + He asked, he only asked, to feel. + Timid, self-pleasing, sensitive, + With Gods, with fools, content to live; + Bended to fops who bent to him; + Surface with surfaces did swim. + + 'Sorrow, sorrow!' the angels cried, + 'Is this dear Nature's manly pride? + Call hither thy mortal enemy, + Make him glad thy fall to see! + Yon waterflag, yon sighing osier, + A drop can shake, a breath can fan; + Maidens laugh and weep; Composure + Is the pudency of man,' + + Again by night the poet went + From the lighted halls + Beneath the darkling firmament + To the seashore, to the old seawalls, + Out shone a star beneath the cloud, + The constellation glittered soon,— + You have no lapse; so have ye glowed + But once in your dominion. + And yet, dear stars, I know ye shine + Only by needs and loves of mine; + Light-loving, light-asking life in me + Feeds those eternal lamps I see. + And I to whom your light has spoken, + I, pining to be one of you, + I fall, my faith is broken, + Ye scorn me from your deeps of blue. + Or if perchance, ye orbs of Fate, + Your ne'er averted glance + Beams with a will compassionate + On sons of time and chance, + Then clothe these hands with power + In just proportion, + Nor plant immense designs + Where equal means are none.' + + CHORUS OF SPIRITS + + Means, dear brother, ask them not; + Soul's desire is means enow, + Pure content is angel's lot, + Thine own theatre art thou. + + Gentler far than falls the snow + In the woodwalks still and low + Fell the lesson on his heart + And woke the fear lest angels part. + + POET + + I see your forms with deep content, + I know that ye are excellent, + But will ye stay? + I hear the rustle of wings, + Ye meditate what to say + Ere ye go to quit me for ever and aye. + + SPIRITS + + Brother, we are no phantom band; + Brother, accept this fatal hand. + Aches thine unbelieving heart + With the fear that we must part? + See, all we are rooted here + By one thought to one same sphere; + From thyself thou canst not flee,— + From thyself no more can we. + + POET + + Suns and stars their courses keep, + But not angels of the deep: + Day and night their turn observe, + But the day of day may swerve. + Is there warrant that the waves + Of thought in their mysterious caves + Will heap in me their highest tide, + In me therewith beatified? + Unsure the ebb and flood of thought, + The moon comes back,—the Spirit not. + + SPIRITS + + Brother, sweeter is the Law + Than all the grace Love ever saw; + We are its suppliants. By it, we + Draw the breath of Eternity; + Serve thou it not for daily bread,— + Serve it for pain and fear and need. + Love it, though it hide its light; + By love behold the sun at night. + If the Law should thee forget, + More enamoured serve it yet; + Though it hate thee, suffer long; + Put the Spirit in the wrong; + Brother, no decrepitude + Chills the limbs of Time; + As fleet his feet, his hands as good, + His vision as sublime: + On Nature's wheels there is no rust; + Nor less on man's enchanted dust + Beauty and Force alight. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0170" id="link2H_4_0170"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + There are beggars in Iran and Araby, + SAID was hungrier than all; + Hafiz said he was a fly + That came to every festival. + He came a pilgrim to the Mosque + On trail of camel and caravan, + Knew every temple and kiosk + Out from Mecca to Ispahan; + Northward he went to the snowy hills, + At court he sat in the grave Divan. + His music was the south-wind's sigh, + His lamp, the maiden's downcast eye, + And ever the spell of beauty came + And turned the drowsy world to flame. + By lake and stream and gleaming hall + And modest copse and the forest tall, + Where'er he went, the magic guide + Kept its place by the poet's side. + Said melted the days like cups of pearl, + Served high and low, the lord and the churl, + Loved harebells nodding on a rock, + A cabin hung with curling smoke, + Ring of axe or hum of wheel + Or gleam which use can paint on steel, + And huts and tents; nor loved he less + Stately lords in palaces, + Princely women hard to please, + Fenced by form and ceremony, + Decked by courtly rites and dress + And etiquette of gentilesse. + But when the mate of the snow and wind, + He left each civil scale behind: + Him wood-gods fed with honey wild + And of his memory beguiled. + He loved to watch and wake + When the wing of the south-wind whipt the lake + And the glassy surface in ripples brake + And fled in pretty frowns away + Like the flitting boreal lights, + Rippling roses in northern nights, + Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings + In which the sudden wind-god rings. + In caves and hollow trees he crept + And near the wolf and panther slept. + He came to the green ocean's brim + And saw the wheeling sea-birds skim, + Summer and winter, o'er the wave, + Like creatures of a skiey mould, + Impassible to heat or cold. + He stood before the tumbling main + With joy too tense for sober brain; + He shared the life of the element, + The tie of blood and home was rent: + As if in him the welkin walked, + The winds took flesh, the mountains talked, + And he the bard, a crystal soul + Sphered and concentric with the whole. + + II + + The Dervish whined to Said, + "Thou didst not tarry while I prayed. + Beware the fire that Eblis burned," + But Saadi coldly thus returned, + "Once with manlike love and fear + I gave thee for an hour my ear, + I kept the sun and stars at bay, + And love, for words thy tongue could say. + I cannot sell my heaven again + For all that rattles in thy brain." + + III + + Said Saadi, "When I stood before + Hassan the camel-driver's door, + I scorned the fame of Timour brave; + Timour, to Hassan, was a slave. + In every glance of Hassan's eye + I read great years of victory, + And I, who cower mean and small + In the frequent interval + When wisdom not with me resides, + Worship Toil's wisdom that abides. + I shunned his eyes, that faithful man's, + I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance." + + IV + + The civil world will much forgive + To bards who from its maxims live, + But if, grown bold, the poet dare + Bend his practice to his prayer + And following his mighty heart + Shame the times and live apart,— + <i>Vae solis!</i> I found this, + That of goods I could not miss + If I fell within the line, + Once a member, all was mine, + Houses, banquets, gardens, fountains, + Fortune's delectable mountains; + But if I would walk alone, + Was neither cloak nor crumb my own. + And thus the high Muse treated me, + Directly never greeted me, + But when she spread her dearest spells, + Feigned to speak to some one else. + I was free to overhear, + Or I might at will forbear; + Yet mark me well, that idle word + Thus at random overheard + Was the symphony of spheres, + And proverb of a thousand years, + The light wherewith all planets shone, + The livery all events put on, + It fell in rain, it grew in grain, + It put on flesh in friendly form, + Frowned in my foe and growled in storm, + It spoke in Tullius Cicero, + In Milton and in Angelo: + I travelled and found it at Rome; + Eastward it filled all Heathendom + And it lay on my hearth when I came home. + + V + + Mask thy wisdom with delight, + Toy with the bow, yet hit the white, + As Jelaleddin old and gray; + He seemed to bask, to dream and play + Without remoter hope or fear + Than still to entertain his ear + And pass the burning summer-time + In the palm-grove with a rhyme; + Heedless that each cunning word + Tribes and ages overheard: + Those idle catches told the laws + Holding Nature to her cause. + + God only knew how Saadi dined; + Roses he ate, and drank the wind; + He freelier breathed beside the pine, + In cities he was low and mean; + The mountain waters washed him clean + And by the sea-waves he was strong; + He heard their medicinal song, + Asked no physician but the wave, + No palace but his sea-beat cave. + + Saadi held the Muse in awe, + She was his mistress and his law; + A twelvemonth he could silence hold, + Nor ran to speak till she him told; + He felt the flame, the fanning wings, + Nor offered words till they were things, + Glad when the solid mountain swims + In music and uplifting hymns. + + Charmed from fagot and from steel, + Harvests grew upon his tongue, + Past and future must reveal + All their heart when Saadi sung; + Sun and moon must fall amain + Like sower's seeds into his brain, + There quickened to be born again. + + The free winds told him what they knew, + Discoursed of fortune as they blew; + Omens and signs that filled the air + To him authentic witness bare; + The birds brought auguries on their wings, + And carolled undeceiving things + Him to beckon, him to warn; + Well might then the poet scorn + To learn of scribe or courier + Things writ in vaster character; + And on his mind at dawn of day + Soft shadows of the evening lay. + + * * * + + Pale genius roves alone, + No scout can track his way, + None credits him till he have shown + His diamonds to the day. + + Not his the feaster's wine, + Nor land, nor gold, nor power, + By want and pain God screeneth him + Till his elected hour. + + Go, speed the stars of Thought + On to their shining goals:— + The sower scatters broad his seed, + The wheat thou strew'st be souls. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I grieve that better souls than mine + Docile read my measured line: + High destined youths and holy maids + Hallow these my orchard shades; + Environ me and me baptize + With light that streams from gracious eyes. + I dare not be beloved and known, + I ungrateful, I alone. + + Ever find me dim regards, + Love of ladies, love of bards, + Marked forbearance, compliments, + Tokens of benevolence. + What then, can I love myself? + Fame is profitless as pelf, + A good in Nature not allowed + They love me, as I love a cloud + Sailing falsely in the sphere, + Hated mist if it come near. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For thought, and not praise; + Thought is the wages + For which I sell days, + Will gladly sell ages + And willing grow old + Deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold, + Melting matter into dreams, + Panoramas which I saw + And whatever glows or seems + Into substance, into Law. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Fancy's gift + Can mountains lift; + The Muse can knit + What is past, what is done, + With the web that's just begun; + Making free with time and size, + Dwindles here, there magnifies, + Swells a rain-drop to a tun; + So to repeat + No word or feat + Crowds in a day the sum of ages, + And blushing Love outwits the sages. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Try the might the Muse affords + And the balm of thoughtful words; + Bring music to the desolate; + Hang roses on the stony fate. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But over all his crowning grace, + Wherefor thanks God his daily praise, + Is the purging of his eye + To see the people of the sky: + From blue mount and headland dim + Friendly hands stretch forth to him, + Him they beckon, him advise + Of heavenlier prosperities + And a more excelling grace + And a truer bosom-glow + Than the wine-fed feasters know. + They turn his heart from lovely maids, + And make the darlings of the earth + Swainish, coarse and nothing worth: + Teach him gladly to postpone + Pleasures to another stage + Beyond the scope of human age, + Freely as task at eve undone + Waits unblamed to-morrow's sun. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +By thoughts I lead + Bards to say what nations need; + What imports, what irks and what behooves, + Framed afar as Fates and Loves. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, + So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I framed his tongue to music, + I armed his hand with skill, + I moulded his face to beauty + And his heart the throne of Will. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For every God + Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For art, for music over-thrilled, + The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; + Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That book is good + Which puts me in a working mood. + Unless to Thought is added Will, + Apollo is an imbecile. + What parts, what gems, what colors shine,— + Ah, but I miss the grand design. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Like vaulters in a circus round + Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Genius made his cabin wide, + And Love led Gods therein to bide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The atom displaces all atoms beside, + And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem + The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He could condense cerulean ether + Into the very best sole-leather. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, + In mercy, on one little head. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have no brothers and no peers, + And the dearest interferes: + When I would spend a lonely day, + Sun and moon are in my way. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The brook sings on, but sings in vain + Wanting the echo in my brain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He planted where the deluge ploughed. + His hired hands were wind and cloud; + His eyes detect the Gods concealed + In the hummock of the field. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For what need I of book or priest, + Or sibyl from the mummied East, + When every star is Bethlehem star? + I count as many as there are + Cinquefoils or violets in the grass, + So many saints and saviors, + So many high behaviors + Salute the bard who is alive + And only sees what he doth give. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Coin the day-dawn into lines + In which its proper splendor shines; + Coin the moonlight into verse + Which all its marvel shall rehearse, + Chasing with words fast-flowing things; nor try + To plant thy shrivelled pedantry + On the shoulders of the sky. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! + A better voice peals through my song. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, + A bolder foot is still rewarded. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +His instant thought a poet spoke, + And filled the age his fame; + An inch of ground the lightning strook + But lit the sky with flame. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; + And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Asmodean feat is mine, + To spin my sand-heap into twine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue, + But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0171" id="link2H_4_0171"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0172" id="link2H_4_0172"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The patient Pan, + Drunken with nectar, + Sleeps or feigns slumber, + Drowsily humming + Music to the march of time. + This poor tooting, creaking cricket, + Pan, half asleep, rolling over + His great body in the grass, + Tooting, creaking, + Feigns to sleep, sleeping never; + 'T is his manner, + Well he knows his own affair, + Piling mountain chains of phlegm + On the nervous brain of man, + As he holds down central fires + Under Alps and Andes cold; + Haply else we could not live, + Life would be too wild an ode. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Come search the wood for flowers,— + Wild tea and wild pea, + Grapevine and succory, + Coreopsis + And liatris, + Flaunting in their bowers; + Grass with green flag half-mast high, + Succory to match the sky, + Columbine with horn of honey, + Scented fern and agrimony; + Forest full of essences + Fit for fairy presences, + Peppermint and sassafras, + Sweet fern, mint and vernal grass, + Panax, black birch, sugar maple, + Sweet and scent for Dian's table, + Elder-blow, sarsaparilla, + Wild rose, lily, dry vanilla,— + Spices in the plants that run + To bring their first fruits to the sun. + Earliest heats that follow frore + Nervèd leaf of hellebore, + Sweet willow, checkerberry red, + With its savory leaf for bread. + Silver birch and black + With the selfsame spice + Found in polygala root and rind, + Sassafras, fern, benzöine, + Mouse-ear, cowslip, wintergreen, + Which by aroma may compel + The frost to spare, what scents so well. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Where the fungus broad and red + Lifts its head, + Like poisoned loaf of elfin bread, + Where the aster grew + With the social goldenrod, + In a chapel, which the dew + Made beautiful for God:— + O what would Nature say? + She spared no speech to-day: + The fungus and the bulrush spoke, + Answered the pine-tree and the oak, + The wizard South blew down the glen, + Filled the straits and filled the wide, + Each maple leaf turned up its silver side. + All things shine in his smoky ray, + And all we see are pictures high; + Many a high hillside, + While oaks of pride + Climb to their tops, + And boys run out upon their leafy ropes. + The maple street + In the houseless wood, + Voices followed after, + Every shrub and grape leaf + Rang with fairy laughter. + I have heard them fall + Like the strain of all + King Oberon's minstrelsy. + Would hear the everlasting + And know the only strong? + You must worship fasting, + You must listen long. + Words of the air + Which birds of the air + Carry aloft, below, around, + To the isles of the deep, + To the snow-capped steep, + To the thundercloud. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Nature, true and like in every place, + Will hint her secret in a garden patch, + Or in lone corners of a doleful heath, + As in the Andes watched by fleets at sea, + Or the sky-piercing horns of Himmaleh; + And, when I would recall the scenes I dreamed + On Adirondac steeps, I know + Small need have I of Turner or Daguerre, + Assured to find the token once again + In silver lakes that unexhausted gleam + And peaceful woods beside my cottage door. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What all the books of ages paint, I have. + What prayers and dreams of youthful genius feign, + I daily dwell in, and am not so blind + But I can see the elastic tent of day + Belike has wider hospitality + Than my few needs exhaust, and bids me read + The quaint devices on its mornings gay. + Yet Nature will not be in full possessed, + And they who truliest love her, heralds are + And harbingers of a majestic race, + Who, having more absorbed, more largely yield, + And walk on earth as the sun walks in the sphere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But never yet the man was found + Who could the mystery expound, + Though Adam, born when oaks were young, + Endured, the Bible says, as long; + But when at last the patriarch died + The Gordian noose was still untied. + He left, though goodly centuries old, + Meek Nature's secret still untold. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Atom from atom yawns as far + As moon from earth, or star from star. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + To deck the morning of the year, + Why tinge thy lustres jubilant + With forecast or with fear? + + Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, + Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin + To use my land to put his rainbows in. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, + And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What central flowing forces, say, + Make up thy splendor, matchless day? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more; + In her hundred-gated Thebes every chamber was a door, + A door to something grander,—loftier walls, and vaster floor. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She paints with white and red the moors + To draw the nations out of doors. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A score of airy miles will smooth + Rough Monadnoc to a gem. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0173" id="link2H_4_0173"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EARTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar + Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0174" id="link2H_4_0174"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HEAVENS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wisp and meteor nightly falling, + But the Stars of God remain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0175" id="link2H_4_0175"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSITION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See yonder leafless trees against the sky, + How they diffuse themselves into the air, + And, ever subdividing, separate + Limbs into branches, branches into twigs. + As if they loved the element, and hasted + To dissipate their being into it. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Parks and ponds are good by day; + I do not delight + In black acres of the night, + Nor my unseasoned step disturbs + The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In Walden wood the chickadee + Runs round the pine and maple tree + Intent on insect slaughter: + O tufted entomologist! + Devour as many as you list, + Then drink in Walden water. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The low December vault in June be lifted high, + And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0176" id="link2H_4_0176"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GARDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Many things the garden shows, + And pleased I stray + From tree to tree + Watching the white pear-bloom, + Bee-infested quince or plum. + I could walk days, years, away + Till the slow ripening, secular tree + Had reached its fruiting-time, + Nor think it long. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Solar insect on the wing + In the garden murmuring, + Soothing with thy summer horn + Swains by winter pinched and worn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0177" id="link2H_4_0177"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIRDS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Darlings of children and of bard, + Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, + All of worth and beauty set + Gems in Nature's cabinet; + These the fables she esteems + Reality most like to dreams. + Welcome back, you little nations, + Far-travelled in the south plantations; + Bring your music and rhythmic flight, + Your colors for our eyes' delight: + Freely nestle in our roof, + Weave your chamber weatherproof; + And your enchanting manners bring + And your autumnal gathering. + Exchange in conclave general + Greetings kind to each and all, + Conscious each of duty done + And unstainèd as the sun. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0178" id="link2H_4_0178"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WATER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The water understands + Civilization well; + It wets my foot, but prettily + It chills my life, but wittily, + It is not disconcerted, + It is not broken-hearted: + Well used, it decketh joy, + Adorneth, doubleth joy: + Ill used, it will destroy, + In perfect time and measure + With a face of golden pleasure + Elegantly destroy. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0179" id="link2H_4_0179"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NAHANT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All day the waves assailed the rock, + I heard no church-bell chime, + The sea-beat scorns the minster clock + And breaks the glass of Time. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0180" id="link2H_4_0180"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUNRISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Would you know what joy is hid + In our green Musketaquid, + And for travelled eyes what charms + Draw us to these meadow farms, + Come and I will show you all + Makes each day a festival. + Stand upon this pasture hill, + Face the eastern star until + The slow eye of heaven shall show + The world above, the world below. + + Behold the miracle! + Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad + And stood beneath the firmament, + A watchman in a dark gray tent, + Waiting till God create the earth,— + Behold the new majestic birth! + The mottled clouds, like scraps of wool, + Steeped in the light are beautiful. + What majestic stillness broods + Over these colored solitudes. + Sleeps the vast East in pleasèd peace, + Up the far mountain walls the streams increase + Inundating the heaven + With spouting streams and waves of light + Which round the floating isles unite:— + See the world below + Baptized with the pure element, + A clear and glorious firmament + Touched with life by every beam. + I share the good with every flower, + I drink the nectar of the hour:— + This is not the ancient earth + Whereof old chronicles relate + The tragic tales of crime and fate; + But rather, like its beads of dew + And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, + An exhalation of the time. + + * * * +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0181" id="link2H_4_0181"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NIGHT IN JUNE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I left my dreary page and sallied forth, + Received the fair inscriptions of the night; + The moon was making amber of the world, + Glittered with silver every cottage pane, + The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom. + The meadows broad + From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers + Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies + Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court + In fairy groves of herds-grass. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He lives not who can refuse me; + All my force saith, Come and use me: + A gleam of sun, a summer rain, + And all the zone is green again. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, + Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, + As if on such stern forms and haunts + A wintry storm more fitly fell. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + And split to flakes the crystal ledges. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0182" id="link2H_4_0182"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAIA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Illusion works impenetrable, + Weaving webs innumerable, + Her gay pictures never fail, + Crowds each on other, veil on veil, + Charmer who will be believed + By man who thirsts to be deceived. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Illusions like the tints of pearl, + Or changing colors of the sky, + Or ribbons of a dancing girl + That mend her beauty to the eye. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth + And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon + To share the sunshine that so spicy is. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, + Gropes for columns strong as he; + When his ringlets grew and curled, + Groped for axle of the world. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But Nature whistled with all her winds, + Did as she pleased and went her way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0183" id="link2H_4_0183"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIFE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A train of gay and clouded days + Dappled with joy and grief and praise, + Beauty to fire us, saints to save, + Escort us to a little grave. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, + For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, + So guilt not traverses his tender will. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Around the man who seeks a noble end, + Not angels but divinities attend. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, + The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +This shining moment is an edifice + Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Roomy Eternity + Casts her schemes rarely, + And an aeon allows + For each quality and part + Of the multitudinous + And many-chambered heart. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The beggar begs by God's command, + And gifts awake when givers sleep, + Swords cannot cut the giving hand + Nor stab the love that orphans keep. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come + Lemurs and Lars. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Such another peerless queen + Only could her mirror show. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Easy to match what others do, + Perform the feat as well as they; + Hard to out-do the brave, the true, + And find a loftier way: + The school decays, the learning spoils + Because of the sons of wine; + How snatch the stripling from their toils?— + Yet can one ray of truth divine + The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Of all wit's uses the main one + Is to live well with who has none. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The tongue is prone to lose the way, + Not so the pen, for in a letter + We have not better things to say, + But surely say them better. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She walked in flowers around my field + As June herself around the sphere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Friends to me are frozen wine; + I wait the sun on them should shine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +You shall not love me for what daily spends; + You shall not know me in the noisy street, + Where I, as others, follow petty ends; + Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; + Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean. + But love me then and only, when you know + Me for the channel of the rivers of God + From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To and fro the Genius flies, + A light which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head + And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. + Of her faults I take no note, + Fault and folly are not mine; + Comes the Genius,—all's forgot, + Replunged again into that upper sphere + He scatters wide and wild its lustres here. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Love + Asks nought his brother cannot give; + Asks nothing, but does all receive. + Love calls not to his aid events; + He to his wants can well suffice: + Asks not of others soft consents, + Nor kind occasion without eyes; + Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, + Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,— + Where he goes, goes before him Fate; + Whom he uniteth, God installs; + Instant and perfect his access + To the dear object of his thought, + Though foes and land and seas between + Himself and his love intervene. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The brave Empedocles, defying fools, + Pronounced the word that mortals hate to hear— + "I am divine, I am not mortal made; + I am superior to my human weeds." + Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; + Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; + That human part may be described and taught, + The other portion language cannot speak. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Tell men what they knew before; + Paint the prospect from their door. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Him strong Genius urged to roam, + Stronger Custom brought him home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That each should in his house abide. + Therefore was the world so wide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Thou shalt make thy house + The temple of a nation's vows. + Spirits of a higher strain + Who sought thee once shall seek again. + I detected many a god + Forth already on the road, + Ancestors of beauty come + In thy breast to make a home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The archangel Hope + Looks to the azure cope, + Waits through dark ages for the morn, + Defeated day by day, but unto victory born. + + As the drop feeds its fated flower, + As finds its Alp the snowy shower, + Child of the omnific Need, + Hurled into life to do a deed, + Man drinks the water, drinks the light. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, + To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; + I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken + Shall his own sorrow seem impertinent, + A thing that takes no more root in the world + Than doth the traveller's shadow on the rock. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But if thou do thy best, + Without remission, without rest, + And invite the sunbeam, + And abhor to feign or seem + Even to those who thee should love + And thy behavior approve; + If thou go in thine own likeness, + Be it health, or be it sickness; + If thou go as thy father's son, + If thou wear no mask or lie, + Dealing purely and nakedly,— + + * * * +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ascending thorough just degrees + To a consummate holiness, + As angel blind to trespass done, + And bleaching all souls like the sun. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +From the stores of eldest matter, + The deep-eyed flame, obedient water, + Transparent air, all-feeding earth, + He took the flower of all their worth, + And, best with best in sweet consent, + Combined a new temperament. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0184" id="link2H_4_0184"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + REX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bard and mystic held me for their own, + I filled the dream of sad, poetic maids, + I took the friendly noble by the hand, + I was the trustee of the hand-cart man, + The brother of the fisher, porter, swain, + And these from the crowd's edge well pleased beheld + The service done to me as done to them. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +With the key of the secret he marches faster, + From strength to strength, and for night brings day; + While classes or tribes, too weak to master + The flowing conditions of life, give way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0185" id="link2H_4_0185"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUUM CUIQUE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? + Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If curses be the wage of love, + Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, + Not to be named: + It is clear + Why the gods will not appear; + They are ashamed. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, + And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, + Sit still and Truth is near: + Suddenly it will uplift + Your eyelids to the sphere: + Wait a little, you shall see + The portraiture of things to be. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The rules to men made evident + By Him who built the day, + The columns of the firmament + Not firmer based than they. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! + Time hath his work to do and we have ours. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0186" id="link2H_4_0186"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In many forms we try + To utter God's infinity, + But the boundless hath no form, + And the Universal Friend + Doth as far transcend + An angel as a worm. + + The great Idea baffles wit, + Language falters under it, + It leaves the learned in the lurch; + Nor art, nor power, nor toil can find + The measure of the eternal Mind, + Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0187" id="link2H_4_0187"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GRACE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How much, preventing God, how much I owe + To the defences thou hast round me set; + Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,— + These scorned bondmen were my parapet. + I dare not peep over this parapet + To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, + The depths of sin to which I had descended, + Had not these me against myself defended. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0188" id="link2H_4_0188"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Power that by obedience grows, + Knowledge which its source not knows, + Wave which severs whom it bears + From the things which he compares, + Adding wings through things to range, + To his own blood harsh and strange. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0189" id="link2H_4_0189"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O what are heroes, prophets, men, + But pipes through which the breath of Pan doth blow + A momentary music. Being's tide + Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms + Live, robed with beauty, painted by the sun; + Their dust, pervaded by the nerves of God, + Throbs with an overmastering energy + Knowing and doing. Ebbs the tide, they lie + White hollow shells upon the desert shore, + But not the less the eternal wave rolls on + To animate new millions, and exhale + Races and planets, its enchanted foam. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0190" id="link2H_4_0190"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONADNOC FROM AFAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dark flower of Cheshire garden, + Red evening duly dyes + Thy sombre head with rosy hues + To fix far-gazing eyes. + Well the Planter knew how strongly + Works thy form on human thought; + I muse what secret purpose had he + To draw all fancies to this spot. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0191" id="link2H_4_0191"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEPTEMBER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the turbulent beauty + Of a gusty Autumn day, + Poet on a sunny headland + Sighed his soul away. + + Farms the sunny landscape dappled, + Swandown clouds dappled the farms, + Cattle lowed in mellow distance + Where far oaks outstretched their arms. + + Sudden gusts came full of meaning, + All too much to him they said, + Oh, south winds have long memories, + Of that be none afraid. + + I cannot tell rude listeners + Half the tell-tale South-wind said,— + 'T would bring the blushes of yon maples + To a man and to a maid. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0192" id="link2H_4_0192"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EROS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They put their finger on their lip, + The Powers above: + The seas their islands clip, + The moons in ocean dip, + They love, but name not love. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0193" id="link2H_4_0193"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OCTOBER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + October woods wherein + The boy's dream comes to pass, + And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, + And crowns him with a more than royal crown, + And unimagined splendor waits his steps. + The gazing urchin walks through tents of gold, + Through crimson chambers, porphyry and pearl, + Pavilion on pavilion, garlanded, + Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, + Color and sound, music to eye and ear, + Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0194" id="link2H_4_0194"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PETER'S FIELD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, + What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn?] + + That field by spirits bad and good, + By Hell and Heaven is haunted, + And every rood in the hemlock wood + I know is ground enchanted. + + [In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts: + I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts.] + + For in those lonely grounds the sun + Shines not as on the town, + In nearer arcs his journeys run, + And nearer stoops the moon. + + There in a moment I have seen + The buried Past arise; + The fields of Thessaly grew green, + Old gods forsook the skies. + + I cannot publish in my rhyme + What pranks the greenwood played; + It was the Carnival of time, + And Ages went or stayed. + + To me that spectral nook appeared + The mustering Day of Doom, + And round me swarmed in shadowy troop + Things past and things to come. + + The darkness haunteth me elsewhere; + There I am full of light; + In every whispering leaf I hear + More sense than sages write. + + Underwoods were full of pleasance, + All to each in kindness bend, + And every flower made obeisance + As a man unto his friend. + + Far seen, the river glides below, + Tossing one sparkle to the eyes: + I catch thy meaning, wizard wave; + The River of my Life replies. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0195" id="link2H_4_0195"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MUSIC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let me go where'er I will, + I hear a sky-born music still: + It sounds from all things old, + It sounds from all things young, + From all that's fair, from all that's foul, + Peals out a cheerful song. + + It is not only in the rose, + It is not only in the bird, + Not only where the rainbow glows, + Nor in the song of woman heard, + But in the darkest, meanest things + There alway, alway something sings. + + 'T is not in the high stars alone, + Nor in the cup of budding flowers, + Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, + Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, + But in the mud and scum of things + There alway, alway something sings. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0196" id="link2H_4_0196"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WALK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Queen rejoices in her peers, + And wary Nature knows her own + By court and city, dale and down, + And like a lover volunteers, + And to her son will treasures more + And more to purpose freely pour + In one wood walk, than learned men + Can find with glass in ten times ten. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0197" id="link2H_4_0197"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COSMOS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, + Or who can date the morning. + The purple flaming of love? + + I saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, + And I can date the morning prime + And purple flame of love. + + Song breathed from all the forest, + The total air was fame; + It seemed the world was all torches + That suddenly caught the flame. + + * * * + + Is there never a retroscope mirror + In the realms and corners of space + That can give us a glimpse of the battle + And the soldiers face to face? + + Sit here on the basalt courses + Where twisted hills betray + The seat of the world-old Forces + Who wrestled here on a day. + + * * * + + When the purple flame shoots up, + And Love ascends his throne, + I cannot hear your songs, O birds, + For the witchery of my own. + + And every human heart + Still keeps that golden day + And rings the bells of jubilee + On its own First of May. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0198" id="link2H_4_0198"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MIRACLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have trod this path a hundred times + With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. + I know each nest and web-worm's tent, + The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, + Maple and oak, the old Divan + Self-planted twice, like the banian. + I know not why I came again + Unless to learn it ten times ten. + To read the sense the woods impart + You must bring the throbbing heart. + Love is aye the counterforce,— + Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, + Newest knowledge, fiery thought, + Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. + Wandering yester morn the brake, + I reached this heath beside the lake, + And oh, the wonder of the power, + The deeper secret of the hour! + Nature, the supplement of man, + His hidden sense interpret can;— + What friend to friend cannot convey + Shall the dumb bird instructed say. + Passing yonder oak, I heard + Sharp accents of my woodland bird; + I watched the singer with delight,— + But mark what changed my joy to fright,— + When that bird sang, I gave the theme; + That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, + A brown wren was the Daniel + That pierced my trance its drift to tell, + Knew my quarrel, how and why, + Published it to lake and sky, + Told every word and syllable + In his flippant chirping babble, + All my wrath and all my shames, + Nay, God is witness, gave the names. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0199" id="link2H_4_0199"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WATERFALL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A patch of meadow upland + Reached by a mile of road, + Soothed by the voice of waters, + With birds and flowers bestowed. + + Hither I come for strength + Which well it can supply, + For Love draws might from terrene force + And potencies of sky. + + The tremulous battery Earth + Responds to the touch of man; + It thrills to the antipodes, + From Boston to Japan. + + The planets' child the planet knows + And to his joy replies; + To the lark's trill unfolds the rose, + Clouds flush their gayest dyes. + + When Ali prayed and loved + Where Syrian waters roll, + Upward the ninth heaven thrilled and moved; + At the tread of the jubilant soul. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0200" id="link2H_4_0200"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WALDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In my garden three ways meet, + Thrice the spot is blest; + Hermit-thrush comes there to build, + Carrier-doves to nest. + + There broad-armed oaks, the copses' maze, + The cold sea-wind detain; + Here sultry Summer overstays + When Autumn chills the plain. + + Self-sown my stately garden grows; + The winds and wind-blown seed, + Cold April rain and colder snows + My hedges plant and feed. + + From mountains far and valleys near + The harvests sown to-day + Thrive in all weathers without fear,— + Wild planters, plant away! + + In cities high the careful crowds + Of woe-worn mortals darkling go, + But in these sunny solitudes + My quiet roses blow. + + Methought the sky looked scornful down + On all was base in man, + And airy tongues did taunt the town, + 'Achieve our peace who can!' + + What need I holier dew + Than Walden's haunted wave, + Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, + Steeped in each forest cave? + + [If Thought unlock her mysteries, + If Friendship on me smile, + I walk in marble galleries, + I talk with kings the while.] + + How drearily in College hall + The Doctor stretched the hours, + But in each pause we heard the call + Of robins out of doors. + + The air is wise, the wind thinks well, + And all through which it blows, + If plants or brain, if egg or shell, + Or bird or biped knows; + + And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed, + I heed how wears the day; + We must not halt while fiercely speed + The spans of life away. + + What boots it here of Thebes or Rome + Or lands of Eastern day? + In forests I am still at home + And there I cannot stray. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0201" id="link2H_4_0201"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ENCHANTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the deep heart of man a poet dwells + Who all the day of life his summer story tells; + Scatters on every eye dust of his spells, + Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells + Wins the believing child with wondrous tales; + Touches a cheek with colors of romance, + And crowds a history into a glance; + Gives beauty to the lake and fountain, + Spies oversea the fires of the mountain; + When thrushes ope their throat, 't is he that sings, + And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings. + The little Shakspeare in the maiden's heart + Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart; + Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed + And gives persuasion to a gentle deed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0202" id="link2H_4_0202"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Six thankful weeks,—and let it be + A meter of prosperity,— + In my coat I bore this book, + And seldom therein could I look, + For I had too much to think, + Heaven and earth to eat and drink. + Is he hapless who can spare + In his plenty things so rare? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0203" id="link2H_4_0203"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RICHES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Have ye seen the caterpillar + Foully warking in his nest? + 'T is the poor man getting siller, + Without cleanness, without rest. + + Have ye seen the butterfly + In braw claithing drest? + 'T is the poor man gotten rich, + In rings and painted vest. + + The poor man crawls in web of rags + And sore bested with woes. + But when he flees on riches' wings, + He laugheth at his foes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0204" id="link2H_4_0204"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHILOSOPHER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Philosophers are lined with eyes within, + And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. + In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; + Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, + He feels it, introverts his learned eye + To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + + His mother died,—the only friend he had,— + Some tears escaped, but his philosophy + Couched like a cat sat watching close behind + And throttled all his passion. Is't not like + That devil-spider that devours her mate + Scarce freed from her embraces? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0205" id="link2H_4_0205"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTELLECT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gravely it broods apart on joy, + And, truth to tell, amused by pain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0206" id="link2H_4_0206"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIMITS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who knows this or that? + Hark in the wall to the rat: + Since the world was, he has gnawed; + Of his wisdom, of his fraud + What dost thou know? + In the wretched little beast + Is life and heart, + Child and parent, + Not without relation + To fruitful field and sun and moon. + What art thou? His wicked eye + Is cruel to thy cruelty. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0207" id="link2H_4_0207"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; + So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0208" id="link2H_4_0208"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (AFTER TALIESSIN) + + The heavy blue chain + Of the boundless main + Didst thou, just man, endure. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have an arrow that will find its mark, + A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0209" id="link2H_4_0209"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI — POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1823-1834 +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0210" id="link2H_4_0210"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BELL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I love thy music, mellow bell, + I love thine iron chime, + To life or death, to heaven or hell, + Which calls the sons of Time. + + Thy voice upon the deep + The home-bound sea-boy hails, + It charms his cares to sleep, + It cheers him as he sails. + + To house of God and heavenly joys + Thy summons called our sires, + And good men thought thy sacred voice + Disarmed the thunder's fires. + + And soon thy music, sad death-bell, + Shall lift its notes once more, + And mix my requiem with the wind + That sweeps my native shore. + + 1823. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0211" id="link2H_4_0211"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THOUGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not poor, but I am proud, + Of one inalienable right, + Above the envy of the crowd,— + Thought's holy light. + + Better it is than gems or gold, + And oh! it cannot die, + But thought will glow when the sun grows cold, + And mix with Deity. + + BOSTON, 1823. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0212" id="link2H_4_0212"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PRAYER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When success exalts thy lot, + God for thy virtue lays a plot: + And all thy life is for thy own, + Then for mankind's instruction shown; + And though thy knees were never bent, + To Heaven thy hourly prayers are sent, + And whether formed for good or ill, + Are registered and answered still. + + 1826 [?]. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I bear in youth the sad infirmities + That use to undo the limb and sense of age; + It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss + Which lit my onward way with bright presage, + And my unserviceable limbs forego. + The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, + On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, + And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. + Yet I think on them in the silent night, + Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, + And the firm soul does the pale train defy + Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. + Please God, I'll wrap me in mine innocence, + And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence. + + CAMBRIDGE, 1827. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly + Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, + God hath a select family of sons + Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone, + Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one + By constant service to, that inward law, + Is weaving the sublime proportions + Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, + The riches of a spotless memory, + The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got + By searching of a clear and loving eye + That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, + And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day + To seal the marriage of these minds with thine, + Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be + The salt of all the elements, world of the world. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0213" id="link2H_4_0213"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO-DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide + The resurrection of departed pride. + Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep, + Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep— + Late in the world,—too late perchance for fame, + Just late enough to reap abundant blame,— + I choose a novel theme, a bold abuse + Of critic charters, an unlaurelled Muse. + + Old mouldy men and books and names and lands + Disgust my reason and defile my hands. + I had as lief respect an ancient shoe, + As love old things <i>for age</i>, and hate the new. + I spurn the Past, my mind disdains its nod, + Nor kneels in homage to so mean a God. + I laugh at those who, while they gape and gaze, + The bald antiquity of China praise. + Youth is (whatever cynic tubs pretend) + The fault that boys and nations soonest mend. + + 1824. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0214" id="link2H_4_0214"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FAME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah Fate, cannot a man + Be wise without a beard? + East, West, from Beer to Dan, + Say, was it never heard + That wisdom might in youth be gotten, + Or wit be ripe before 't was rotten? + + He pays too high a price + For knowledge and for fame + Who sells his sinews to be wise, + His teeth and bones to buy a name, + And crawls through life a paralytic + To earn the praise of bard and critic. + + Were it not better done, + To dine and sleep through forty years; + Be loved by few; be feared by none; + Laugh life away; have wine for tears; + And take the mortal leap undaunted, + Content that all we asked was granted? + + But Fate will not permit + The seed of gods to die, + Nor suffer sense to win from wit + Its guerdon in the sky, + Nor let us hide, whate'er our pleasure, + The world's light underneath a measure. + + Go then, sad youth, and shine; + Go, sacrifice to Fame; + Put youth, joy, health upon the shrine, + And life to fan the flame; + Being for Seeming bravely barter + And die to Fame a happy martyr. + + 1824. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0215" id="link2H_4_0215"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SUMMONS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A sterner errand to the silken troop + Has quenched the uneasy blush that warmed my cheek; + I am commissioned in my day of joy + To leave my woods and streams and the sweet sloth + Of prayer and song that were my dear delight, + To leave the rudeness of my woodland life, + Sweet twilight walks and midnight solitude + And kind acquaintance with the morning stars + And the glad hey-day of my household hours, + The innocent mirth which sweetens daily bread, + Railing in love to those who rail again, + By mind's industry sharpening the love of life— + Books, Muses, Study, fireside, friends and love, + I loved ye with true love, so fare ye well! + + I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by + And the impatient years that trod on it + Taught me new lessons in the lore of life. + I've learned the sum of that sad history + All woman-born do know, that hoped-for days, + Days that come dancing on fraught with delights, + Dash our blown hopes as they limp heavily by. + But I, the bantling of a country Muse, + Abandon all those toys with speed to obey + The King whose meek ambassador I go. + + 1826. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0216" id="link2H_4_0216"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RIVER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And I behold once more + My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, + The same blue wonder that my infant eye + Admired, sage doubting whence the traveller came,— + Whence brought his sunny bubbles ere he washed + The fragrant flag-roots in my father's fields, + And where thereafter in the world he went. + Look, here he is, unaltered, save that now + He hath broke his banks and flooded all the vales + With his redundant waves. + Here is the rock where, yet a simple child, + I caught with bended pin my earliest fish, + Much triumphing,—and these the fields + Over whose flowers I chased the butterfly + A blooming hunter of a fairy fine. + And hark! where overhead the ancient crows + Hold their sour conversation in the sky:— + These are the same, but I am not the same, + But wiser than I was, and wise enough + Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost + Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb; + These trees and stones are audible to me, + These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, + I understand their faery syllables, + And all their sad significance. The wind, + That rustles down the well-known forest road— + It hath a sound more eloquent than speech. + The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind, + All of them utter sounds of 'monishment + And grave parental love. + They are not of our race, they seem to say, + And yet have knowledge of our moral race, + And somewhat of majestic sympathy, + Something of pity for the puny clay, + That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind. + I feel as I were welcome to these trees + After long months of weary wandering, + Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs; + They know me as their son, for side by side, + They were coeval with my ancestors, + Adorned with them my country's primitive times, + And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. + + CONCORD, June, 1827. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0217" id="link2H_4_0217"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD HOPE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The cup of life is not so shallow + That we have drained the best, + That all the wine at once we swallow + And lees make all the rest. + + Maids of as soft a bloom shall marry + As Hymen yet hath blessed, + And fairer forms are in the quarry + Than Phidias released. + + 1827. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0218" id="link2H_4_0218"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LINES TO ELLEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tell me, maiden, dost thou use + Thyself thro' Nature to diffuse? + All the angles of the coast + Were tenanted by thy sweet ghost, + Bore thy colors every flower, + Thine each leaf and berry bore; + All wore thy badges and thy favors + In their scent or in their savors, + Every moth with painted wing, + Every bird in carolling, + The wood-boughs with thy manners waved, + The rocks uphold thy name engraved, + The sod throbbed friendly to my feet, + And the sweet air with thee was sweet. + The saffron cloud that floated warm + Studied thy motion, took thy form, + And in his airy road benign + Recalled thy skill in bold design, + Or seemed to use his privilege + To gaze o'er the horizon's edge, + To search where now thy beauty glowed, + Or made what other purlieus proud. + + 1829. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0219" id="link2H_4_0219"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECURITY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though her eye seek other forms + And a glad delight below, + Yet the love the world that warms + Bids for me her bosom glow. + + She must love me till she find + Another heart as large and true. + Her soul is frank as the ocean wind, + And the world has only two. + + If Nature hold another heart + That knows a purer flame than me, + I too therein could challenge part + And learn of love a new degree. + + 1829. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dull uncertain brain, + But gifted yet to know + That God has cherubim who go + Singing an immortal strain, + Immortal here below. + I know the mighty bards, + I listen when they sing, + And now I know + The secret store + Which these explore + When they with torch of genius pierce + The tenfold clouds that cover + The riches of the universe + From God's adoring lover. + And if to me it is not given + To fetch one ingot thence + Of the unfading gold of Heaven + His merchants may dispense, + Yet well I know the royal mine, + And know the sparkle of its ore, + Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine— + Explored they teach us to explore. + + 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0220" id="link2H_4_0220"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why fear to die + And let thy body lie + Under the flowers of June, + Thy body food + For the ground-worms' brood + And thy grave smiled on by the visiting moon. + + Amid great Nature's halls + Girt in by mountain walls + And washed with waterfalls + It would please me to die, + Where every wind that swept my tomb + Goes loaded with a free perfume + Dealt out with a God's charity. + + I should like to die in sweets, + A hill's leaves for winding-sheets, + And the searching sun to see + That I am laid with decency. + And the commissioned wind to sing + His mighty psalm from fall to spring + And annual tunes commemorate + Of Nature's child the common fate. + + WILLIAMSTOWN, VERMONT, 1 June, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0221" id="link2H_4_0221"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A LETTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear brother, would you know the life, + Please God, that I would lead? + On the first wheels that quit this weary town + Over yon western bridges I would ride + And with a cheerful benison forsake + Each street and spire and roof, incontinent. + Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, + Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm, + Amid the mountain counties, Hants, Franklin, Berks, + Where down the rock ravine a river roars, + Even from a brook, and where old woods + Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground + With their centennial wrecks. + Find me a slope where I can feel the sun + And mark the rising of the early stars. + There will I bring my books,—my household gods, + The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell + In the sweet odor of her memory. + Then in the uncouth solitude unlock + My stock of art, plant dials in the grass, + Hang in the air a bright thermometer + And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun. + + CHARDON ST., BOSTON, 1831. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Day by day returns + The everlasting sun, + Replenishing material urns + With God's unspared donation; + But the day of day, + The orb within the mind, + Creating fair and good alway, + Shines not as once it shined. + + * * * + + Vast the realm of Being is, + In the waste one nook is his; + Whatsoever hap befalls + In his vision's narrow walls + He is here to testify. + + 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0222" id="link2H_4_0222"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is in all the sons of men + A love that in the spirit dwells, + That panteth after things unseen, + And tidings of the future tells. + + And God hath built his altar here + To keep this fire of faith alive, + And sent his priests in holy fear + To speak the truth—for truth to strive. + + And hither come the pensive train + Of rich and poor, of young and old, + Of ardent youth untouched by pain, + Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold. + + They seek a friend to speak the word + Already trembling on their tongue, + To touch with prophet's hand the chord + Which God in human hearts hath strung. + + To speak the plain reproof of sin + That sounded in the soul before, + And bid you let the angels in + That knock at meek contrition's door. + + A friend to lift the curtain up + That hides from man the mortal goal, + And with glad thoughts of faith and hope + Surprise the exulting soul. + + Sole source of light and hope assured, + O touch thy servant's lips with power, + So shall he speak to us the word + Thyself dost give forever more. + + June, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0223" id="link2H_4_0223"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SELF-RELIANCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henceforth, please God, forever I forego + The yoke of men's opinions. I will be + Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God. + I find him in the bottom of my heart, + I hear continually his voice therein. + + * * * + + The little needle always knows the North, + The little bird remembereth his note, + And this wise Seer within me never errs. + I never taught it what it teaches me; + I only follow, when I act aright. + + October 9, 1832. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And when I am entombed in my place, + Be it remembered of a single man, + He never, though he dearly loved his race, + For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship + Of minds that each can stand against the world + By its own meek and incorruptible will? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The days pass over me + And I am still the same; + The aroma of my life is gone + With the flower with which it came. + + 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0224" id="link2H_4_0224"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN IN NAPLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are what we are made; each following day + Is the Creator of our human mould + Not less than was the first; the all-wise God + Gilds a few points in every several life, + And as each flower upon the fresh hillside, + And every colored petal of each flower, + Is sketched and dyed, each with a new design, + Its spot of purple, and its streak of brown, + So each man's life shall have its proper lights, + And a few joys, a few peculiar charms, + For him round in the melancholy hours + And reconcile him to the common days. + Not many men see beauty in the fogs + Of close low pine-woods in a river town; + Yet unto me not morn's magnificence, + Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve, + Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls + Of rich men blazing hospitable light, + Nor wit, nor eloquence,—no, nor even the song + Of any woman that is now alive,— + Hath such a soul, such divine influence, + Such resurrection of the happy past, + As is to me when I behold the morn + Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath + Peep the blue violets out of the black loam, + Pathetic silent poets that sing to me + Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife. + + March, 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0225" id="link2H_4_0225"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN AT ROME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;— + Besides, you need not be alone; the soul + Shall have society of its own rank. + Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, + The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome, + Shall flock to you and tarry by your side, + And comfort you with their high company. + Virtue alone is sweet society, + It keeps the key to all heroic hearts, + And opens you a welcome in them all. + You must be like them if you desire them, + Scorn trifles and embrace a better aim + Than wine or sleep or praise; + Hunt knowledge as the lover wooes a maid, + And ever in the strife of your own thoughts + Obey the nobler impulse; that is Rome: + That shall command a senate to your side; + For there is no might in the universe + That can contend with love. It reigns forever. + Wait then, sad friend, wait in majestic peace + The hour of heaven. Generously trust + Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand + That until now has put his world in fee + To thee. He watches for thee still. His love + Broods over thee, and as God lives in heaven, + However long thou walkest solitary, + The hour of heaven shall come, the man appear. + + 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0226" id="link2H_4_0226"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WEBSTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1831 + + Let Webster's lofty face + Ever on thousands shine, + A beacon set that Freedom's race + Might gather omens from that radiant sign. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0227" id="link2H_4_0227"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1834 + + Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave + For living brows; ill fits them to receive: + And yet, if virtue abrogate the law, + One portrait—fact or fancy—we may draw; + A form which Nature cast in the heroic mould + Of them who rescued liberty of old; + He, when the rising storm of party roared, + Brought his great forehead to the council board, + There, while hot heads perplexed with fears the state, + Calm as the morn the manly patriot sate; + Seemed, when at last his clarion accents broke, + As if the conscience of the country spoke. + Not on its base Monadnoc surer stood, + Than he to common sense and common good: + No mimic; from his breast his counsel drew, + Believed the eloquent was aye the true; + He bridged the gulf from th' alway good and wise + To that within the vision of small eyes. + Self-centred; when he launched the genuine word + It shook or captivated all who heard, + Ran from his mouth to mountains and the sea, + And burned in noble hearts proverb and prophecy. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1854 + + Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? + He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, <i>For Sale</i>. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0228" id="link2H_4_0228"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INDEX OF FIRST LINES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dull uncertain brain + "A new commandment," said the smiling Muse + A patch of meadow upland + A queen rejoices in her peers + A ruddy drop of manly blood + A score of airy miles will smooth + A sterner errand to the silken troop + A subtle chain of countless rings + A train of gay and clouded days + Ah Fate, cannot a man + Ah, not to me those dreams belong! + All day the waves assailed the rock + Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too + Already blushes on thy cheek + And as the light divides the dark + And Ellen, when the graybeard years + And I behold once more + And when I am entombed in my place + Announced by all the trumpets of the sky + Around the man who seeks a noble end + Ascending thorough just degrees + Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' + As sings the pine-tree in the wind + As sunbeams stream through liberal space + As the drop feeds its fated flower + Atom from atom yawns as far + + Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly + Because I was content with these poor fields + Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Blooms the laurel which belongs + Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold + Bring me wine, but wine which never grew + Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint + Burly, dozing humble-bee + But God said + But if thou do thy best + But Nature whistled with all her winds + But never yet the man was found + But over all his crowning grace + By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave + By the rude bridge that arched the flood + By thoughts I lead + + Can rules or tutors educate + Cast the bantling on the rocks + Coin the day dawn into lines + + Dark flower of Cheshire garden + Darlings of children and of bard + Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring + Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days + Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more + Day by day returns + Day! hast thou two faces + Dear brother, would you know the life + Dearest, where thy shadow falls + Deep in the man sits fast his fate + + Each spot where tulips prank their state + Each the herald is who wrote + Easy to match what others do + Ere he was born, the stars of fate + Ever the Poet <i>from</i> the land + Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Every day brings a ship + Every thought is public + + Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well + Farewell, ye lofty spires + Flow, flow the waves hated + For art, for music over-thrilled + For every God + For Fancy's gift + For Genius made his cabin wide + For joy and beauty planted it + For Nature, true and like in every place + For thought, and not praise + For what need I of book or priest + Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread + Freedom all winged expands + Friends to me are frozen wine + From fall to spring, the russet acorn + From high to higher forces + From the stores of eldest matter + From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate + + Gifts of one who loved me + Give all to love + Give me truths + Give to barrows, trays and pans + Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower + Go speed the stars of Thought + Go thou to thy learned task + Gold and iron are good + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home + Grace, Beauty and Caprice + Gravely it broods apart on joy + + Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Have ye seen the caterpillar + He could condense cerulean ether + He lives not who can refuse me + He planted where the deluge ploughed + He took the color of his vest + He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare + He who has no hands + Hear what British Merlin sung + Henceforth, please God, forever I forego + Her passions the shy violet + Her planted eye to-day controls + High was her heart, and yet was well inclined + Him strong Genius urged to roam + His instant thought a poet spoke + His tongue was framed to music + Hold of the Maker, not the Made + How much, preventing God, how much I owe + + I, Alphonso, live and learn + I am not poor but I am proud + I am not wiser for my age + I am the Muse who sung alway + I bear in youth and sad infirmities + I cannot spare water or wine + I do not count the hours I spend + I framed his tongue to music + I grieve that better souls than mine + I have an arrow that will find its mark + I have no brothers and no peers + I have trod this path a hundred times + I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea + I hung my verses in the wind + I left my dreary page and sallied forth + I like a church; I like a cowl + I love thy music, mellow bell + I mourn upon this battle-field + I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide + I reached the middle of the mount + I said to heaven that glowed above + I see all human wits + I serve you not, if you I follow + If bright the sun, he tarries + If curses be the wage of love + If I could put my woods in song + If my darling should depart + If the red slayer think he slays + Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave + Illusions like the tints of pearl + Illusion works impenetrable + In an age of fops and toys + In countless upward-striving waves + In Farsistan the violet spreads + In many forms we try + In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes + In my garden three ways meet + In the chamber, on the stairs + In the deep heart of man a poet dwells + In the suburb, in the town + In the turbulent beauty + In Walden wood the chickadee + It fell in the ancient periods + It is time to be old + + Knows he who tills this lonely field + + Let me go where'er I will + Let Webster's lofty face + Like vaulters in a circus round + Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown + Long I followed happy guides + Love asks nought his brother cannot give + Love on his errand bound to go + Love scatters oil + Low and mournful be the strain + + Man was made of social earth + Many things the garden shows + May be true what I had heard + Mine and yours + Mine are the night and morning + Mortal mixed of middle clay + + Nature centres into balls + Never did sculptor's dream unfold + Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall + No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low + Not in their houses stand the stars + + October woods wherein + O fair and stately maid, whose eyes + O pity that I pause! + O tenderly the haughty day + O well for the fortunate soul + O what are heroes, prophets, men + Of all wit's uses the main one + Of Merlin wise I learned a song + Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship + On a mound an Arab lay + On bravely through the sunshine and the showers + On prince or bride no diamond stone + On two days it steads not to run from thy grave + Once I wished I might rehearse + One musician is sure + Our eyeless bark sails free + Over his head were the maple buds + + Pale genius roves alone + Parks and ponds are good by day + Philosophers are lined with eyes within + Power that by obedience grows + Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + + Quit the hut, frequent the palace + + Right upward on the road of fame + Roomy Eternity + Roving, roving, as it seems + Ruby wine is drunk by knaves + + Samson stark at Dagon's knee + See yonder leafless trees against the sky + Seek not the spirit, if it hide + Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants + Set not thy foot on graves + She is gamesome and good + She paints with white and red the moors + She walked in flowers around my field + Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen + Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift + Six thankful weeks,—and let it be + Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue + Soft and softlier hold me, friends! + Solar insect on the wing + Some of your hurts you have cured + Space is ample, east and west + Spin the ball! I reel, I burn + Such another peerless queen + Sudden gusts came full of meaning + + Tell me, maiden, dost thou use + Tell men what they knew before + Test of the poet is knowledge of love + Thanks to the morning light + That book is good + That each should in his house abide + That you are fair or wise is vain + The April winds are magical + The archangel Hope + The Asmodean feat is mine + The atom displaces all atoms beside + The bard and mystic held me for their own + The beggar begs by God's command + The brave Empedocles, defying fools + The brook sings on, but sings in vain + The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth + The cup of life is not so shallow + The days pass over me + The debt is paid + The gale that wrecked you on the sand + The green grass is bowing + The heavy blue chain + The living Heaven thy prayers respect + The lords of life, the lords of life + The low December vault in June be lifted high + Theme no poet gladly sung + The mountain and the squirrel + The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded + The patient Pan + The prosperous and beautiful + The rhyme of the poet + The rocky nook with hilltops three + The rules to men made evident + The sea is the road of the bold + The sense of the world is short + The solid, solid universe + The South-wind brings + The Sphinx is drowsy + The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin + The sun goes down, and with him takes + The sun set, but set not his hope + The tongue is prone to lose the way + The water understands + The wings of Time are black and white + The word of the Lord by night + The yesterday doth never smile + Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes + There are beggars in Iran and Araby + There is in all the sons of men + There is no great and no small + There is no architect + They brought me rubies from the mine + They put their finger on their lips + They say, through patience, chalk + Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + Think me not unkind and rude + This is he, who, felled by foes + This shining moment is an edifice + Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls + Thou shalt make thy house + Though her eyes seek other forms + Though loath to grieve + Though love repine and reason chafe + Thousand minstrels woke within me + Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down + Thy summer voice, Musketaquit + Thy trivial harp will never please + To and fro the Genius flies + To clothe the fiery thought + To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem + Trees in groves + True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet + Try the might the Muse affords + Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene + Two well-assorted travellers use + + Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art + + Venus, when her son was lost + + Was never form and never face + We are what we are made; each following day + We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends + We love the venerable house + Well and wisely said the Greek + What all the books of ages paint, I have + What care I, so they stand the same + What central flowing forces, say + When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + When I was born + When success exalts thy lot + When the pine tosses its cones + When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port + Who gave thee, O Beauty + Who knows this or that? 375. + Who saw the hid beginnings + Who shall tell what did befall + Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? + Why fear to die + Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year + Why should I keep holiday + Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? + Winters know + Wise and polite,—and if I drew + Wisp and meteor nightly falling + With beams December planets dart + With the key of the secret he marches faster + Would you know what joy is hid + + Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken + You shall not be overbold + You shall not love me for what daily spends + Your picture smiles as first it smiled + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0229" id="link2H_4_0229"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INDEX OF TITLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal + divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the + subdivisions of long poems.] + + A.H. + [Greek: Adakryn nemontai Aiona] + Adirondacs, The + Alcuin, From + Ali Ben Abu Taleb, From + Alphonso of Castile + Amulet, The + Apology, The + April + Art + Artist + Astraea + + Bacchus + Beauty + Bell, The + Berrying + Birds + Blight + Boéce, Étienne de la + Bohemian Hymn, The + Borrowing + Boston + Boston Hymn, read in Music Hall, January 1, 1863 + Botanist + Brahma + + Caritas + Casella + Celestial Love, The + Channing, W.H., Ode inscribed to + Character + Chartist's Complaint, The + Circles + Climacteric + Compensation + Concord Hymn + Concord, Ode Sung in the Town Hall, July 4, 1857 + Cosmos + Culture + Cupido + + Daemonic Love, The + Day's Ration, The + Days + Destiny + Dirge + + Each and All + Earth, The + Earth-Song + ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + Ellen, To + Ellen, Lines to + Enchanter, The + Epitaph + Eros + Eva, To + Excelsior + Exile, The + Experience + + Fable + Fame + Fate + Flute, The + Forbearance + Forerunners + Forester + Fragments on Nature and Life + Fragments on the Poet and the Poetic Gift + Freedom + Friendship + + Garden, The + Garden, My + Gardener + Gifts + Give all to Love + Good-bye + Good Hope + Grace + Guy + + Hafiz + Hafiz, From + Hamatreya + Harp, The + Heavens, The + Heri, Cras, Hodie + Hermione + Heroism + Holidays + Horoscope + House, The + Humble-Bee, The + Hush! + Hymn + Hymn sung at the Second Church, Boston, at the Ordination of + Rev. Chandler Robbins + + Ibn Jemin, From + Illusions + Informing Spirit, The + In Memoriam + Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love + Initial Love, The + Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War + Insight + Intellect + + J.W., To + + Last Farewell, The + Letter, A + Letters + Life + Limits + Lines by Ellen Louise Tucker + Lines to Ellen + Love + Love and Thought + + Maia + Maiden Speech of the Aeolian Harp + Manners + MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + May-Day + Memory + Merlin + Merlin's Song + Merops + Miracle, The + Mithridates + Monadnoc + Monadnoc from afar + Mountain Grave, A + Music + Musketaquid + My Garden + + Nahant + Nature + Nature in Leasts + Nemesis + Night in June + Northman + Nun's Aspiration, The + + October + Ode, inscribed to W.H. Channing + Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857 + Ode to Beauty + Omar Khayyam, From + Orator + + Pan + Park, The + Past, The + Pericles + Peter's Field + Phi Beta Kappa Poem, From the + Philosopher + POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + Poet + Poet, The + Politics + Power + Prayer + Problem, The + Promise + Prudence + + QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + Rex + Rhea, To + Rhodora, The + Riches + River, The + Romany Girl, The + Rubies + + S.H. + Saadi + Sacrifice + Seashore + Security + September + Shah, To the + Shakspeare + Snow-Storm, The + Solution + Song of Nature + Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan + Sonnet of Michel Angelo Buonarotti + Sphinx, The + Spiritual Laws + Summons, The + Sunrise + Sursum Corda + "Suum Cuique" + + Terminus + Test, The + Thine Eyes still Shined + Thought + Threnody + Titmouse, The + To-Day + To Ellen at the South + To Ellen + To Eva + To J.W. + To Rhea + To the Shah + Transition + Translations + Two Rivers + + Una + Unity + Uriel + + Violet, The + Visit, The + Voluntaries + + Waldeinsamkeit + Walden + Walk, The + Water + Waterfall, The + Wealth + Webster + Woodnotes + World-Soul, The + Worship + Written at Rome, 1883 + Written in a Volume of Goethe + Written in Naples, March, 1883 + + Xenophanes +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12843 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3ba884 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12843 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12843) diff --git a/old/12843-8.txt b/old/12843-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7950d6f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12843-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12651 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + Household Edition + +Author: Ralph Waldo Emerson + +Release Date: July 7, 2004 [EBook #12843] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +POEMS + +BY + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + +_HOUSEHOLD EDITION_ + + +1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, +published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:-- + +"This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS and +MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876, Mr. Emerson published a selection +from his Poems, adding six new ones and omitting many[1]. Of those +omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the expressed +wishes of many readers and lovers of them. Also some pieces never +before published are here given in an Appendix; on various grounds. +Some of them appear to have had Mr. Emerson's approval, but to have +been withheld because they were unfinished. These it seemed best not to +suppress, now that they can never receive their completion. Others, +mostly of an early date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of +their personal and private nature. Some of these seem to have an +autobiographic interest sufficient to justify their publication. Others +again, often mere fragments, have been admitted as characteristic, or +as expressing in poetic form thoughts found in the Essays. + + [1] _Selected Poems_: Little Classic Edition. + +"In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole, +preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the +opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of +Time. + +"As was stated in the preface to the first volume of this edition of +Mr. Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the Selected +Poems have not always been followed here, but in some cases preference +has been given to corrections made by him when he was in fuller +strength than at the time of the last revision. + +"A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of 'May-Day,' in the part +representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as +bringing them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + +In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the _Poems_, Mr. Cabot +very considerately took the present editor into counsel (as +representing Mr. Emerson's family), who at that time in turn took +counsel with several persons of taste and mature judgment with regard +especially to the admission of poems hitherto unpublished and of +fragments that seemed interested and pleasing. Mr. Cabot and he were +entirely in accord with regard to the Riverside Edition. In the present +edition, the substance of the Riverside Edition has been preserved, +with hardly an exception, although some poems and fragments have been +added. None of the poems therein printed have been omitted. "The +House," which appeared in the first volume of _Poems_, and "Nemesis," +"Una," "Love and Thought" and "Merlin's Songs," from the _May-Day_ +volume, have been restored. To the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. +Emerson printed as "Elements" in _May-Day_, most of the others have +been added. Following Mr. Emerson's precedent of giving his brother +Edward's "Last Farewell" a place beside the poem in his memory, two +pleasing poems by Ellen Tucker, his first wife, which he published in +the _Dial_, have been placed with his own poems relating to her. The +publication in the last edition of some poems that Mr. Emerson had long +kept by him, but had never quite been ready to print, and of various +fragments on Poetry, Nature and Life, was not done without advice and +careful consideration, and then was felt to be perhaps a rash +experiment. The continued interest which has been shown in the author's +thought and methods and life--for these unfinished pieces contain much +autobiography--has made the present editor feel it justifiable to keep +almost all of these and to add a few. Their order has been slightly +altered. + +A few poems from the verse-books sufficiently complete to have a title +are printed in the Appendix for the first time: "Insight," "September," +"October," "Hymn" and "Riches." + +After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, +and printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of +them taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never +printed before. They are for the most part journals in verse covering +the period of his school-teaching, study for the ministry and exercise +of that office, his sickness, bereavement, travel abroad and return to +the new life. This sad period of probation is illuminated by the +episode of his first love. Not for their poetical merit, except in +flashes, but for the light they throw on the growth of his thought and +character are they included. + +In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued +with regard to his own poems. + + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +March 12, 1904. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +POEMS + +GOOD-BYE +EACH AND ALL +THE PROBLEM +TO RHEA +THE VISIT +URIEL +THE WORLD-SOUL +THE SPHINX +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE +MITHRIDATES +TO J.W. +DESTINY +GUY +HAMATREYA +THE RHODORA +THE HUMBLE-BEE +BERRYING +THE SNOW-STORM +WOODNOTES I +WOODNOTES II +MONADNOC +FABLE +ODE +ASTRAEA +ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE +COMPENSATION +FORBEARANCE +THE PARK +FORERUNNERS +SURSUM CORDA +ODE TO BEAUTY +GIVE ALL TO LOVE +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH +TO ELLEN +TO EVA +LINES +THE VIOLET +THE AMULET +THINE EYES STILL SHINED +EROS +HERMIONE +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE +THE APOLOGY +MERLIN I +MERLIN II +BACCHUS +MEROPS +THE HOUSE +SAADI +HOLIDAYS +XENOPHANES +THE DAY'S RATION +BLIGHT +MUSKETAQUID +DIRGE +THRENODY +CONCORD HYMN + + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + +MAY-DAY +THE ADIRONDACS +BRAHMA +NEMESIS +FATE +FREEDOM +ODE +BOSTON HYMN +VOLUNTARIES +LOVE AND THOUGHT +UNA +BOSTON +LETTERS +RUBIES +MERLIN'S SONG +THE TEST +SOLUTION +HYMN +NATURE I +NATURE II +THE ROMANY GIRL +DAYS +MY GARDEN +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT +THE TITMOUSE +THE HARP +SEASHORE +SONG OF NATURE +TWO RIVERS +WALDEINSAMKEIT +TERMINUS +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION +APRIL +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP +CUPIDO +THE PAST +THE LAST FAREWELL +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + +EXPERIENCE +COMPENSATION +POLITICS +HEROISM +CHARACTER +CULTURE +FRIENDSHIP +SPIRITUAL LAWS +BEAUTY +MANNERS +ART +UNITY +WORSHIP +PRUDENCE +NATURE +THE INFORMING SPIRIT +CIRCLES +INTELLECT +GIFTS +PROMISE +CARITAS +POWER +WEALTH +ILLUSIONS + + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +QUATRAINS +TRANSLATIONS + + +APPENDIX + +THE POET +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + NATURE + LIFE +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN +GRACE +INSIGHT +PAN +MONADNOC FROM AFAR +SEPTEMBER +EROS +OCTOBER +PETER'S FIELD +MUSIC +THE WALK +COSMOS +THE MIRACLE +THE WATERFALL +WALDEN +THE ENCHANTER +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE +RICHES +PHILOSOPHER +INTELLECT +LIMITS +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR +THE EXILE + + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +THE BELL +THOUGHT +PRAYER +TO-DAY +FAME +THE SUMMONS +THE RIVER +GOOD HOPE +LINES TO ELLEN +SECURITY +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE +A LETTER +HYMN +SELF-RELIANCE +WRITTEN IN NAPLES +WRITTEN AT ROME +WEBSTER + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + * * * * * + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +The Emersons first appeared in the north of England, but Thomas, who +landed in Massachusetts in 1638, came from Hertfordshire. He built soon +after a house, sometimes railed the Saint's Rest, which still stands in +Ipswich on the slope of Heart-break Hill, close by Labour-in-vain Creek. +Ralph Waldo Emerson was the sixth in descent from him. He was born in +Boston, in Summer Street, May 25, 1803. He was the third son of William +Emerson, the minister of the First Church in Boston, whose father, +William Emerson, had been the patriotic minister of Concord at the +outbreak of the Revolution, and died a chaplain in the army. Ruth +Haskins, the mother of Ralph Waldo Emerson, was left a widow in 1811, +with a family of five little boys. The taste of these boys was +scholarly, and four of them went through the Latin School to Harvard +College, and graduated there. Their mother was a person of great +sweetness, dignity, and piety, bringing up her sons wisely and well in +very straitened circumstances, and loved by them. Her husband's +stepfather, Rev. Dr. Ripley of Concord, helped her, and constantly +invited the boys to the Old Manse, so that the woods and fields along +the Concord River were first a playground and then the background of the +dreams of their awakening imaginations. + +Born in the city, Emerson's young mind first found delight in poems and +classic prose, to which his instincts led him as naturally as another +boy's would to go fishing, but his vacations in the country supplemented +these by giving him great and increasing love of nature. In his early +poems classic imagery is woven into pictures of New England woodlands. +Even as a little boy he had the habit of attempting flights of verse, +stimulated by Milton, Pope, or Scott, and he and his mates took pleasure +in declaiming to each other in barns and attics. He was so full of +thoughts and fancies that he sought the pen instinctively, to jot them +down. + +At college Emerson did not shine as a scholar, though he won prizes for +essays and declamations, being especially unfitted for mathematical +studies, and enjoying the classics rather in a literary than grammatical +way. And yet it is doubtful whether any man in his class used his time +to better purpose with reference to his after life, for young Emerson's +instinct led him to wide reading of works, outside the curriculum, that +spoke directly to him. He had already formed the habit of writing in a +journal, not the facts but the thoughts and inspirations of the day; +often, also, good stories or poetical quotations, and scraps of his own +verse. + +On graduation from Harvard in the class of 1821, following the +traditions of his family, Emerson resolved to study to be a minister, +and meantime helped his older brother William in the support of the +family by teaching in a school for young ladies in Boston, that the +former had successfully established. The principal was twenty-one and +the assistant nineteen years of age. For school-teaching on the usual +lines Emerson was not fitted, and his youth and shyness prevented him +from imparting his best gifts to his scholars. Years later, when, in his +age, his old scholars assembled to greet him, he regretted that no hint +had been brought into the school of what at that very time "I was +writing every night in my chamber, my first thoughts on morals and the +beautiful laws of compensation, and of individual genius, which to +observe and illustrate have given sweetness to many years of my life." +Yet many scholars remembered his presence and teaching with pleasure and +gratitude, not only in Boston, but in Chelmsford and Roxbury, for while +his younger brothers were in college it was necessary that he should +help. In these years, as through all his youth, he was loved, spurred on +in his intellectual life, and keenly criticised by his aunt, Mary Moody +Emerson, an eager and wide reader, inspired by religious zeal, +high-minded, but eccentric. + +The health of the young teacher suffered from too ascetic a life, and +unmistakable danger-signals began to appear, fortunately heeded in time, +but disappointment and delay resulted, borne, however, with sense and +courage. His course at the Divinity School in Cambridge was much broken; +nevertheless, in October, 1826, he was "approbated to preach" by the +Middlesex Association of Ministers. A winter at the North at this time +threatened to prove fatal, so he was sent South by his helpful kinsman, +Rev. Samuel Ripley, and passed the winter in Florida with benefit, +working northward in the spring, preaching in the cities, and resumed +his studies at Cambridge. + +In 1829, Emerson was called by the Second or Old North Church in Boston +to become the associate pastor with Rev. Henry Ware, and soon after, +because of his senior's delicate health, was called on to assume the +full duty. Theological dogmas, such as the Unitarian Church of +Channing's day accepted, did not appeal to Emerson, nor did the +supernatural in religion in its ordinary acceptation interest him. The +omnipresence of spirit, the dignity of man, the daily miracle of the +universe, were what he taught, and while the older members of the +congregation may have been disquieted that he did not dwell on revealed +religion, his words reached the young people, stirred thought, and +awakened aspiration. At this time he lived with his mother and his young +wife (Ellen Tucker) in Chardon Street. For three years he ministered to +his people in Boston. Then having felt the shock of being obliged to +conform to church usage, as stated prayer when the spirit did not move, +and especially the administration of the Communion, he honestly laid his +troubles before his people, and proposed to them some modification of +this rite. While they considered his proposition, Emerson went into the +White Mountains to weigh his conflicting duties to his church and +conscience. He came down, bravely to meet the refusal of the church to +change the rite, and in a sermon preached in September, 1832, explained +his objections to it, and, because he could not honestly administer it, +resigned. + +He parted from his people in all kindness, but the wrench was felt. His +wife had recently died, he was ill himself, his life seemed to others +broken up. But meantime voices from far away had reached him. He sailed +for Europe, landed in Italy, saw cities, and art, and men, but would not +stay long. Of the dead, Michael Angelo appealed chiefly to him there; +Landor among the living. He soon passed northward, making little stay in +Paris, but sought out Carlyle, then hardly recognized, and living in the +lonely hills of the Scottish Border. There began a friendship which had +great influence on the lives of both men, and lasted through life. He +also visited Wordsworth. But the new life before him called him home. + +He landed at Boston within the year in good health and hope, and joined +his mother and youngest brother Charles in Newton. Frequent invitations +to preach still came, and were accepted, and he even was sounded as to +succeeding Dr. Dewey in the church at New Bedford; but, as he stipulated +for freedom from ceremonial, this came to nothing. + +In the autumn of 1834 he moved to Concord, living with his kinsman, Dr. +Ripley, at the Manse, but soon bought house and land on the Boston Road, +on the edge of the village towards Walden woods. Thither, in the autumn, +he brought his wife. Miss Lidian Jackson, of Plymouth, and this was +their home during the rest of their lives. + +The new life to which he had been called opened pleasantly and increased +in happiness and opportunity, except for the sadness of bereavements, +for, in the first few years, his brilliant brothers Edward and Charles +died, and soon afterward Waldo, his firstborn son, and later his mother. +Emerson had left traditional religion, the city, the Old World, behind, +and now went to Nature as his teacher, his inspiration. His first book, +"Nature," which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here, +and published in 1836. His practice during all his life in Concord was +to go alone to the woods almost daily, sometimes to wait there for +hours, and, when thus attuned, to receive the message to which he was to +give voice. Though it might be colored by him in transmission, he held +that the light was universal. + + "Ever the words of the Gods resound, + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear." + +But he resorted, also, to the books of those who had handed down the +oracles truly, and was quick to find the message destined for him. Men, +too, he studied eagerly, the humblest and the highest, regretting always +that the brand of the scholar on him often silenced the men of shop and +office where he came. He was everywhere a learner, expecting light from +the youngest and least educated visitor. The thoughts combined with the +flower of his reading were gradually grouped into lectures, and his main +occupation through life was reading these to who would hear, at first in +courses in Boston, but later all over the country, for the Lyceum sprang +up in New England in these years in every town, and spread westward to +the new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. His winters were spent +in these rough, but to him interesting journeys, for he loved to watch +the growth of the Republic in which he had faith, and his summers were +spent in study and writing. These lectures were later severely pruned +and revised, and the best of them gathered into seven volumes of essays +under different names between 1841 and 1876. The courses in Boston, +which at first were given in the Masonic Temple, were always well +attended by earnest and thoughtful people. The young, whether in years +or in spirit, were always and to the end his audience of the spoken or +written word. The freedom of the Lyceum platform pleased Emerson. He +found that people would hear on Wednesday with approval and +unsuspectingly doctrines from which on Sunday they felt officially +obliged to dissent. + +Mr. Lowell, in his essays, has spoken of these early lectures and what +they were worth to him and others suffering from the generous discontent +of youth with things as they were. Emerson used to say, "My strength and +my doom is to be solitary;" but to a retired scholar a wholesome offset +to this was the travelling and lecturing in cities and in raw frontier +towns, bringing him into touch with the people, and this he knew and +valued. + +In 1837 Emerson gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration in Cambridge, The +American Scholar, which increased his growing reputation, but the +following year his Address to the Senior Class at the Divinity School +brought out, even from the friendly Unitarians, severe strictures and +warnings against its dangerous doctrines. Of this heresy Emerson said: +"I deny personality to God because it is too little, not too much." He +really strove to elevate the idea of God. Yet those who were pained or +shocked by his teachings respected Emerson. His lectures were still in +demand; he was often asked to speak by literary societies at orthodox +colleges. He preached regularly at East Lexington until 1838, but +thereafter withdrew from the ministerial office. At this time the +progressive and spiritually minded young people used to meet for +discussion and help in Boston, among them George Ripley, Cyrus Bartol, +James Freeman Clarke, Alcott, Dr. Hedge, Margaret Fuller, and Elizabeth +Peabody. Perhaps from this gathering of friends, which Emerson attended, +came what is called the Transcendental Movement, two results of which +were the Brook Farm Community and the Dial magazine, in which last +Emerson took great interest, and was for the time an editor. Many of +these friends were frequent visitors in Concord. Alcott moved thither +after the breaking up of his school. Hawthorne also came to dwell there. +Henry Thoreau, a Concord youth, greatly interested Emerson; indeed, +became for a year or two a valued inmate of his home, and helped and +instructed him in the labors of the garden and little farm, which +gradually grew to ten acres, the chief interest of which for the owner +was his trees, which he loved and tended. Emerson helped introduce his +countrymen to the teachings of Carlyle, and edited his works here, where +they found more readers than at home. + +In 1847 Emerson was invited to read lectures in England, and remained +abroad a year, visiting France also in her troublous times. English +Traits was a result. Just before this journey he had collected and +published his poems. A later volume, called May Day, followed in 1867. +He had written verses from childhood, and to the purified expression of +poetry he, through life, eagerly aspired. He said, "I like my poems +best because it is not I who write them." In 1866 the degree of Doctor +of Laws was conferred on him by Harvard University, and he was chosen an +Overseer. In 1867 he again gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration, and in 1870 +and 1871 gave courses in Philosophy in the University Lectures at +Cambridge. + +Emerson was not merely a man of letters. He recognized and did the +private and public duties of the hour. He exercised a wide hospitality +to souls as well as bodies. Eager youths came to him for rules, and went +away with light. Reformers, wise and unwise, came to him, and were +kindly received. They were often disappointed that they could not +harness him to their partial and transient scheme. He said, My reforms +include theirs: I must go my way; help people by my strength, not by my +weakness. But if a storm threatened, he felt bound to appear and show +his colors. Against the crying evils of his time he worked bravely in +his own way. He wrote to President Van Buren against the wrong done to +the Cherokees, dared speak against the idolized Webster, when he +deserted the cause of Freedom, constantly spoke of the iniquity of +slavery, aided with speech and money the Free State cause in Kansas, +was at Phillips's side at the antislavery meeting in 1861 broken up by +the Boston mob, urged emancipation during the war. + +He enjoyed his Concord home and neighbors, served on the school +committee for years, did much for the Lyceum, and spoke on the town's +great occasions. He went to all town-meetings, oftener to listen and +admire than to speak, and always took pleasure and pride in the people. +In return he was respected and loved by them. + +Emerson's house was destroyed by fire in 1872, and the incident exposure +and fatigue did him harm. His many friends insisted on rebuilding his +house and sending him abroad to get well. He went up the Nile, and +revisited England, finding old and new friends, and, on his return, was +welcomed and escorted home by the people of Concord. After this time he +was unable to write. His old age was quiet and happy among his family +and friends. He died in April, 1882. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +January, 1899. + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +POEMS + + * * * * * + + + +GOOD-BYE + +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: +Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. +Long through thy weary crowds I roam; +A river-ark on the ocean brine, +Long I've been tossed like the driven foam: +But now, proud world! I'm going home. + +Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; +To Grandeur with his wise grimace; +To upstart Wealth's averted eye; +To supple Office, low and high; +To crowded halls, to court and street; +To frozen hearts and hasting feet; +To those who go, and those who come; +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home. + +I am going to my own hearth-stone, +Bosomed in yon green hills alone,-- +secret nook in a pleasant land, +Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; +Where arches green, the livelong day, +Echo the blackbird's roundelay, +And vulgar feet have never trod +A spot that is sacred to thought and God. + +O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, +I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; +And when I am stretched beneath the pines, +Where the evening star so holy shines, +I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, +At the sophist schools and the learned clan; +For what are they all, in their high conceit, +When man in the bush with God may meet? + + + +EACH AND ALL + +Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown +Of thee from the hill-top looking down; +The heifer that lows in the upland farm, +Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; +The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, +Deems not that great Napoleon +Stops his horse, and lists with delight, +Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; +Nor knowest thou what argument +Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. +All are needed by each one; +Nothing is fair or good alone. +I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, +Singing at dawn on the alder bough; +I brought him home, in his nest, at even; +He sings the song, but it cheers not now, +For I did not bring home the river and sky;-- +He sang to my ear,--they sang to my eye. +The delicate shells lay on the shore; +The bubbles of the latest wave +Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, +And the bellowing of the savage sea +Greeted their safe escape to me. +I wiped away the weeds and foam, +I fetched my sea-born treasures home; +But the poor, unsightly, noisome things +Had left their beauty on the shore +With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. +The lover watched his graceful maid, +As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, +Nor knew her beauty's best attire +Was woven still by the snow-white choir. +At last she came to his hermitage, +Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;-- +The gay enchantment was undone, +A gentle wife, but fairy none. +Then I said, 'I covet truth; +Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; +I leave it behind with the games of youth:'-- +As I spoke, beneath my feet +The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, +Running over the club-moss burrs; +I inhaled the violet's breath; +Around me stood the oaks and firs; +Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; +Over me soared the eternal sky. +Full of light and of deity; +Again I saw, again I heard, +The rolling river, the morning bird;-- +Beauty through my senses stole; +I yielded myself to the perfect whole. + + + +THE PROBLEM + +I like a church; I like a cowl; +I love a prophet of the soul; +And on my heart monastic aisles +Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles +Yet not for all his faith can see +Would I that cowlèd churchman be. + +Why should the vest on him allure, +Which I could not on me endure? + +Not from a vain or shallow thought +His awful Jove young Phidias brought; +Never from lips of cunning fell +The thrilling Delphic oracle; +Out from the heart of nature rolled +The burdens of the Bible old; +The litanies of nations came, +Like the volcano's tongue of flame, +Up from the burning core below,-- +The canticles of love and woe: +The hand that rounded Peter's dome +And groined the aisles of Christian Rome +Wrought in a sad sincerity; +Himself from God he could not free; +He builded better than he knew;-- +The conscious stone to beauty grew. + +Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest +Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? +Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, +Painting with morn each annual cell? +Or how the sacred pine-tree adds +To her old leaves new myriads? +Such and so grew these holy piles, +Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. +Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, +As the best gem upon her zone, +And Morning opes with haste her lids +To gaze upon the Pyramids; +O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, +As on its friends, with kindred eye; +For out of Thought's interior sphere +These wonders rose to upper air; +And Nature gladly gave them place, +Adopted them into her race, +And granted them an equal date +With Andes and with Ararat. + +These temples grew as grows the grass; +Art might obey, but not surpass. +The passive Master lent his hand +To the vast soul that o'er him planned; +And the same power that reared the shrine +Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. +Ever the fiery Pentecost +Girds with one flame the countless host, +Trances the heart through chanting choirs, +And through the priest the mind inspires. +The word unto the prophet spoken +Was writ on tables yet unbroken; +The word by seers or sibyls told, +In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, +Still floats upon the morning wind, +Still whispers to the willing mind. +One accent of the Holy Ghost +The heedless world hath never lost. +I know what say the fathers wise,-- +The Book itself before me lies, +Old _Chrysostom_, best Augustine, +And he who blent both in his line, +The younger _Golden Lips_ or mines, +Taylor, the Shakspeare of divines. +His words are music in my ear, +I see his cowlèd portrait dear; +And yet, for all his faith could see, +I would not the good bishop be. + + + +TO RHEA + +Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes, +Not with flatteries, but truths, +Which tarnish not, but purify +To light which dims the morning's eye. +I have come from the spring-woods, +From the fragrant solitudes;-- +Listen what the poplar-tree +And murmuring waters counselled me. + +If with love thy heart has burned; +If thy love is unreturned; +Hide thy grief within thy breast, +Though it tear thee unexpressed; +For when love has once departed +From the eyes of the false-hearted, +And one by one has torn off quite +The bandages of purple light; +Though thou wert the loveliest +Form the soul had ever dressed, +Thou shalt seem, in each reply, +A vixen to his altered eye; +Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, +Thy praying lute will seem to scold; +Though thou kept the straightest road, +Yet thou errest far and broad. + +But thou shalt do as do the gods +In their cloudless periods; +For of this lore be thou sure,-- +Though thou forget, the gods, secure, +Forget never their command, +But make the statute of this land. +As they lead, so follow all, +Ever have done, ever shall. +Warning to the blind and deaf, +'T is written on the iron leaf, +_Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup_ +_Loveth downward, and not up;_ +He who loves, of gods or men, +Shall not by the same be loved again; +His sweetheart's idolatry +Falls, in turn, a new degree. +When a god is once beguiled +By beauty of a mortal child +And by her radiant youth delighted, +He is not fooled, but warily knoweth +His love shall never be requited. +And thus the wise Immortal doeth,-- +'T is his study and delight +To bless that creature day and night; +From all evils to defend her; +In her lap to pour all splendor; +To ransack earth for riches rare, +And fetch her stars to deck her hair: +He mixes music with her thoughts, +And saddens her with heavenly doubts: +All grace, all good his great heart knows, +Profuse in love, the king bestows, +Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air! +This monument of my despair +Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair. +Not for a private good, +But I, from my beatitude, +Albeit scorned as none was scorned, +Adorn her as was none adorned. +I make this maiden an ensample +To Nature, through her kingdoms ample, +Whereby to model newer races, +Statelier forms and fairer faces; +To carry man to new degrees +Of power and of comeliness. +These presents be the hostages +Which I pawn for my release. +See to thyself, O Universe! +Thou art better, and not worse.'-- +And the god, having given all, +Is freed forever from his thrall. + + + +THE VISIT + +Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' +Devastator of the day! +Know, each substance and relation, +Thorough nature's operation, +Hath its unit, bound and metre; +And every new compound +Is some product and repeater,-- +Product of the earlier found. +But the unit of the visit, +The encounter of the wise,-- +Say, what other metre is it +Than the meeting of the eyes? +Nature poureth into nature +Through the channels of that feature, +Riding on the ray of sight, +Fleeter far than whirlwinds go, +Or for service, or delight, +Hearts to hearts their meaning show, +Sum their long experience, +And import intelligence. +Single look has drained the breast; +Single moment years confessed. +The duration of a glance +Is the term of convenance, +And, though thy rede be church or state, +Frugal multiples of that. +Speeding Saturn cannot halt; +Linger,--thou shalt rue the fault: +If Love his moment overstay, +Hatred's swift repulsions play. + + + +URIEL + +It fell in the ancient periods + Which the brooding soul surveys, +Or ever the wild Time coined itself + Into calendar months and days. + +This was the lapse of Uriel, +Which in Paradise befell. +Once, among the Pleiads walking, +Seyd overheard the young gods talking; +And the treason, too long pent, +To his ears was evident. +The young deities discussed +Laws of form, and metre just, +Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, +What subsisteth, and what seems. +One, with low tones that decide, +And doubt and reverend use defied, +With a look that solved the sphere, +And stirred the devils everywhere, +Gave his sentiment divine +Against the being of a line. +'Line in nature is not found; +Unit and universe are round; +In vain produced, all rays return; +Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' +As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, +A shudder ran around the sky; +The stern old war-gods shook their heads, +The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; +Seemed to the holy festival +The rash word boded ill to all; +The balance-beam of Fate was bent; +The bounds of good and ill were rent; +Strong Hades could not keep his own, +But all slid to confusion. + +A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell +On the beauty of Uriel; +In heaven once eminent, the god +Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; +Whether doomed to long gyration +In the sea of generation, +Or by knowledge grown too bright +To hit the nerve of feebler sight. +Straightway, a forgetting wind +Stole over the celestial kind, +And their lips the secret kept, +If in ashes the fire-seed slept. +But now and then, truth-speaking things +Shamed the angels' veiling wings; +And, shrilling from the solar course, +Or from fruit of chemic force, +Procession of a soul in matter, +Or the speeding change of water, +Or out of the good of evil born, +Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, +And a blush tinged the upper sky, +And the gods shook, they knew not why. + + + +THE WORLD-SOUL + +Thanks to the morning light, + Thanks to the foaming sea, +To the uplands of New Hampshire, + To the green-haired forest free; +Thanks to each man of courage, + To the maids of holy mind, +To the boy with his games undaunted + Who never looks behind. + +Cities of proud hotels, + Houses of rich and great, +Vice nestles in your chambers, + Beneath your roofs of slate. +It cannot conquer folly,-- + Time-and-space-conquering steam,-- +And the light-outspeeding telegraph + Bears nothing on its beam. + +The politics are base; + The letters do not cheer; +And 'tis far in the deeps of history, + The voice that speaketh clear. +Trade and the streets ensnare us, + Our bodies are weak and worn; +We plot and corrupt each other, + And we despoil the unborn. + +Yet there in the parlor sits + Some figure of noble guise,-- +Our angel, in a stranger's form, + Or woman's pleading eyes; +Or only a flashing sunbeam + In at the window-pane; +Or Music pours on mortals + Its beautiful disdain. + +The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be; +And be sure the all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. +Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky between the walls, +Hold all the hidden wonders + In scanty intervals. + +Alas! the Sprite that haunts us + Deceives our rash desire; +It whispers of the glorious gods, + And leaves us in the mire. +We cannot learn the cipher + That's writ upon our cell; +Stars taunt us by a mystery + Which we could never spell. + +If but one hero knew it, + The world would blush in flame; +The sage, till he hit the secret, + Would hang his head for shame. +Our brothers have not read it, + Not one has found the key; +And henceforth we are comforted,-- + We are but such as they. + +Still, still the secret presses; + The nearing clouds draw down; +The crimson morning flames into + The fopperies of the town. +Within, without the idle earth, + Stars weave eternal rings; +The sun himself shines heartily, + And shares the joy he brings. + +And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, +And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o'er?-- +They are but sailing foam-bells + Along Thought's causing stream, +And take their shape and sun-color + From him that sends the dream. + +For Destiny never swerves + Nor yields to men the helm; +He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves, + Throughout the solid realm. +The patient Daemon sits, + With roses and a shroud; +He has his way, and deals his gifts,-- + But ours is not allowed. + +He is no churl nor trifler, + And his viceroy is none,-- +Love-without-weakness,-- + Of Genius sire and son. +And his will is not thwarted; + The seeds of land and sea +Are the atoms of his body bright, + And his behest obey. + +He serveth the servant, + The brave he loves amain; +He kills the cripple and the sick, + And straight begins again; +For gods delight in gods, + And thrust the weak aside; +To him who scorns their charities + Their arms fly open wide. + +When the old world is sterile + And the ages are effete, +He will from wrecks and sediment + The fairer world complete. +He forbids to despair; + His cheeks mantle with mirth; +And the unimagined good of men + Is yeaning at the birth. + +Spring still makes spring in the mind + When sixty years are told; +Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, + And we are never old; +Over the winter glaciers + I see the summer glow, +And through the wild-piled snow-drift + The warm rosebuds below. + + + +THE SPHINX + +The Sphinx is drowsy, + Her wings are furled: +Her ear is heavy, + She broods on the world. +"Who'll tell me my secret, + The ages have kept?-- +I awaited the seer + While they slumbered and slept:-- + +"The fate of the man-child, + The meaning of man; +Known fruit of the unknown; + Daedalian plan; +Out of sleeping a waking, + Out of waking a sleep; +Life death overtaking; + Deep underneath deep? + +"Erect as a sunbeam, + Upspringeth the palm; +The elephant browses, + Undaunted and calm; +In beautiful motion + The thrush plies his wings; +Kind leaves of his covert, + Your silence he sings. + +"The waves, unashamèd, + In difference sweet, +Play glad with the breezes, + Old playfellows meet; +The journeying atoms, + Primordial wholes, +Firmly draw, firmly drive, + By their animate poles. + +"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. + Plant, quadruped, bird, +By one music enchanted, + One deity stirred,-- +Each the other adorning, + Accompany still; +Night veileth the morning, + The vapor the hill. + +"The babe by its mother + Lies bathèd in joy; +Glide its hours uncounted,-- + The sun is its toy; +Shines the peace of all being, + Without cloud, in its eyes; +And the sum of the world + In soft miniature lies. + +"But man crouches and blushes, + Absconds and conceals; +He creepeth and peepeth, + He palters and steals; +Infirm, melancholy, + Jealous glancing around, +An oaf, an accomplice, + He poisons the ground. + +"Out spoke the great mother, + Beholding his fear;-- +At the sound of her accents + Cold shuddered the sphere:-- +'Who has drugged my boy's cup? + Who has mixed my boy's bread? +Who, with sadness and madness, + Has turned my child's head?'" + +I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, +'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. +Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; +They fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime. + +"The fiend that man harries + Is love of the Best; +Yawns the pit of the Dragon, + Lit by rays from the Blest. +The Lethe of Nature + Can't trance him again, +Whose soul sees the perfect, + Which his eyes seek in vain. + +"To vision profounder, + Man's spirit must dive; +His aye-rolling orb + At no goal will arrive; +The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, +Once found,--for new heavens + He spurneth the old. + +"Pride ruined the angels, + Their shame them restores; +Lurks the joy that is sweetest + In stings of remorse. +Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?-- +I would he were nobler + Than to love me. + +"Eterne alternation + Now follows, now flies; +And under pain, pleasure,-- + Under pleasure, pain lies. +Love works at the centre, + Heart-heaving alway; +Forth speed the strong pulses + To the borders of day. + +"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; + Thy sight is growing blear; +Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, + Her muddy eyes to clear!" +The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,-- + Said, "Who taught thee me to name? +I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow; + Of thine eye I am eyebeam. + +"Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, +Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. +So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; +Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply." + +Uprose the merry Sphinx, + And crouched no more in stone; +She melted into purple cloud, + She silvered in the moon; +She spired into a yellow flame; + She flowered in blossoms red; +She flowed into a foaming wave: + She stood Monadnoc's head. + +Thorough a thousand voices + Spoke the universal dame; +"Who telleth one of my meanings + Is master of all I am." + + + +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + +I, Alphonso, live and learn, +Seeing Nature go astern. +Things deteriorate in kind; +Lemons run to leaves and rind; +Meagre crop of figs and limes; +Shorter days and harder times. +Flowering April cools and dies +In the insufficient skies. +Imps, at high midsummer, blot +Half the sun's disk with a spot; +'Twill not now avail to tan +Orange cheek or skin of man. +Roses bleach, the goats are dry, +Lisbon quakes, the people cry. +Yon pale, scrawny fisher fools, +Gaunt as bitterns in the pools, +Are no brothers of my blood;-- +They discredit Adamhood. +Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, +O'er your ramparts as ye lean, +The general debility; +Of genius the sterility; +Mighty projects countermanded; +Rash ambition, brokenhanded; +Puny man and scentless rose +Tormenting Pan to double the dose. +Rebuild or ruin: either fill +Of vital force the wasted rill, +Or tumble all again in heap +To weltering Chaos and to sleep. + +Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, +Which fed the veins of earth and sky, +That mortals miss the loyal heats, +Which drove them erst to social feats; +Now, to a savage selfness grown, +Think nature barely serves for one; +With science poorly mask their hurt; +And vex the gods with question pert, +Immensely curious whether you +Still are rulers, or Mildew? + +Masters, I'm in pain with you; +Masters, I'll be plain with you; +In my palace of Castile, +I, a king, for kings can feel. +There my thoughts the matter roll, +And solve and oft resolve the whole. +And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, +Ye shall not fail for sound advice. +Before ye want a drop of rain, +Hear the sentiment of Spain. + +You have tried famine: no more try it; +Ply us now with a full diet; +Teach your pupils now with plenty, +For one sun supply us twenty. +I have thought it thoroughly over,-- +State of hermit, state of lover; +We must have society, +We cannot spare variety. +Hear you, then, celestial fellows! +Fits not to be overzealous; +Steads not to work on the clean jump, +Nor wine nor brains perpetual pump. +Men and gods are too extense; +Could you slacken and condense? +Your rank overgrowths reduce +Till your kinds abound with juice? +Earth, crowded, cries, 'Too many men!' +My counsel is, kill nine in ten, +And bestow the shares of all +On the remnant decimal. +Add their nine lives to this cat; +Stuff their nine brains in one hat; +Make his frame and forces square +With the labors he must dare; +Thatch his flesh, and even his years +With the marble which he rears. +There, growing slowly old at ease +No faster than his planted trees, +He may, by warrant of his age, +In schemes of broader scope engage. +So shall ye have a man of the sphere +Fit to grace the solar year. + + + +MITHRIDATES + +I cannot spare water or wine, + Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; +From the earth-poles to the Line, + All between that works or grows, +Every thing is kin of mine. + +Give me agates for my meat; +Give me cantharids to eat; +From air and ocean bring me foods, +From all zones and altitudes;-- + +From all natures, sharp and slimy, + Salt and basalt, wild and tame: +Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, + Bird, and reptile, be my game. + +Ivy for my fillet band; +Blinding dog-wood in my hand; +Hemlock for my sherbet cull me, +And the prussic juice to lull me; +Swing me in the upas boughs, +Vampyre-fanned, when I carouse. + +Too long shut in strait and few, +Thinly dieted on dew, +I will use the world, and sift it, +To a thousand humors shift it, +As you spin a cherry. +O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry! +O all you virtues, methods, mights, +Means, appliances, delights, +Reputed wrongs and braggart rights, +Smug routine, and things allowed, +Minorities, things under cloud! +Hither! take me, use me, fill me, +Vein and artery, though ye kill me! + + + +TO J.W. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Hear what wine and roses say; +The mountain chase, the summer waves, +The crowded town, thy feet may well delay. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Nor seek to unwind the shroud +Which charitable Time +And Nature have allowed +To wrap the errors of a sage sublime. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Care not to strip the dead +Of his sad ornament, +His myrrh, and wine, and rings, + +His sheet of lead, +And trophies buried: +Go, get them where he earned them when alive; +As resolutely dig or dive. + +Life is too short to waste +In critic peep or cynic bark, +Quarrel or reprimand: +'T will soon be dark; +Up! mind thine own aim, and +God speed the mark! + + + +DESTINY + +That you are fair or wise is vain, +Or strong, or rich, or generous; +You must add the untaught strain +That sheds beauty on the rose. +There's a melody born of melody, +Which melts the world into a sea. +Toil could never compass it; +Art its height could never hit; +It came never out of wit; +But a music music-born +Well may Jove and Juno scorn. +Thy beauty, if it lack the fire +Which drives me mad with sweet desire, +What boots it? What the soldier's mail, +Unless he conquer and prevail? +What all the goods thy pride which lift, +If thou pine for another's gift? +Alas! that one is born in blight, +Victim of perpetual slight: +When thou lookest on his face, +Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! +None shall ask thee what thou doest, +Or care a rush for what thou knowest, +Or listen when thou repliest, +Or remember where thou liest, +Or how thy supper is sodden;' +And another is born +To make the sun forgotten. +Surely he carries a talisman +Under his tongue; +Broad his shoulders are and strong; +And his eye is scornful, +Threatening and young. +I hold it of little matter +Whether your jewel be of pure water, +A rose diamond or a white, +But whether it dazzle me with light. +I care not how you are dressed, +In coarsest weeds or in the best; +Nor whether your name is base or brave: +Nor for the fashion of your behavior; +But whether you charm me, +Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me +And dress up Nature in your favor. +One thing is forever good; +That one thing is Success,-- +Dear to the Eumenides, +And to all the heavenly brood. +Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, +Carries the eagles, and masters the sword. + + + +GUY + +Mortal mixed of middle clay, +Attempered to the night and day, +Interchangeable with things, +Needs no amulets nor rings. +Guy possessed the talisman +That all things from him began; +And as, of old, Polycrates +Chained the sunshine and the breeze, +So did Guy betimes discover +Fortune was his guard and lover; +In strange junctures, felt, with awe, +His own symmetry with law; +That no mixture could withstand +The virtue of his lucky hand. +He gold or jewel could not lose, +Nor not receive his ample dues. +Fearless Guy had never foes, +He did their weapons decompose. +Aimed at him, the blushing blade +Healed as fast the wounds it made. +If on the foeman fell his gaze, +Him it would straightway blind or craze, +In the street, if he turned round, +His eye the eye 't was seeking found. + +It seemed his Genius discreet +Worked on the Maker's own receipt, +And made each tide and element +Stewards of stipend and of rent; +So that the common waters fell +As costly wine into his well. +He had so sped his wise affairs +That he caught Nature in his snares. +Early or late, the falling rain +Arrived in time to swell his grain; +Stream could not so perversely wind +But corn of Guy's was there to grind: +The siroc found it on its way, +To speed his sails, to dry his hay; +And the world's sun seemed to rise +To drudge all day for Guy the wise. +In his rich nurseries, timely skill +Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; +The zephyr in his garden rolled +From plum-trees vegetable gold; +And all the hours of the year +With their own harvest honored were. +There was no frost but welcome came, +Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. +Belonged to wind and world the toil +And venture, and to Guy the oil. + + + +HAMATREYA + +Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, +Possessed the land which rendered to their toil +Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood. +Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm, +Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's. +How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees! +How graceful climb those shadows on my hill! +I fancy these pure waters and the flags +Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize; +And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.' + +Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds: +And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. +Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys +Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; +Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet +Clear of the grave. +They added ridge to valley, brook to pond, +And sighed for all that bounded their domain; +'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park; +We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge, +And misty lowland, where to go for peat. +The land is well,--lies fairly to the south. +'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back, +To find the sitfast acres where you left them.' +Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds +Him to his land, a lump of mould the more. +Hear what the Earth says:-- + + EARTH-SONG + + 'Mine and yours; + Mine, not yours. + Earth endures; + Stars abide-- + Shine down in the old sea; + Old are the shores; + But where are old men? + I who have seen much, + Such have I never seen. + + 'The lawyer's deed + Ran sure, + In tail, + To them, and to their heirs + Who shall succeed, + Without fail, + Forevermore. + + 'Here is the land, + Shaggy with wood, + With its old valley, + Mound and flood. + But the heritors?-- + + Fled like the flood's foam. + The lawyer, and the laws, + And the kingdom, + Clean swept herefrom. + + 'They called me theirs, + Who so controlled me; + Yet every one + Wished to stay, and is gone, + How am I theirs, + If they cannot hold me, + But I hold them?' + +When I heard the Earth-song +I was no longer brave; +My avarice cooled +Like lust in the chill of the grave. + + + +THE RHODORA: + +ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? + +In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, +I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, +Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, +To please the desert and the sluggish brook. +The purple petals, fallen in the pool, +Made the black water with their beauty gay; +Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. +And court the flower that cheapens his array. +Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why +This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, +Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, +Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: +Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! +I never thought to ask, I never knew: +But, in my simple ignorance, suppose +The self-same Power that brought me there brought you. + + + +THE HUMBLE-BEE + +Burly, dozing humble-bee, +Where thou art is clime for me. +Let them sail for Porto Rique, +Far-off heats through seas to seek; +I will follow thee alone, +Thou animated torrid-zone! +Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, +Let me chase thy waving lines; +Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, +Singing over shrubs and vines. + +Insect lover of the sun, +Joy of thy dominion! +Sailor of the atmosphere; +Swimmer through the waves of air; +Voyager of light and noon; +Epicurean of June; +Wait, I prithee, till I come +Within earshot of thy hum,-- +All without is martyrdom. + +When the south wind, in May days, +With a net of shining haze +Silvers the horizon wall, +And with softness touching all, +Tints the human countenance +With a color of romance, +And infusing subtle heats, +Turns the sod to violets, +Thou, in sunny solitudes, +Rover of the underwoods, +The green silence dost displace +With thy mellow, breezy bass. + +Hot midsummer's petted crone, +Sweet to me thy drowsy tone +Tells of countless sunny hours, +Long days, and solid banks of flowers; +Of gulfs of sweetness without bound +In Indian wildernesses found; +Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, +Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. + +Aught unsavory or unclean +Hath my insect never seen; +But violets and bilberry bells, +Maple-sap and daffodels, +Grass with green flag half-mast high, +Succory to match the sky, +Columbine with horn of honey, +Scented fern, and agrimony, +Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue +And brier-roses, dwelt among; +All beside was unknown waste, +All was picture as he passed. + +Wiser far than human seer, +Yellow-breeched philosopher! +Seeing only what is fair, +Sipping only what is sweet, +Thou dost mock at fate and care, +Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. +When the fierce northwestern blast +Cools sea and land so far and fast, +Thou already slumberest deep; +Woe and want thou canst outsleep; +Want and woe, which torture us, +Thy sleep makes ridiculous. + + + +BERRYING + +'May be true what I had heard,-- +Earth's a howling wilderness, +Truculent with fraud and force,' +Said I, strolling through the pastures, +And along the river-side. +Caught among the blackberry vines, +Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, +Pleasant fancies overtook me. +I said, 'What influence me preferred, +Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' +The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem +No wisdom from our berries went?' + + + +THE SNOW-STORM + +Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, +Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, +Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air +Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, +And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. +The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet +Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit +Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed +In a tumultuous privacy of storm. + + Come see the north wind's masonry. +Out of an unseen quarry +Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer +Curves his white bastions with projected roof +Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. +Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work +So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he +For number or proportion. Mockingly, +On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; +A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; +Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, +Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate +A tapering turret overtops the work. +And when his hours are numbered, and the world +Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, +Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art +To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, +Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, +The frolic architecture of the snow. + + + +WOODNOTES I + +1 + +When the pine tosses its cones +To the song of its waterfall tones, +Who speeds to the woodland walks? +To birds and trees who talks? +Caesar of his leafy Rome, +There the poet is at home. +He goes to the river-side,-- +Not hook nor line hath he; +He stands in the meadows wide,-- +Nor gun nor scythe to see. +Sure some god his eye enchants: +What he knows nobody wants. +In the wood he travels glad, +Without better fortune had, +Melancholy without bad. +Knowledge this man prizes best +Seems fantastic to the rest: +Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, +Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, +Boughs on which the wild bees settle, +Tints that spot the violet's petal, +Why Nature loves the number five, +And why the star-form she repeats: +Lover of all things alive, +Wonderer at all he meets, +Wonderer chiefly at himself, +Who can tell him what he is? +Or how meet in human elf +Coming and past eternities? + +2 + +And such I knew, a forest seer, +A minstrel of the natural year, +Foreteller of the vernal ides, +Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, +A lover true, who knew by heart +Each joy the mountain dales impart; +It seemed that Nature could not raise +A plant in any secret place, +In quaking bog, on snowy hill, +Beneath the grass that shades the rill, +Under the snow, between the rocks, +In damp fields known to bird and fox. +But he would come in the very hour +It opened in its virgin bower, +As if a sunbeam showed the place, +And tell its long-descended race. +It seemed as if the breezes brought him, +It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; +As if by secret sight he knew +Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. +Many haps fall in the field +Seldom seen by wishful eyes, +But all her shows did Nature yield, +To please and win this pilgrim wise. +He saw the partridge drum in the woods; +He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; +He found the tawny thrushes' broods; +And the shy hawk did wait for him; +What others did at distance hear, +And guessed within the thicket's gloom, +Was shown to this philosopher, +And at his bidding seemed to come. + +3 + +In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang +Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; +He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon +The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; +Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, +And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. +He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, +The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, +And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, +Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. +He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, +With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,-- +One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, +Declares the close of its green century. +Low lies the plant to whose creation went +Sweet influence from every element; +Whose living towers the years conspired to build, +Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. +Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, +He roamed, content alike with man and beast. +Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; +There the red morning touched him with its light. +Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, +So long he roved at will the boundless shade. +The timid it concerns to ask their way, +And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, +To make no step until the event is known, +And ills to come as evils past bemoan. +Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps +To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; +Go where he will, the wise man is at home, +His hearth the earth,--his hall the azure dome; +Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road +By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. + +4 + +'T was one of the charmèd days +When the genius of God doth flow; +The wind may alter twenty ways, +A tempest cannot blow; +It may blow north, it still is warm; +Or south, it still is clear; +Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; +Or west, no thunder fear. +The musing peasant, lowly great, +Beside the forest water sate; +The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown +Composed the network of his throne; +The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, +Was burnished to a floor of glass, +Painted with shadows green and proud +Of the tree and of the cloud. +He was the heart of all the scene; +On him the sun looked more serene; +To hill and cloud his face was known,-- +It seemed the likeness of their own; +They knew by secret sympathy +The public child of earth and sky. +'You ask,' he said, 'what guide +Me through trackless thickets led, +Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. +I found the water's bed. +The watercourses were my guide; +I travelled grateful by their side, +Or through their channel dry; +They led me through the thicket damp, +Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, +Through beds of granite cut my road, +And their resistless friendship showed. +The falling waters led me, +The foodful waters fed me, +And brought me to the lowest land, +Unerring to the ocean sand. +The moss upon the forest bark +Was pole-star when the night was dark; +The purple berries in the wood +Supplied me necessary food; +For Nature ever faithful is +To such as trust her faithfulness. +When the forest shall mislead me, +When the night and morning lie, +When sea and land refuse to feed me, +'T will be time enough to die; +Then will yet my mother yield +A pillow in her greenest field, +Nor the June flowers scorn to cover +The clay of their departed lover.' + + + +WOODNOTES II + +_As sunbeams stream through liberal space_ +_And nothing jostle or displace,_ +_So waved the pine-tree through my thought_ +_And fanned the dreams it never brought._ + +'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? +Come to me,' +Quoth the pine-tree, +'I am the giver of honor. +My garden is the cloven rock, +And my manure the snow; +And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, +In summer's scorching glow. +He is great who can live by me: +The rough and bearded forester +Is better than the lord; +God fills the script and canister, +Sin piles the loaded board. +The lord is the peasant that was, +The peasant the lord that shall be; +The lord is hay, the peasant grass, +One dry, and one the living tree. +Who liveth by the ragged pine +Foundeth a heroic line; +Who liveth in the palace hall +Waneth fast and spendeth all. +He goes to my savage haunts, +With his chariot and his care; +My twilight realm he disenchants, +And finds his prison there. + +'What prizes the town and the tower? +Only what the pine-tree yields; +Sinew that subdued the fields; +The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods +Chants his hymn to hills and floods, +Whom the city's poisoning spleen +Made not pale, or fat, or lean; +Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, +Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, +In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, +In whose feet the lion rusheth, +Iron arms, and iron mould, +That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. +I give my rafters to his boat, +My billets to his boiler's throat, +And I will swim the ancient sea +To float my child to victory, +And grant to dwellers with the pine +Dominion o'er the palm and vine. +Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, +Unnerves his strength, invites his end. +Cut a bough from my parent stem, +And dip it in thy porcelain vase; +A little while each russet gem +Will swell and rise with wonted grace; +But when it seeks enlarged supplies, +The orphan of the forest dies. +Whoso walks in solitude +And inhabiteth the wood, +Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, +Before the money-loving herd, +Into that forester shall pass, +From these companions, power and grace. +Clean shall he be, without, within, +From the old adhering sin, +All ill dissolving in the light +Of his triumphant piercing sight: +Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; +Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; +Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, +And of all other men desired. +On him the light of star and moon +Shall fall with purer radiance down; +All constellations of the sky +Shed their virtue through his eye. +Him Nature giveth for defence +His formidable innocence; +The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, +All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; +He shall meet the speeding year, +Without wailing, without fear; +He shall be happy in his love, +Like to like shall joyful prove; +He shall be happy whilst he wooes, +Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. +But if with gold she bind her hair, +And deck her breast with diamond, +Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, +Though thou lie alone on the ground. + +'Heed the old oracles, +Ponder my spells; +Song wakes in my pinnacles +When the wind swells. +Soundeth the prophetic wind, +The shadows shake on the rock behind, +And the countless leaves of the pine are strings +Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. + Hearken! Hearken! +If thou wouldst know the mystic song +Chanted when the sphere was young. +Aloft, abroad, the paean swells; +O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? +O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? +'Tis the chronicle of art. +To the open ear it sings +Sweet the genesis of things, +Of tendency through endless ages, +Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, +Of rounded worlds, of space and time, +Of the old flood's subsiding slime, +Of chemic matter, force and form, +Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: +The rushing metamorphosis +Dissolving all that fixture is, +Melts things that be to things that seem, +And solid nature to a dream. +O, listen to the undersong, +The ever old, the ever young; +And, far within those cadent pauses, +The chorus of the ancient Causes! +Delights the dreadful Destiny +To fling his voice into the tree, +And shock thy weak ear with a note +Breathed from the everlasting throat. +In music he repeats the pang +Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. +O mortal! thy ears are stones; +These echoes are laden with tones +Which only the pure can hear; +Thou canst not catch what they recite +Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, +Of man to come, of human life, +Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' + + Once again the pine-tree sung:-- +'Speak not thy speech my boughs among: +Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; +My hours are peaceful centuries. +Talk no more with feeble tongue; +No more the fool of space and time, +Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. +Only thy Americans +Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, +But the runes that I rehearse +Understands the universe; +The least breath my boughs which tossed +Brings again the Pentecost; +To every soul resounding clear +In a voice of solemn cheer,-- +"Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" +And they reply, "Forever mine!" +My branches speak Italian, +English, German, Basque, Castilian, +Mountain speech to Highlanders, +Ocean tongues to islanders, +To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, +To each his bosom-secret say. + + 'Come learn with me the fatal song +Which knits the world in music strong, +Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, +Of things with things, of times with times, +Primal chimes of sun and shade, +Of sound and echo, man and maid, +The land reflected in the flood, +Body with shadow still pursued. +For Nature beats in perfect tune, +And rounds with rhyme her every rune, +Whether she work in land or sea, +Or hide underground her alchemy. +Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, +Or dip thy paddle in the lake, +But it carves the bow of beauty there, +And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. +The wood is wiser far than thou; +The wood and wave each other know +Not unrelated, unaffied, +But to each thought and thing allied, +Is perfect Nature's every part, +Rooted in the mighty Heart, +But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, +Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, +Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? +Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? +Who thee divorced, deceived and left? +Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, +And torn the ensigns from thy brow, +And sunk the immortal eye so low? +Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, +Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender +For royal man;--they thee confess +An exile from the wilderness,-- +The hills where health with health agrees, +And the wise soul expels disease. +Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign +By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. +When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, +Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, +To thee the horizon shall express +But emptiness on emptiness; +There lives no man of Nature's worth +In the circle of the earth; +And to thine eye the vast skies fall, +Dire and satirical, +On clucking hens and prating fools, +On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. +And thou shalt say to the Most High, +"Godhead! all this astronomy, +And fate and practice and invention, +Strong art and beautiful pretension, +This radiant pomp of sun and star, +Throes that were, and worlds that are, +Behold! were in vain and in vain;-- +It cannot be,--I will look again. +Surely now will the curtain rise, +And earth's fit tenant me surprise;-- +But the curtain doth _not_ rise, +And Nature has miscarried wholly +Into failure, into folly." + +'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, +Blessed Nature so to see. +Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, +And heal the hurts which sin has made. +I see thee in the crowd alone; +I will be thy companion. +Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, +And build to them a final tomb; +Let the starred shade that nightly falls +Still celebrate their funerals, +And the bell of beetle and of bee +Knell their melodious memory. +Behind thee leave thy merchandise, +Thy churches and thy charities; +And leave thy peacock wit behind; +Enough for thee the primal mind +That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: +Leave all thy pedant lore apart; +God hid the whole world in thy heart. +Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, +Gives all to them who all renounce. +The rain comes when the wind calls; +The river knows the way to the sea; +Without a pilot it runs and falls, +Blessing all lands with its charity; +The sea tosses and foams to find +Its way up to the cloud and wind; +The shadow sits close to the flying ball; +The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; +And thou,--go burn thy wormy pages,-- +Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. +Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain +To find what bird had piped the strain:-- +Seek not, and the little eremite +Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. + +'Hearken once more! +I will tell thee the mundane lore. +Older am I than thy numbers wot, +Change I may, but I pass not. +Hitherto all things fast abide, +And anchored in the tempest ride. +Trenchant time behoves to hurry +All to yean and all to bury: +All the forms are fugitive, +But the substances survive. +Ever fresh the broad creation, +A divine improvisation, +From the heart of God proceeds, +A single will, a million deeds. +Once slept the world an egg of stone, +And pulse, and sound, and light was none; +And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion +And the vast mass became vast ocean. +Onward and on, the eternal Pan, +Who layeth the world's incessant plan, +Halteth never in one shape, +But forever doth escape, +Like wave or flame, into new forms +Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. +I, that to-day am a pine, +Yesterday was a bundle of grass. +He is free and libertine, +Pouring of his power the wine +To every age, to every race; +Unto every race and age +He emptieth the beverage; +Unto each, and unto all, +Maker and original. +The world is the ring of his spells, +And the play of his miracles. +As he giveth to all to drink, +Thus or thus they are and think. +With one drop sheds form and feature; +With the next a special nature; +The third adds heat's indulgent spark; +The fourth gives light which eats the dark; +Into the fifth himself he flings, +And conscious Law is King of kings. +As the bee through the garden ranges, +From world to world the godhead changes; +As the sheep go feeding in the waste, +From form to form He maketh haste; +This vault which glows immense with light +Is the inn where he lodges for a night. +What recks such Traveller if the bowers +Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers +A bunch of fragrant lilies be, +Or the stars of eternity? +Alike to him the better, the worse,-- +The glowing angel, the outcast corse. +Thou metest him by centuries, +And lo! he passes like the breeze; +Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, +He hides in pure transparency; +Thou askest in fountains and in fires, +He is the essence that inquires. +He is the axis of the star; +He is the sparkle of the spar; +He is the heart of every creature; +He is the meaning of each feature; +And his mind is the sky. +Than all it holds more deep, more high.' + + + +MONADNOC + +Thousand minstrels woke within me, + 'Our music's in the hills;'-- +Gayest pictures rose to win me, + Leopard-colored rills. +'Up!--If thou knew'st who calls +To twilight parks of beech and pine, +High over the river intervals, +Above the ploughman's highest line, +Over the owner's farthest walls! +Up! where the airy citadel +O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell! +Let not unto the stones the Day +Her lily and rose, her sea and land display. +Read the celestial sign! +Lo! the south answers to the north; +Bookworm, break this sloth urbane; +A greater spirit bids thee forth +Than the gray dreams which thee detain. +Mark how the climbing Oreads +Beckon thee to their arcades; +Youth, for a moment free as they, +Teach thy feet to feel the ground, +Ere yet arrives the wintry day +When Time thy feet has bound. +Take the bounty of thy birth, +Taste the lordship of the earth.' + + I heard, and I obeyed,-- +Assured that he who made the claim, +Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid. +Ere yet the summoning voice was still, +I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill. +From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed +Like ample banner flung abroad +To all the dwellers in the plains +Round about, a hundred miles, +With salutation to the sea and to the bordering isles. +In his own loom's garment dressed, +By his proper bounty blessed, +Fast abides this constant giver, +Pouring many a cheerful river; +To far eyes, an aerial isle +Unploughed, which finer spirits pile, +Which morn and crimson evening paint +For bard, for lover and for saint; +An eyemark and the country's core, +Inspirer, prophet evermore; +Pillar which God aloft had set +So that men might it not forget; +It should be their life's ornament, +And mix itself with each event; +Gauge and calendar and dial, +Weatherglass and chemic phial, +Garden of berries, perch of birds, +Pasture of pool-haunting herds, +Graced by each change of sum untold, +Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold. + +The Titan heeds his sky-affairs, +Rich rents and wide alliance shares; +Mysteries of color daily laid +By morn and eve in light and shade; +And sweet varieties of chance, +And the mystic seasons' dance; +And thief-like step of liberal hours +Thawing snow-drift into flowers. +O, wondrous craft of plant and stone +By eldest science wrought and shown! + +'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here! +Fair fortunes to the mountaineer! +Boon Nature to his poorest shed +Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.' +Intent, I searched the region round, +And in low hut the dweller found: +Woe is me for my hope's downfall! +Is yonder squalid peasant all +That this proud nursery could breed +For God's vicegerency and stead? +Time out of mind, this forge of ores; +Quarry of spars in mountain pores; +Old cradle, hunting-ground and bier +Of wolf and otter, bear and deer; +Well-built abode of many a race; +Tower of observance searching space; +Factory of river and of rain; +Link in the Alps' globe-girding chain; +By million changes skilled to tell +What in the Eternal standeth well, +And what obedient Nature can;-- +Is this colossal talisman +Kindly to plant and blood and kind, +But speechless to the master's mind? +I thought to find the patriots +In whom the stock of freedom roots; +To myself I oft recount +Tales of many a famous mount,-- +Wales, Scotland, Uri, Hungary's dells: +Bards, Roys, Scanderbegs and Tells; +And think how Nature in these towers +Uplifted shall condense her powers, +And lifting man to the blue deep +Where stars their perfect courses keep, +Like wise preceptor, lure his eye +To sound the science of the sky, +And carry learning to its height +Of untried power and sane delight: +The Indian cheer, the frosty skies, +Rear purer wits, inventive eyes,-- +Eyes that frame cities where none be, +And hands that stablish what these see: +And by the moral of his place +Hint summits of heroic grace; +Man in these crags a fastness find +To fight pollution of the mind; +In the wide thaw and ooze of wrong, +Adhere like this foundation strong, +The insanity of towns to stem +With simpleness for stratagem. +But if the brave old mould is broke, +And end in churls the mountain folk +In tavern cheer and tavern joke, +Sink, O mountain, in the swamp! +Hide in thy skies, O sovereign lamp! +Perish like leaves, the highland breed +No sire survive, no son succeed! + +Soft! let not the offended muse +Toil's hard hap with scorn accuse. +Many hamlets sought I then, +Many farms of mountain men. +Rallying round a parish steeple +Nestle warm the highland people, +Coarse and boisterous, yet mild, +Strong as giant, slow as child. +Sweat and season are their arts, +Their talismans are ploughs and carts; +And well the youngest can command +Honey from the frozen land; +With cloverheads the swamp adorn, +Change the running sand to corn; +For wolf and fox, bring lowing herds, +And for cold mosses, cream and curds: +Weave wood to canisters and mats; +Drain sweet maple juice in vats. +No bird is safe that cuts the air +From their rifle or their snare; +No fish, in river or in lake, +But their long hands it thence will take; +Whilst the country's flinty face, +Like wax, their fashioning skill betrays, +To fill the hollows, sink the hills, +Bridge gulfs, drain swamps, build dams and mills, +And fit the bleak and howling waste +For homes of virtue, sense and taste. +The World-soul knows his own affair, +Forelooking, when he would prepare +For the next ages, men of mould +Well embodied, well ensouled, +He cools the present's fiery glow, +Sets the life-pulse strong but slow: +Bitter winds and fasts austere +His quarantines and grottoes, where +He slowly cures decrepit flesh, +And brings it infantile and fresh. +Toil and tempest are the toys +And games to breathe his stalwart boys: +They bide their time, and well can prove, +If need were, their line from Jove; +Of the same stuff, and so allayed, +As that whereof the sun is made, +And of the fibre, quick and strong, +Whose throbs are love, whose thrills are song. + + Now in sordid weeds they sleep, +In dulness now their secret keep; +Yet, will you learn our ancient speech, +These the masters who can teach. +Fourscore or a hundred words +All their vocal muse affords; +But they turn them in a fashion +Past clerks' or statesmen's art or passion. +I can spare the college bell, +And the learned lecture, well; +Spare the clergy and libraries, +Institutes and dictionaries, +For that hardy English root +Thrives here, unvalued, underfoot. +Rude poets of the tavern hearth, +Squandering your unquoted mirth, +Which keeps the ground and never soars, +While Jake retorts and Reuben roars; +Scoff of yeoman strong and stark, +Goes like bullet to its mark; +While the solid curse and jeer +Never balk the waiting ear. + + On the summit as I stood, +O'er the floor of plain and flood +Seemed to me, the towering hill +Was not altogether still, +But a quiet sense conveyed: +If I err not, thus it said:-- + +'Many feet in summer seek, +Oft, my far-appearing peak; +In the dreaded winter time, +None save dappling shadows climb, +Under clouds, my lonely head, +Old as the sun, old almost as the shade; +And comest thou +To see strange forests and new snow, +And tread uplifted land? +And leavest thou thy lowland race, +Here amid clouds to stand? +And wouldst be my companion +Where I gaze, and still shall gaze, +Through tempering nights and flashing days, +When forests fall, and man is gone, +Over tribes and over times, +At the burning Lyre, +Nearing me, +With its stars of northern fire, +In many a thousand years? + +'Gentle pilgrim, if thou know +The gamut old of Pan, +And how the hills began, +The frank blessings of the hill +Fall on thee, as fall they will. + +'Let him heed who can and will; +Enchantment fixed me here +To stand the hurts of time, until +In mightier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest +How the chemic eddies play, +Pole to pole, and what they say; +And that these gray crags +Not on crags are hung, +But beads are of a rosary +On prayer and music strung; +And, credulous, through the granite seeming, +Seest the smile of Reason beaming;-- +Can thy style-discerning eye +The hidden-working Builder spy, +Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din, +With hammer soft as snowflake's flight;-- +Knowest thou this? +O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! +Already my rocks lie light, +And soon my cone will spin. + +'For the world was built in order, +And the atoms march in tune; +Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, +The sun obeys them and the moon. +Orb and atom forth they prance, +When they hear from far the rune; +None so backward in the troop, +When the music and the dance +Reach his place and circumstance, +But knows the sun-creating sound, +And, though a pyramid, will bound. + +'Monadnoc is a mountain strong, +Tall and good my kind among; +But well I know, no mountain can, +Zion or Meru, measure with man. +For it is on zodiacs writ, +Adamant is soft to wit: +And when the greater comes again +With my secret in his brain, +I shall pass, as glides my shadow +Daily over hill and meadow. + +'Through all time, in light, in gloom +Well I hear the approaching feet +On the flinty pathway beat +Of him that cometh, and shall come; +Of him who shall as lightly bear +My daily load of woods and streams, +As doth this round sky-cleaving boat +Which never strains its rocky beams; +Whose timbers, as they silent float, +Alps and Caucasus uprear, +And the long Alleghanies here, +And all town-sprinkled lands that be, +Sailing through stars with all their history. + +'Every morn I lift my head, +See New England underspread, +South from Saint Lawrence to the Sound, +From Katskill east to the sea-bound. +Anchored fast for many an age, +I await the bard and sage, +Who, in large thoughts, like fair pearl-seed, +Shall string Monadnoc like a bead. +Comes that cheerful troubadour, +This mound shall throb his face before, +As when, with inward fires and pain, +It rose a bubble from the plain. +When he cometh, I shall shed, +From this wellspring in my head, +Fountain-drop of spicier worth +Than all vintage of the earth. +There's fruit upon my barren soil +Costlier far than wine or oil. +There's a berry blue and gold,-- +Autumn-ripe, its juices hold +Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart, +Asia's rancor, Athens' art, +Slowsure Britain's secular might, +And the German's inward sight. +I will give my son to eat +Best of Pan's immortal meat, +Bread to eat, and juice to drain; +So the coinage of his brain +Shall not be forms of stars, but stars, +Nor pictures pale, but Jove and Mars, +He comes, but not of that race bred +Who daily climb my specular head. +Oft as morning wreathes my scarf, +Fled the last plumule of the Dark, +Pants up hither the spruce clerk +From South Cove and City Wharf. +I take him up my rugged sides, +Half-repentant, scant of breath,-- +Bead-eyes my granite chaos show, +And my midsummer snow: +Open the daunting map beneath,-- +All his county, sea and land, +Dwarfed to measure of his hand; +His day's ride is a furlong space, +His city-tops a glimmering haze. +I plant his eyes on the sky-hoop bounding; +"See there the grim gray rounding +Of the bullet of the earth +Whereon ye sail, +Tumbling steep +In the uncontinented deep." +He looks on that, and he turns pale. +'T is even so, this treacherous kite, +Farm-furrowed, town-incrusted sphere, +Thoughtless of its anxious freight, +Plunges eyeless on forever; +And he, poor parasite, +Cooped in a ship he cannot steer,-- +Who is the captain he knows not, +Port or pilot trows not,-- +Risk or ruin he must share. +I scowl on him with my cloud, +With my north wind chill his blood; +I lame him, clattering down the rocks; +And to live he is in fear. +Then, at last, I let him down +Once more into his dapper town, +To chatter, frightened, to his clan +And forget me if he can.' + +As in the old poetic fame +The gods are blind and lame, +And the simular despite +Betrays the more abounding might, +So call not waste that barren cone +Above the floral zone, +Where forests starve: +It is pure use;-- +What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind +Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse? + +Ages are thy days, +Thou grand affirmer of the present tense, +And type of permanence! +Firm ensign of the fatal Being, +Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief, +That will not bide the seeing! + +Hither we bring +Our insect miseries to thy rocks; +And the whole flight, with folded wing, +Vanish, and end their murmuring,-- +Vanish beside these dedicated blocks, +Which who can tell what mason laid? +Spoils of a front none need restore, +Replacing frieze and architrave;-- +Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave; +Still is the haughty pile erect +Of the old building Intellect. + +Complement of human kind, +Holding us at vantage still, +Our sumptuous indigence, +O barren mound, thy plenties fill! +We fool and prate; +Thou art silent and sedate. +To myriad kinds and times one sense +The constant mountain doth dispense; +Shedding on all its snows and leaves, +One joy it joys, one grief it grieves. +Thou seest, O watchman tall, +Our towns and races grow and fall, +And imagest the stable good +For which we all our lifetime grope, +In shifting form the formless mind, +And though the substance us elude, +We in thee the shadow find. +Thou, in our astronomy +An opaker star, +Seen haply from afar, +Above the horizon's hoop, +A moment, by the railway troop, +As o'er some bolder height they speed,-- +By circumspect ambition, +By errant gain, +By feasters and the frivolous,-- +Recallest us, +And makest sane. +Mute orator! well skilled to plead, +And send conviction without phrase, +Thou dost succor and remede +The shortness of our days, +And promise, on thy Founder's truth, +Long morrow to this mortal youth. + + + +FABLE + +The mountain and the squirrel +Had a quarrel, +And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; +Bun replied, +'You are doubtless very big; +But all sorts of things and weather +Must be taken in together, +To make up a year +And a sphere. +And I think it no disgrace +To occupy my place. +If I'm not so large as you, +You are not so small as I, +And not half so spry. +I'll not deny you make +A very pretty squirrel track; +Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; +If I cannot carry forests on my back, +Neither can you crack a nut.' + + + +ODE + +INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING + +Though loath to grieve +The evil time's sole patriot, +I cannot leave +My honied thought +For the priest's cant, +Or statesman's rant. + +If I refuse +My study for their politique, +Which at the best is trick, +The angry Muse +Puts confusion in my brain. + +But who is he that prates +Of the culture of mankind, +Of better arts and life? +Go, blindworm, go, +Behold the famous States +Harrying Mexico +With rifle and with knife! + +Or who, with accent bolder, +Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer? +I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook! +And in thy valleys, Agiochook! +The jackals of the negro-holder. + +The God who made New Hampshire +Taunted the lofty land +With little men;-- +Small bat and wren +House in the oak:-- +If earth-fire cleave +The upheaved land, and bury the folk, +The southern crocodile would grieve. +Virtue palters; Right is hence; +Freedom praised, but hid; +Funeral eloquence +Rattles the coffin-lid. + +What boots thy zeal, +O glowing friend, +That would indignant rend +The northland from the south? +Wherefore? to what good end? +Boston Bay and Bunker Hill +Would serve things still;-- +Things are of the snake. + +The horseman serves the horse, +The neatherd serves the neat, +The merchant serves the purse, +The eater serves his meat; +'T is the day of the chattel, +Web to weave, and corn to grind; +Things are in the saddle, +And ride mankind. + +There are two laws discrete, +Not reconciled,-- +Law for man, and law for thing; +The last builds town and fleet, +But it runs wild, +And doth the man unking. + +'T is fit the forest fall, +The steep be graded, +The mountain tunnelled, +The sand shaded, +The orchard planted, +The glebe tilled, +The prairie granted, +The steamer built. + +Let man serve law for man; +Live for friendship, live for love, +For truth's and harmony's behoof; +The state may follow how it can, +As Olympus follows Jove. + + Yet do not I implore +The wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods, +Nor bid the unwilling senator +Ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes. +Every one to his chosen work;-- +Foolish hands may mix and mar; +Wise and sure the issues are. +Round they roll till dark is light, +Sex to sex, and even to odd;-- +The over-god +Who marries Right to Might, +Who peoples, unpeoples,-- +He who exterminates +Races by stronger races, +Black by white faces,-- +Knows to bring honey +Out of the lion; +Grafts gentlest scion +On pirate and Turk. + +The Cossack eats Poland, +Like stolen fruit; +Her last noble is ruined, +Her last poet mute: +Straight, into double band +The victors divide; +Half for freedom strike and stand;-- +The astonished Muse finds thousands at her side. + + + +ASTRAEA + +Each the herald is who wrote +His rank, and quartered his own coat. +There is no king nor sovereign state +That can fix a hero's rate; +Each to all is venerable, +Cap-a-pie invulnerable, +Until he write, where all eyes rest, +Slave or master on his breast. +I saw men go up and down, +In the country and the town, +With this tablet on their neck, +'Judgment and a judge we seek.' +Not to monarchs they repair, +Nor to learned jurist's chair; +But they hurry to their peers, +To their kinsfolk and their dears; +Louder than with speech they pray,-- +'What am I? companion, say.' +And the friend not hesitates +To assign just place and mates; +Answers not in word or letter, +Yet is understood the better; +Each to each a looking-glass, +Reflects his figure that doth pass. +Every wayfarer he meets +What himself declared repeats, +What himself confessed records, +Sentences him in his words; +The form is his own corporal form, +And his thought the penal worm. +Yet shine forever virgin minds, +Loved by stars and purest winds, +Which, o'er passion throned sedate, +Have not hazarded their state; +Disconcert the searching spy, +Rendering to a curious eye +The durance of a granite ledge. +To those who gaze from the sea's edge +It is there for benefit; +It is there for purging light; +There for purifying storms; +And its depths reflect all forms; +It cannot parley with the mean,-- +Pure by impure is not seen. +For there's no sequestered grot, +Lone mountain tarn, or isle forgot, +But Justice, journeying in the sphere, +Daily stoops to harbor there. + + + +ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE + +I serve you not, if you I follow, +Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; +And bend my fancy to your leading, +All too nimble for my treading. +When the pilgrimage is done, +And we've the landscape overrun, +I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, +And your heart is unsupported. +Vainly valiant, you have missed +The manhood that should yours resist,-- +Its complement; but if I could, +In severe or cordial mood, +Lead you rightly to my altar, +Where the wisest Muses falter, +And worship that world-warming spark +Which dazzles me in midnight dark, +Equalizing small and large, +While the soul it doth surcharge, +Till the poor is wealthy grown, +And the hermit never alone,-- +The traveller and the road seem one +With the errand to be done,-- +That were a man's and lover's part, +That were Freedom's whitest chart. + + + +COMPENSATION + +Why should I keep holiday + When other men have none? +Why but because, when these are gay, + I sit and mourn alone? + +And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, + Should mine alone be dumb? +Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, + And now their hour is come. + + + +FORBEARANCE + +Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? +Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? +At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? +Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? +And loved so well a high behavior, +In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, +Nobility more nobly to repay? +O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! + + + +THE PARK + +The prosperous and beautiful + To me seem not to wear +The yoke of conscience masterful, + Which galls me everywhere. + +I cannot shake off the god; + On my neck he makes his seat; +I look at my face in the glass,-- + My eyes his eyeballs meet. + +Enchanters! Enchantresses! + Your gold makes you seem wise; +The morning mist within your grounds + More proudly rolls, more softly lies. + +Yet spake yon purple mountain, + Yet said yon ancient wood, +That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, + Leads all souls to the Good. + + + +FORERUNNERS + +Long I followed happy guides, +I could never reach their sides; +Their step is forth, and, ere the day +Breaks up their leaguer, and away. +Keen my sense, my heart was young, +Right good-will my sinews strung, +But no speed of mine avails +To hunt upon their shining trails. +On and away, their hasting feet +Make the morning proud and sweet; +Flowers they strew,--I catch the scent; +Or tone of silver instrument +Leaves on the wind melodious trace; +Yet I could never see their face. +On eastern hills I see their smokes, +Mixed with mist by distant lochs. +I met many travellers +Who the road had surely kept; +They saw not my fine revellers,-- +These had crossed them while they slept. +Some had heard their fair report, +In the country or the court. +Fleetest couriers alive +Never yet could once arrive, +As they went or they returned, +At the house where these sojourned. +Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, +Though they are not overtaken; +In sleep their jubilant troop is near,-- +I tuneful voices overhear; +It may be in wood or waste,-- +At unawares 't is come and past. +Their near camp my spirit knows +By signs gracious as rainbows. +I thenceforward and long after +Listen for their harp-like laughter, +And carry in my heart, for days, +Peace that hallows rudest ways. + + + +SURSUM CORDA + +Seek not the spirit, if it hide +Inexorable to thy zeal: +Trembler, do not whine and chide: +Art thou not also real? +Stoop not then to poor excuse; +Turn on the accuser roundly; say, +'Here am I, here will I abide +Forever to myself soothfast; +Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' +Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, +For only it can absolutely deal. + + + +ODE TO BEAUTY + +Who gave thee, O Beauty, +The keys of this breast,-- +Too credulous lover +Of blest and unblest? +Say, when in lapsed ages +Thee knew I of old? +Or what was the service +For which I was sold? +When first my eyes saw thee, +I found me thy thrall, +By magical drawings, +Sweet tyrant of all! +I drank at thy fountain +False waters of thirst; +Thou intimate stranger, +Thou latest and first! +Thy dangerous glances +Make women of men; +New-born, we are melting +Into nature again. + +Lavish, lavish promiser, +Nigh persuading gods to err! +Guest of million painted forms, +Which in turn thy glory warms! +The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, +The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, +The swinging spider's silver line, +The ruby of the drop of wine, +The shining pebble of the pond, +Thou inscribest with a bond, +In thy momentary play, +Would bankrupt nature to repay. + +Ah, what avails it +To hide or to shun +Whom the Infinite One +Hath granted his throne? +The heaven high over +Is the deep's lover; +The sun and sea, +Informed by thee, +Before me run +And draw me on, +Yet fly me still, +As Fate refuses +To me the heart Fate for me chooses. +Is it that my opulent soul +Was mingled from the generous whole; +Sea-valleys and the deep of skies +Furnished several supplies; +And the sands whereof I'm made +Draw me to them, self-betrayed? + +I turn the proud portfolio +Which holds the grand designs +Of Salvator, of Guercino, +And Piranesi's lines. +I hear the lofty paeans +Of the masters of the shell, +Who heard the starry music +And recount the numbers well; +Olympian bards who sung +Divine Ideas below, +Which always find us young +And always keep us so. +Oft, in streets or humblest places, +I detect far-wandered graces, +Which, from Eden wide astray, +In lowly homes have lost their way. + +Thee gliding through the sea of form, +Like the lightning through the storm, +Somewhat not to be possessed, +Somewhat not to be caressed, +No feet so fleet could ever find, +No perfect form could ever bind. +Thou eternal fugitive, +Hovering over all that live, +Quick and skilful to inspire +Sweet, extravagant desire, +Starry space and lily-bell +Filling with thy roseate smell, +Wilt not give the lips to taste +Of the nectar which thou hast. + +All that's good and great with thee +Works in close conspiracy; +Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely +To report thy features only, +And the cold and purple morning +Itself with thoughts of thee adorning; +The leafy dell, the city mart, +Equal trophies of thine art; +E'en the flowing azure air +Thou hast touched for my despair; +And, if I languish into dreams, +Again I meet the ardent beams. +Queen of things! I dare not die +In Being's deeps past ear and eye; +Lest there I find the same deceiver +And be the sport of Fate forever. +Dread Power, but dear! if God thou be, +Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me! + + + +GIVE ALL TO LOVE + +Give all to love; +Obey thy heart; +Friends, kindred, days, +Estate, good-fame, +Plans, credit and the Muse,-- +Nothing refuse. + +'T is a brave master; +Let it have scope: +Follow it utterly, +Hope beyond hope: +High and more high +It dives into noon, +With wing unspent, +Untold intent; +But it is a god, +Knows its own path +And the outlets of the sky. + +It was never for the mean; +It requireth courage stout. +Souls above doubt, +Valor unbending, +It will reward,-- +They shall return +More than they were, +And ever ascending. + +Leave all for love; +Yet, hear me, yet, +One word more thy heart behoved, +One pulse more of firm endeavor,-- +Keep thee to-day, +To-morrow, forever, +Free as an Arab +Of thy beloved. + +Cling with life to the maid; +But when the surprise, +First vague shadow of surmise +Flits across her bosom young, +Of a joy apart from thee, +Free be she, fancy-free; +Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, +Nor the palest rose she flung +From her summer diadem. + +Though thou loved her as thyself, +As a self of purer clay, +Though her parting dims the day, +Stealing grace from all alive; +Heartily know, +When half-gods go. +The gods arrive. + + + +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + +The green grass is bowing, + The morning wind is in it; +'T is a tune worth thy knowing, + Though it change every minute. + +'T is a tune of the Spring; + Every year plays it over +To the robin on the wing, + And to the pausing lover. + +O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, + Goes light the nimble zephyr; +The Flowers--tiny sect of Shakers-- + Worship him ever. + +Hark to the winning sound! + They summon thee, dearest,-- +Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, + Nor yet thou appearest. + +'O hasten;' 't is our time, + Ere yet the red Summer +Scorch our delicate prime, + Loved of bee,--the tawny hummer. + +'O pride of thy race! + Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, +If our brief tribe miss thy face, + We poor New England flowers. + +'Fairest, choose the fairest members + Of our lithe society; +June's glories and September's + Show our love and piety. + +'Thou shalt command us all,-- + April's cowslip, summer's clover, +To the gentian in the fall, + Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. + +'O come, then, quickly come! + We are budding, we are blowing; +And the wind that we perfume + Sings a tune that's worth the knowing.' + + + +TO ELLEN + +And Ellen, when the graybeard years + Have brought us to life's evening hour, +And all the crowded Past appears + A tiny scene of sun and shower, + +Then, if I read the page aright + Where Hope, the soothsayer, reads our lot, +Thyself shalt own the page was bright, + Well that we loved, woe had we not, + +When Mirth is dumb and Flattery's fled, + And mute thy music's dearest tone, +When all but Love itself is dead + And all but deathless Reason gone. + + + +TO EVA + +O fair and stately maid, whose eyes +Were kindled in the upper skies + At the same torch that lighted mine; +For so I must interpret still +Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, + A sympathy divine. + +Ah! let me blameless gaze upon +Features that seem at heart my own; + Nor fear those watchful sentinels, +Who charm the more their glance forbids, +Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, + With fire that draws while it repels. + + + +LINES + +WRITTEN BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER SHORTLY BEFORE +HER MARRIAGE TO MR. EMERSON + +Love scatters oil + On Life's dark sea, +Sweetens its toil-- + Our helmsman he. + +Around him hover + Odorous clouds; +Under this cover + His arrows he shrouds. + +The cloud was around me, + I knew not why +Such sweetness crowned me. + While Time shot by. + +No pain was within, + But calm delight, +Like a world without sin, + Or a day without night. + +The shafts of the god + Were tipped with down, +For they drew no blood, + And they knit no frown. + +I knew of them not + Until Cupid laughed loud, +And saying "You're caught!" + Flew off in the cloud. + +O then I awoke, + And I lived but to sigh, +Till a clear voice spoke,-- + And my tears are dry. + + + +THE VIOLET + +BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER + +Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; +Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; +Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, +Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? + +Why wilt thou live when none around reflects thy pensive ray? +Thou bloomest here a lonely thing in the clear autumn day. +The tall green trees, that shelter thee, their last gay dress put on; +There will be nought to shelter thee when their sweet leaves are gone. + +O Violet, like thee, how blest could I lie down and die, +When summer light is fading, and autumn breezes sigh; +When Winter reigned I'd close my eye, but wake with bursting Spring, +And live with living nature, a pure rejoicing thing. + +I had a sister once who seemed just like a violet; +Her morning sun shone bright and calmly purely set; +When the violets were in their shrouds, and Summer in its pride, +She laid her hopes at rest, and in the year's rich beauty died. + + + +THE AMULET + +Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; +Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings _since_ it came. + +Give me an amulet + That keeps intelligence with you,-- +Red when you love, and rosier red, + And when you love not, pale and blue. + +Alas! that neither bonds nor vows + Can certify possession; +Torments me still the fear that love + Died in its last expression. + + + +THINE EYES STILL SHINED + +Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + I lonely roved the land or sea: +As I behold yon evening star, + Which yet beholds not me. + +This morn I climbed the misty hill + And roamed the pastures through; +How danced thy form before my path + Amidst the deep-eyed dew! + +When the redbird spread his sable wing, + And showed his side of flame; +When the rosebud ripened to the rose, + In both I read thy name. + + + +EROS + +The sense of the world is short,-- +Long and various the report,-- + To love and be beloved; +Men and gods have not outlearned it; +And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, + Not to be improved. + + + +HERMIONE + +On a mound an Arab lay, +And sung his sweet regrets +And told his amulets: +The summer bird +His sorrow heard, +And, when he heaved a sigh profound, +The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. + +'If it be, as they said, she was not fair, +Beauty's not beautiful to me, +But sceptred genius, aye inorbed, +Culminating in her sphere. +This Hermione absorbed +The lustre of the land and ocean, +Hills and islands, cloud and tree, +In her form and motion. + +'I ask no bauble miniature, +Nor ringlets dead +Shorn from her comely head, +Now that morning not disdains +Mountains and the misty plains +Her colossal portraiture; +They her heralds be, +Steeped in her quality, +And singers of her fame +Who is their Muse and dame. + +'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say. +Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, +Say, was it just, +In thee to frame, in me to trust, +Thou to the Syrian couldst belong? + +'I am of a lineage +That each for each doth fast engage; +In old Bassora's schools, I seemed +Hermit vowed to books and gloom,-- +Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom. +I was by thy touch redeemed; +When thy meteor glances came, +We talked at large of worldly fate, +And drew truly every trait. + +'Once I dwelt apart, +Now I live with all; +As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side +Seems, by the traveller espied, +A door into the mountain heart, +So didst thou quarry and unlock +Highways for me through the rock. + +'Now, deceived, thou wanderest +In strange lands unblest; +And my kindred come to soothe me. +Southwind is my next of blood; +He is come through fragrant wood, +Drugged with spice from climates warm, +And in every twinkling glade, +And twilight nook, +Unveils thy form. +Out of the forest way +Forth paced it yesterday; +And when I sat by the watercourse, +Watching the daylight fade, +It throbbed up from the brook. + +'River and rose and crag and bird, +Frost and sun and eldest night, +To me their aid preferred, +To me their comfort plight;-- +"Courage! we are thine allies, +And with this hint be wise,-- +The chains of kind +The distant bind; +Deed thou doest she must do, +Above her will, be true; +And, in her strict resort +To winds and waterfalls +And autumn's sunlit festivals, +To music, and to music's thought, +Inextricably bound, +She shall find thee, and be found. +Follow not her flying feet; +Come to us herself to meet."' + + + +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + +I. THE INITIAL LOVE + +Venus, when her son was lost, +Cried him up and down the coast, +In hamlets, palaces and parks, +And told the truant by his marks,-- +Golden curls, and quiver and bow. +This befell how long ago! +Time and tide are strangely changed, +Men and manners much deranged: +None will now find Cupid latent +By this foolish antique patent. +He came late along the waste, +Shod like a traveller for haste; +With malice dared me to proclaim him, +That the maids and boys might name him. + +Boy no more, he wears all coats, +Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; +He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, +Nor chaplet on his head or hand. +Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,-- +All the rest he can disguise. +In the pit of his eye's a spark +Would bring back day if it were dark; +And, if I tell you all my thought, +Though I comprehend it not, +In those unfathomable orbs +Every function he absorbs; +Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, +And write, and reason, and compute, +And ride, and run, and have, and hold, +And whine, and flatter, and regret, +And kiss, and couple, and beget, +By those roving eyeballs bold. + +Undaunted are their courages, +Right Cossacks in their forages; +Fleeter they than any creature,-- +They are his steeds, and not his feature; +Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, +Restless, predatory, hasting; +And they pounce on other eyes +As lions on their prey; +And round their circles is writ, +Plainer than the day, +Underneath, within, above,-- +Love--love--love--love. +He lives in his eyes; +There doth digest, and work, and spin, +And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; +He rolls them with delighted motion, +Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean. +Yet holds he them with tautest rein, +That they may seize and entertain +The glance that to their glance opposes, +Like fiery honey sucked from roses. +He palmistry can understand, +Imbibing virtue by his hand +As if it were a living root; +The pulse of hands will make him mute; +With all his force he gathers balms +Into those wise, thrilling palms. + +Cupid is a casuist, +A mystic and a cabalist,-- +Can your lurking thought surprise, +And interpret your device. +He is versed in occult science, +In magic and in clairvoyance, +Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, +And Reason on her tiptoe pained +For aëry intelligence, +And for strange coincidence. +But it touches his quick heart +When Fate by omens takes his part, +And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere +Deeply soothe his anxious ear. + +Heralds high before him run; +He has ushers many a one; +He spreads his welcome where he goes, +And touches all things with his rose. +All things wait for and divine him,-- +How shall I dare to malign him, +Or accuse the god of sport? +I must end my true report, +Painting him from head to foot, +In as far as I took note, +Trusting well the matchless power +Of this young-eyed emperor +Will clear his fame from every cloud +With the bards and with the crowd. + +He is wilful, mutable, +Shy, untamed, inscrutable, +Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. +Substance mixed of pure contraries; +His vice some elder virtue's token, +And his good is evil-spoken. +Failing sometimes of his own, +He is headstrong and alone; +He affects the wood and wild, +Like a flower-hunting child; +Buries himself in summer waves, +In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, +Loves nature like a hornèd cow, +Bird, or deer, or caribou. + +Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses! +He has a total world of wit; +O how wise are his discourses! +But he is the arch-hypocrite, +And, through all science and all art, +Seeks alone his counterpart. +He is a Pundit of the East, +He is an augur and a priest, +And his soul will melt in prayer, +But word and wisdom is a snare; +Corrupted by the present toy +He follows joy, and only joy. +There is no mask but he will wear; +He invented oaths to swear; +He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, +And holds all stars in his embrace. +He takes a sovran privilege +Not allowed to any liege; +For Cupid goes behind all law, +And right into himself does draw; +For he is sovereignly allied,-- +Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,-- +And interchangeably at one +With every king on every throne, +That no god dare say him nay, +Or see the fault, or seen betray; +He has the Muses by the heart, +And the stern Parcae on his part. + +His many signs cannot be told; +He has not one mode, but manifold, +Many fashions and addresses, +Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses. +He will preach like a friar, +And jump like Harlequin; +He will read like a crier, +And fight like a Paladin. +Boundless is his memory; +Plans immense his term prolong; +He is not of counted age, +Meaning always to be young. +And his wish is intimacy, +Intimater intimacy, +And a stricter privacy; +The impossible shall yet be done, +And, being two, shall still be one. +As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, +Then runs into a wave again, +So lovers melt their sundered selves, +Yet melted would be twain. + + + +II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + +Man was made of social earth, +Child and brother from his birth, +Tethered by a liquid cord +Of blood through veins of kindred poured. +Next his heart the fireside band +Of mother, father, sister, stand; +Names from awful childhood heard +Throbs of a wild religion stirred;-- +Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; +Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, +Till Beauty came to snap all ties; +The maid, abolishing the past, +With lotus wine obliterates +Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, +And, by herself, supplants alone +Friends year by year more inly known. +When her calm eyes opened bright, +All else grew foreign in their light. +It was ever the self-same tale, +The first experience will not fail; +Only two in the garden walked, +And with snake and seraph talked. + +Close, close to men, +Like undulating layer of air, +Right above their heads, +The potent plain of Daemons spreads. +Stands to each human soul its own, +For watch and ward and furtherance, +In the snares of Nature's dance; +And the lustre and the grace +To fascinate each youthful heart, +Beaming from its counterpart, +Translucent through the mortal covers, +Is the Daemon's form and face. +To and fro the Genius hies,-- +A gleam which plays and hovers +Over the maiden's head, +And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. +Unknown, albeit lying near, +To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; +And they that swiftly come and go +Leave no track on the heavenly snow. +Sometimes the airy synod bends, +And the mighty choir descends, +And the brains of men thenceforth, +In crowded and in still resorts, +Teem with unwonted thoughts: +As, when a shower of meteors +Cross the orbit of the earth, +And, lit by fringent air, +Blaze near and far, +Mortals deem the planets bright +Have slipped their sacred bars, +And the lone seaman all the night +Sails, astonished, amid stars. + +Beauty of a richer vein, +Graces of a subtler strain, +Unto men these moonmen lend, +And our shrinking sky extend. +So is man's narrow path +By strength and terror skirted; +Also (from the song the wrath +Of the Genii be averted! +The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) +The Daemons are self-seeking: +Their fierce and limitary will +Draws men to their likeness still. +The erring painter made Love blind,-- +Highest Love who shines on all; +Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted god, +None can bewilder; +Whose eyes pierce +The universe, +Path-finder, road-builder, +Mediator, royal giver; +Rightly seeing, rightly seen, +Of joyful and transparent mien. +'T is a sparkle passing +From each to each, from thee to me, +To and fro perpetually; +Sharing all, daring all, +Levelling, displacing +Each obstruction, it unites +Equals remote, and seeming opposites. +And ever and forever Love +Delights to build a road: +Unheeded Danger near him strides, +Love laughs, and on a lion rides. +But Cupid wears another face, +Born into Daemons less divine: +His roses bleach apace, +His nectar smacks of wine. +The Daemon ever builds a wall, +Himself encloses and includes, +Solitude in solitudes: +In like sort his love doth fall. +He doth elect +The beautiful and fortunate, +And the sons of intellect, +And the souls of ample fate, +Who the Future's gates unbar,-- +Minions of the Morning Star. +In his prowess he exults, +And the multitude insults. +His impatient looks devour +Oft the humble and the poor; +And, seeing his eye glare, +They drop their few pale flowers, +Gathered with hope to please, +Along the mountain towers,-- +Lose courage, and despair. +He will never be gainsaid,-- +Pitiless, will not be stayed; +His hot tyranny +Burns up every other tie. +Therefore comes an hour from Jove +Which his ruthless will defies, +And the dogs of Fate unties. +Shiver the palaces of glass; +Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, +Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt +Secure as in the zodiac's belt; +And the galleries and halls, +Wherein every siren sung, +Like a meteor pass. +For this fortune wanted root +In the core of God's abysm,-- +Was a weed of self and schism; +And ever the Daemonic Love +Is the ancestor of wars +And the parent of remorse. + + + +III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + +But God said, +'I will have a purer gift; +There is smoke in the flame; +New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, +And love without a name. +Fond children, ye desire +To please each other well; +Another round, a higher, +Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, +And selfish preference forbear; +And in right deserving, +And without a swerving +Each from your proper state, +Weave roses for your mate. + +'Deep, deep are loving eyes, +Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet; +And the point is paradise, +Where their glances meet: +Their reach shall yet be more profound, +And a vision without bound: +The axis of those eyes sun-clear +Be the axis of the sphere: +So shall the lights ye pour amain +Go, without check or intervals, +Through from the empyrean walls +Unto the same again.' + +Higher far into the pure realm, +Over sun and star, +Over the flickering Daemon film, +Thou must mount for love; +Into vision where all form +In one only form dissolves; +In a region where the wheel +On which all beings ride +Visibly revolves; +Where the starred, eternal worm +Girds the world with bound and term; +Where unlike things are like; +Where good and ill, +And joy and moan, +Melt into one. + +There Past, Present, Future, shoot +Triple blossoms from one root; +Substances at base divided, +In their summits are united; +There the holy essence rolls, +One through separated souls; +And the sunny Aeon sleeps +Folding Nature in its deeps, +And every fair and every good, +Known in part, or known impure, +To men below, +In their archetypes endure. +The race of gods, +Or those we erring own, +Are shadows flitting up and down +In the still abodes. +The circles of that sea are laws +Which publish and which hide the cause. + +Pray for a beam +Out of that sphere, +Thee to guide and to redeem. +O, what a load +Of care and toil, +By lying use bestowed, +From his shoulders falls who sees +The true astronomy, +The period of peace. +Counsel which the ages kept +Shall the well-born soul accept. +As the overhanging trees +Fill the lake with images,-- +As garment draws the garment's hem, +Men their fortunes bring with them. +By right or wrong, +Lands and goods go to the strong. +Property will brutely draw +Still to the proprietor; +Silver to silver creep and wind, +And kind to kind. + +Nor less the eternal poles +Of tendency distribute souls. +There need no vows to bind +Whom not each other seek, but find. +They give and take no pledge or oath,-- +Nature is the bond of both: +No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,-- +Their noble meanings are their pawns. +Plain and cold is their address, +Power have they for tenderness; +And, so thoroughly is known +Each other's counsel by his own, +They can parley without meeting; +Need is none of forms of greeting; +They can well communicate +In their innermost estate; +When each the other shall avoid, +Shall each by each be most enjoyed. + +Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves +Do these celebrate their loves: +Not by jewels, feasts and savors, +Not by ribbons or by favors, +But by the sun-spark on the sea, +And the cloud-shadow on the lea, +The soothing lapse of morn to mirk, +And the cheerful round of work. +Their cords of love so public are, +They intertwine the farthest star: +The throbbing sea, the quaking earth, +Yield sympathy and signs of mirth; +Is none so high, so mean is none, +But feels and seals this union; +Even the fell Furies are appeased, +The good applaud, the lost are eased. + +Love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, +Bound for the just, but not beyond; +Not glad, as the low-loving herd, +Of self in other still preferred, +But they have heartily designed +The benefit of broad mankind. +And they serve men austerely, +After their own genius, clearly, +Without a false humility; +For this is Love's nobility,-- +Not to scatter bread and gold, +Goods and raiment bought and sold; +But to hold fast his simple sense, +And speak the speech of innocence, +And with hand and body and blood, +To make his bosom-counsel good. +He that feeds men serveth few; +He serves all who dares be true. + + + +THE APOLOGY + +Think me not unkind and rude + That I walk alone in grove and glen; +I go to the god of the wood + To fetch his word to men. + +Tax not my sloth that I + Fold my arms beside the brook; +Each cloud that floated in the sky + Writes a letter in my book. + +Chide me not, laborious band, + For the idle flowers I brought; +Every aster in my hand + Goes home loaded with a thought. + +There was never mystery + But 'tis figured in the flowers; +Was never secret history + But birds tell it in the bowers. + +One harvest from thy field + Homeward brought the oxen strong; +A second crop thine acres yield, + Which I gather in a song. + + + +MERLIN I + +Thy trivial harp will never please +Or fill my craving ear; +Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, +Free, peremptory, clear. +No jingling serenader's art, +Nor tinkle of piano strings, +Can make the wild blood start +In its mystic springs. +The kingly bard +Must smite the chords rudely and hard, +As with hammer or with mace; +That they may render back +Artful thunder, which conveys +Secrets of the solar track, +Sparks of the supersolar blaze. +Merlin's blows are strokes of fate, +Chiming with the forest tone, +When boughs buffet boughs in the wood; +Chiming with the gasp and moan +Of the ice-imprisoned flood; +With the pulse of manly hearts; +With the voice of orators; +With the din of city arts; +With the cannonade of wars; +With the marches of the brave; +And prayers of might from martyrs' cave. + +Great is the art, +Great be the manners, of the bard. +He shall not his brain encumber +With the coil of rhythm and number; +But, leaving rule and pale forethought, +He shall aye climb +For his rhyme. +'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, +'In to the upper doors, +Nor count compartments of the floors, +But mount to paradise +By the stairway of surprise.' + +Blameless master of the games, +King of sport that never shames, +He shall daily joy dispense +Hid in song's sweet influence. +Forms more cheerly live and go, +What time the subtle mind +Sings aloud the tune whereto +Their pulses beat, +And march their feet, +And their members are combined. + +By Sybarites beguiled, +He shall no task decline; +Merlin's mighty line +Extremes of nature reconciled,-- +Bereaved a tyrant of his will, +And made the lion mild. +Songs can the tempest still, +Scattered on the stormy air, +Mould the year to fair increase, +And bring in poetic peace. + +He shall not seek to weave, +In weak, unhappy times, +Efficacious rhymes; +Wait his returning strength. +Bird that from the nadir's floor +To the zenith's top can soar,-- +The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length. +Nor profane affect to hit +Or compass that, by meddling wit, +Which only the propitious mind +Publishes when 't is inclined. +There are open hours +When the God's will sallies free, +And the dull idiot might see +The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;-- +Sudden, at unawares, +Self-moved, fly-to the doors. +Nor sword of angels could reveal +What they conceal. + + + +MERLIN II + +The rhyme of the poet +Modulates the king's affairs; +Balance-loving Nature +Made all things in pairs. +To every foot its antipode; +Each color with its counter glowed; +To every tone beat answering tones, +Higher or graver; +Flavor gladly blends with flavor; +Leaf answers leaf upon the bough; +And match the paired cotyledons. +Hands to hands, and feet to feet, +In one body grooms and brides; +Eldest rite, two married sides +In every mortal meet. +Light's far furnace shines, +Smelting balls and bars, +Forging double stars, +Glittering twins and trines. +The animals are sick with love, +Lovesick with rhyme; +Each with all propitious Time +Into chorus wove. + +Like the dancers' ordered band, +Thoughts come also hand in hand; +In equal couples mated, +Or else alternated; +Adding by their mutual gage, +One to other, health and age. +Solitary fancies go +Short-lived wandering to and fro, +Most like to bachelors, +Or an ungiven maid, +Not ancestors, +With no posterity to make the lie afraid, +Or keep truth undecayed. +Perfect-paired as eagle's wings, +Justice is the rhyme of things; +Trade and counting use +The self-same tuneful muse; +And Nemesis, +Who with even matches odd, +Who athwart space redresses +The partial wrong, +Fills the just period, +And finishes the song. + +Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife, +Murmur in the house of life, +Sung by the Sisters as they spin; +In perfect time and measure they +Build and unbuild our echoing clay. +As the two twilights of the day +Fold us music-drunken in. + + + +BACCHUS + +Bring me wine, but wine which never grew +In the belly of the grape, +Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through, +Under the Andes to the Cape, +Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. + +Let its grapes the morn salute +From a nocturnal root, +Which feels the acrid juice +Of Styx and Erebus; +And turns the woe of Night, +By its own craft, to a more rich delight. + +We buy ashes for bread; +We buy diluted wine; +Give me of the true,-- +Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled +Among the silver hills of heaven +Draw everlasting dew; +Wine of wine, +Blood of the world, +Form of forms, and mould of statures, +That I intoxicated, +And by the draught assimilated, +May float at pleasure through all natures; +The bird-language rightly spell, +And that which roses say so well. + +Wine that is shed +Like the torrents of the sun +Up the horizon walls, +Or like the Atlantic streams, which run +When the South Sea calls. + +Water and bread, +Food which needs no transmuting, +Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, +Wine which is already man, +Food which teach and reason can. + +Wine which Music is,-- +Music and wine are one,-- +That I, drinking this, +Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; +Kings unborn shall walk with me; +And the poor grass shall plot and plan +What it will do when it is man. +Quickened so, will I unlock +Every crypt of every rock. + +I thank the joyful juice +For all I know;-- +Winds of remembering +Of the ancient being blow, +And seeming-solid walls of use +Open and flow. + +Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; +Retrieve the loss of me and mine! +Vine for vine be antidote, +And the grape requite the lote! +Haste to cure the old despair,-- +Reason in Nature's lotus drenched, +The memory of ages quenched; +Give them again to shine; +Let wine repair what this undid; +And where the infection slid, +A dazzling memory revive; +Refresh the faded tints, +Recut the aged prints, +And write my old adventures with the pen +Which on the first day drew, +Upon the tablets blue, +The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. + + + +MEROPS + +What care I, so they stand the same,-- + Things of the heavenly mind,-- +How long the power to give them name + Tarries yet behind? + +Thus far to-day your favors reach, + O fair, appeasing presences! +Ye taught my lips a single speech, + And a thousand silences. + +Space grants beyond his fated road + No inch to the god of day; +And copious language still bestowed + One word, no more, to say. + + + +THE HOUSE + +There is no architect + Can build as the Muse can; +She is skilful to select + Materials for her plan; + +Slow and warily to choose + Rafters of immortal pine, +Or cedar incorruptible, + Worthy her design, + +She threads dark Alpine forests + Or valleys by the sea, +In many lands, with painful steps, + Ere she can find a tree. + +She ransacks mines and ledges + And quarries every rock, +To hew the famous adamant + For each eternal block-- + +She lays her beams in music, + In music every one, +To the cadence of the whirling world + Which dances round the sun-- + +That so they shall not be displaced + By lapses or by wars, +But for the love of happy souls + Outlive the newest stars. + + + +SAADI + +Trees in groves, +Kine in droves, +In ocean sport the scaly herds, +Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, +To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, +Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, +Men consort in camp and town, +But the poet dwells alone. + +God, who gave to him the lyre, +Of all mortals the desire, +For all breathing men's behoof, +Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;' +Annexed a warning, poets say, +To the bright premium,-- +Ever, when twain together play, +Shall the harp be dumb. + +Many may come, +But one shall sing; +Two touch the string, +The harp is dumb. +Though there come a million, +Wise Saadi dwells alone. + +Yet Saadi loved the race of men,-- +No churl, immured in cave or den; +In bower and hall +He wants them all, +Nor can dispense +With Persia for his audience; +They must give ear, +Grow red with joy and white with fear; +But he has no companion; +Come ten, or come a million, +Good Saadi dwells alone. + +Be thou ware where Saadi dwells; +Wisdom of the gods is he,-- +Entertain it reverently. +Gladly round that golden lamp +Sylvan deities encamp, +And simple maids and noble youth +Are welcome to the man of truth. +Most welcome they who need him most, +They feed the spring which they exhaust; +For greater need +Draws better deed: +But, critic, spare thy vanity, +Nor show thy pompous parts, +To vex with odious subtlety +The cheerer of men's hearts. + +Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say +Endless dirges to decay, +Never in the blaze of light +Lose the shudder of midnight; +Pale at overflowing noon +Hear wolves barking at the moon; +In the bower of dalliance sweet +Hear the far Avenger's feet: +And shake before those awful Powers, +Who in their pride forgive not ours. +Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach: +'Bard, when thee would Allah teach, +And lift thee to his holy mount, +He sends thee from his bitter fount +Wormwood,--saying, "Go thy ways; +Drink not the Malaga of praise, +But do the deed thy fellows hate, +And compromise thy peaceful state; +Smite the white breasts which thee fed. +Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head +Of them thou shouldst have comforted; +For out of woe and out of crime +Draws the heart a lore sublime."' +And yet it seemeth not to me +That the high gods love tragedy; +For Saadi sat in the sun, +And thanks was his contrition; +For haircloth and for bloody whips, +Had active hands and smiling lips; +And yet his runes he rightly read, +And to his folk his message sped. +Sunshine in his heart transferred +Lighted each transparent word, +And well could honoring Persia learn +What Saadi wished to say; +For Saadi's nightly stars did burn +Brighter than Jami's day. + +Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot: +'O gentle Saadi, listen not, +Tempted by thy praise of wit, +Or by thirst and appetite +For the talents not thine own, +To sons of contradiction. +Never, son of eastern morning, +Follow falsehood, follow scorning. +Denounce who will, who will deny, +And pile the hills to scale the sky; +Let theist, atheist, pantheist, +Define and wrangle how they list, +Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,-- +But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer, +Unknowing war, unknowing crime, +Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme; +Heed not what the brawlers say, +Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + +'Let the great world bustle on +With war and trade, with camp and town; +A thousand men shall dig and eat; +At forge and furnace thousands sweat; +And thousands sail the purple sea, +And give or take the stroke of war, +Or crowd the market and bazaar; +Oft shall war end, and peace return, +And cities rise where cities burn, +Ere one man my hill shall climb, +Who can turn the golden rhyme. +Let them manage how they may, +Heed thou only Saadi's lay. +Seek the living among the dead,-- +Man in man is imprisonèd; +Barefooted Dervish is not poor, +If fate unlock his bosom's door, +So that what his eye hath seen +His tongue can paint as bright, as keen; +And what his tender heart hath felt +With equal fire thy heart shalt melt. +For, whom the Muses smile upon, +And touch with soft persuasion, +His words like a storm-wind can bring +Terror and beauty on their wing; +In his every syllable +Lurketh Nature veritable; +And though he speak in midnight dark,-- +In heaven no star, on earth no spark,-- +Yet before the listener's eye +Swims the world in ecstasy, +The forest waves, the morning breaks, +The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes, +Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be, +And life pulsates in rock or tree. +Saadi, so far thy words shall reach: +Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!' + +And thus to Saadi said the Muse: +'Eat thou the bread which men refuse; +Flee from the goods which from thee flee; +Seek nothing,--Fortune seeketh thee. +Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep +The midway of the eternal deep. +Wish not to fill the isles with eyes +To fetch thee birds of paradise: +On thine orchard's edge belong +All the brags of plume and song; +Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass +For proverbs in the market-place: +Through mountains bored by regal art, +Toil whistles as he drives his cart. +Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind, +A poet or a friend to find: +Behold, he watches at the door! +Behold his shadow on the floor! +Open innumerable doors +The heaven where unveiled Allah pours +The flood of truth, the flood of good, +The Seraph's and the Cherub's food. +Those doors are men: the Pariah hind +Admits thee to the perfect Mind. +Seek not beyond thy cottage wall +Redeemers that can yield thee all: +While thou sittest at thy door +On the desert's yellow floor, +Listening to the gray-haired crones, +Foolish gossips, ancient drones, +Saadi, see! they rise in stature +To the height of mighty Nature, +And the secret stands revealed +Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,-- +That blessed gods in servile masks +Plied for thee thy household tasks.' + + + +HOLIDAYS + +From fall to spring, the russet acorn, + Fruit beloved of maid and boy, +Lent itself beneath the forest, + To be the children's toy. + +Pluck it now! In vain,--thou canst not; + Its root has pierced yon shady mound; +Toy no longer--it has duties; + It is anchored in the ground. + +Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, + Playfellow of young and old, +Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, + More dear to one than mines of gold. + +Whither went the lovely hoyden? + Disappeared in blessed wife; +Servant to a wooden cradle, + Living in a baby's life. + +Still thou playest;--short vacation + Fate grants each to stand aside; +Now must thou be man and artist,-- + 'T is the turning of the tide. + + + +XENOPHANES + +By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave +One scent to hyson and to wall-flower, +One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls, +One aspect to the desert and the lake. +It was her stern necessity: all things +Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower, +Song, picture, form, space, thought and character +Deceive us, seeming to be many things, +And are but one. Beheld far off, they part +As God and devil; bring them to the mind, +They dull its edge with their monotony. +To know one element, explore another, +And in the second reappears the first. +The specious panorama of a year +But multiplies the image of a day,-- +A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame; +And universal Nature, through her vast +And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, +Repeats one note. + + + +THE DAY'S RATION + + When I was born, +From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, +Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice, +Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw +From my great arteries,--nor less, nor more.' +All substances the cunning chemist Time +Melts down into that liquor of my life,-- +Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust. +And whether I am angry or content, +Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt, +All he distils into sidereal wine +And brims my little cup; heedless, alas! +Of all he sheds how little it will hold, +How much runs over on the desert sands. +If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray, +And I uplift myself into its heaven, +The needs of the first sight absorb my blood, +And all the following hours of the day +Drag a ridiculous age. +To-day, when friends approach, and every hour +Brings book, or starbright scroll of genius, +The little cup will hold not a bead more, +And all the costly liquor runs to waste; +Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond drop +So to be husbanded for poorer days. +Why need I volumes, if one word suffice? +Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught +After the master's sketch fills and o'erfills +My apprehension? Why seek Italy, +Who cannot circumnavigate the sea +Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn +The nearest matters for a thousand days? + + + +BLIGHT + + Give me truths; +For I am weary of the surfaces, +And die of inanition. If I knew +Only the herbs and simples of the wood, +Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, +Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, +Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew, +And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods +Draw untold juices from the common earth, +Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell +Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply +By sweet affinities to human flesh, +Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,-- +O, that were much, and I could be a part +Of the round day, related to the sun +And planted world, and full executor +Of their imperfect functions. +But these young scholars, who invade our hills, +Bold as the engineer who fells the wood, +And travelling often in the cut he makes, +Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, +And all their botany is Latin names. +The old men studied magic in the flowers, +And human fortunes in astronomy, +And an omnipotence in chemistry, +Preferring things to names, for these were men, +Were unitarians of the united world, +And, wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell, +They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes +Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, +And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, +And strangers to the plant and to the mine. +The injured elements say, 'Not in us;' +And night and day, ocean and continent, +Fire, plant and mineral say, 'Not in us;' +And haughtily return us stare for stare. +For we invade them impiously for gain; +We devastate them unreligiously, +And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. +Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us +Only what to our griping toil is due; +But the sweet affluence of love and song, +The rich results of the divine consents +Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover, +The nectar and ambrosia, are withheld; +And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves +And pirates of the universe, shut out +Daily to a more thin and outward rind, +Turn pale and starve. Therefore, to our sick eyes, +The stunted trees look sick, the summer short, +Clouds shade the sun, which will not tan our hay, +And nothing thrives to reach its natural term; +And life, shorn of its venerable length, +Even at its greatest space is a defeat, +And dies in anger that it was a dupe; +And, in its highest noon and wantonness, +Is early frugal, like a beggar's child; +Even in the hot pursuit of the best aims +And prizes of ambition, checks its hand, +Like Alpine cataracts frozen as they leaped, +Chilled with a miserly comparison +Of the toy's purchase with the length of life. + + + +MUSKETAQUID + +Because I was content with these poor fields, +Low, open meads, slender and sluggish streams, +And found a home in haunts which others scorned, +The partial wood-gods overpaid my love, +And granted me the freedom of their state, +And in their secret senate have prevailed +With the dear, dangerous lords that rule our life, +Made moon and planets parties to their bond, +And through my rock-like, solitary wont +Shot million rays of thought and tenderness. +For me, in showers, in sweeping showers, the Spring +Visits the valley;--break away the clouds,-- +I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air, +And loiter willing by yon loitering stream. +Sparrows far off, and nearer, April's bird, +Blue-coated,--flying before from tree to tree, +Courageous sing a delicate overture +To lead the tardy concert of the year. +Onward and nearer rides the sun of May; +And wide around, the marriage of the plants +Is sweetly solemnized. Then flows amain +The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag, +Hollow and lake, hillside and pine arcade, +Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff +Has thousand faces in a thousand hours. + +Beneath low hills, in the broad interval +Through which at will our Indian rivulet +Winds mindful still of sannup and of squaw, +Whose pipe and arrow oft the plough unburies, +Here in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, +Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell. +Traveller, to thee, perchance, a tedious road, +Or, it may be, a picture; to these men, +The landscape is an armory of powers, +Which, one by one, they know to draw and use. +They harness beast, bird, insect, to their work; +They prove the virtues of each bed of rock, +And, like the chemist 'mid his loaded jars, +Draw from each stratum its adapted use +To drug their crops or weapon their arts withal. +They turn the frost upon their chemic heap, +They set the wind to winnow pulse and grain, +They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime, +And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow, +Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods +O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year, +They fight the elements with elements +(That one would say, meadow and forest walked, +Transmuted in these men to rule their like), +And by the order in the field disclose +The order regnant in the yeoman's brain. + +What these strong masters wrote at large in miles, +I followed in small copy in my acre; +For there's no rood has not a star above it; +The cordial quality of pear or plum +Ascends as gladly in a single tree +As in broad orchards resonant with bees; +And every atom poises for itself, +And for the whole. The gentle deities +Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds, +The innumerable tenements of beauty. +The miracle of generative force, +Far-reaching concords of astronomy +Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds; +Better, the linked purpose of the whole, +And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty +In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave. +The polite found me impolite; the great +Would mortify me, but in vain; for still +I am a willow of the wilderness, +Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts +My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk, +A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush, +A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine, +Salve my worst wounds. +For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear: +'Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie? +Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass +Into the winter night's extinguished mood? +Canst thou shine now, then darkle, +And being latent, feel thyself no less? +As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye, +The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure, +Yet envies none, none are unenviable.' + + + +DIRGE + +CONCORD, 1838 + + +I reached the middle of the mount + Up which the incarnate soul must climb, +And paused for them, and looked around, + With me who walked through space and time. + +Five rosy boys with morning light + Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, +Fronted the sun with hope as bright, + And greeted God with childhood's psalms. + +Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, +What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn? + +In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts; +I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts. + +The winding Concord gleamed below, + Pouring as wide a flood +As when my brothers, long ago, + Came with me to the wood. + +But they are gone,--the holy ones + Who trod with me this lovely vale; +The strong, star-bright companions + Are silent, low and pale. + +My good, my noble, in their prime, + Who made this world the feast it was +Who learned with me the lore of time, + Who loved this dwelling-place! + +They took this valley for their toy, + They played with it in every mood; +A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,-- + They treated Nature as they would. + +They colored the horizon round; + Stars flamed and faded as they bade, +All echoes hearkened for their sound,-- + They made the woodlands glad or mad. + +I touch this flower of silken leaf, + Which once our childhood knew; +Its soft leaves wound me with a grief + Whose balsam never grew. + +Hearken to yon pine-warbler + Singing aloft in the tree! +Hearest thou, O traveller, + What he singeth to me? + +Not unless God made sharp thine ear + With sorrow such as mine, +Out of that delicate lay could'st thou + Its heavy tale divine. + +'Go, lonely man,' it saith; + 'They loved thee from their birth; +Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,-- + There are no such hearts on earth. + +'Ye drew one mother's milk, + One chamber held ye all; +A very tender history + Did in your childhood fall. + +'You cannot unlock your heart, + The key is gone with them; +The silent organ loudest chants + The master's requiem.' + + + +THRENODY + +The South-wind brings +Life, sunshine and desire, +And on every mount and meadow +Breathes aromatic fire; +But over the dead he has no power, +The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; +And, looking over the hills, I mourn +The darling who shall not return. + +I see my empty house, +I see my trees repair their boughs; +And he, the wondrous child, +Whose silver warble wild +Outvalued every pulsing sound +Within the air's cerulean round,-- +The hyacinthine boy, for whom +Morn well might break and April bloom, +The gracious boy, who did adorn +The world whereinto he was born, +And by his countenance repay +The favor of the loving Day,-- +Has disappeared from the Day's eye; +Far and wide she cannot find him; +My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him. +Returned this day, the South-wind searches, +And finds young pines and budding birches; +But finds not the budding man; +Nature, who lost, cannot remake him; +Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him; +Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain. + +And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, +O, whither tend thy feet? +I had the right, few days ago, +Thy steps to watch, thy place to know: +How have I forfeited the right? +Hast thou forgot me in a new delight? +I hearken for thy household cheer, +O eloquent child! +Whose voice, an equal messenger, +Conveyed thy meaning mild. +What though the pains and joys +Whereof it spoke were toys +Fitting his age and ken, +Yet fairest dames and bearded men, +Who heard the sweet request, +So gentle, wise and grave, +Bended with joy to his behest +And let the world's affairs go by, +A while to share his cordial game, +Or mend his wicker wagon-frame, +Still plotting how their hungry fear +That winsome voice again might hear; +For his lips could well pronounce +Words that were persuasions. + +Gentlest guardians marked serene +His early hope, his liberal mien; +Took counsel from his guiding eyes +To make this wisdom earthly wise. +Ah, vainly do these eyes recall +The school-march, each day's festival, +When every morn my bosom glowed +To watch the convoy on the road; +The babe in willow wagon closed, +With rolling eyes and face composed; +With children forward and behind, +Like Cupids studiously inclined; +And he the chieftain paced beside, +The centre of the troop allied, +With sunny face of sweet repose, +To guard the babe from fancied foes. +The little captain innocent +Took the eye with him as he went; +Each village senior paused to scan +And speak the lovely caravan. +From the window I look out +To mark thy beautiful parade, +Stately marching in cap and coat +To some tune by fairies played;-- +A music heard by thee alone +To works as noble led thee on. + +Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, +Up and down their glances strain. +The painted sled stands where it stood; +The kennel by the corded wood; +His gathered sticks to stanch the wall +Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; +The ominous hole he dug in the sand, +And childhood's castles built or planned; +His daily haunts I well discern,-- +The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,-- +And every inch of garden ground +Paced by the blessed feet around, +From the roadside to the brook +Whereinto he loved to look. +Step the meek fowls where erst they ranged; +The wintry garden lies unchanged; +The brook into the stream runs on; +But the deep-eyed boy is gone. + +On that shaded day, +Dark with more clouds than tempests are, +When thou didst yield thy innocent breath +In birdlike heavings unto death, +Night came, and Nature had not thee; +I said, 'We are mates in misery.' +The morrow dawned with needless glow; +Each snowbird chirped, each fowl must crow; +Each tramper started; but the feet +Of the most beautiful and sweet +Of human youth had left the hill +And garden,--they were bound and still. +There's not a sparrow or a wren, +There's not a blade of autumn grain, +Which the four seasons do not tend +And tides of life and increase lend; +And every chick of every bird, +And weed and rock-moss is preferred. +O ostrich-like forgetfulness! +O loss of larger in the less! +Was there no star that could be sent, +No watcher in the firmament, +No angel from the countless host +That loiters round the crystal coast, +Could stoop to heal that only child, +Nature's sweet marvel undefiled, +And keep the blossom of the earth, +Which all her harvests were not worth? +Not mine,--I never called thee mine, +But Nature's heir,--if I repine, +And seeing rashly torn and moved +Not what I made, but what I loved, +Grow early old with grief that thou +Must to the wastes of Nature go,-- +'T is because a general hope +Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope. +For flattering planets seemed to say +This child should ills of ages stay, +By wondrous tongue, and guided pen, +Bring the flown Muses back to men. +Perchance not he but Nature ailed, +The world and not the infant failed. +It was not ripe yet to sustain +A genius of so fine a strain, +Who gazed upon the sun and moon +As if he came unto his own, +And, pregnant with his grander thought, +Brought the old order into doubt. +His beauty once their beauty tried; +They could not feed him, and he died, +And wandered backward as in scorn, +To wait an aeon to be born. +Ill day which made this beauty waste, +Plight broken, this high face defaced! +Some went and came about the dead; +And some in books of solace read; +Some to their friends the tidings say; +Some went to write, some went to pray; +One tarried here, there hurried one; +But their heart abode with none. +Covetous death bereaved us all, +To aggrandize one funeral. +The eager fate which carried thee +Took the largest part of me: +For this losing is true dying; +This is lordly man's down-lying, +This his slow but sure reclining, +Star by star his world resigning. + +O child of paradise, +Boy who made dear his father's home, +In whose deep eyes +Men read the welfare of the times to come, +I am too much bereft. +The world dishonored thou hast left. +O truth's and nature's costly lie! +O trusted broken prophecy! +O richest fortune sourly crossed! +Born for the future, to the future lost! + +The deep Heart answered, 'Weepest thou? +Worthier cause for passion wild +If I had not taken the child. +And deemest thou as those who pore, +With aged eyes, short way before,-- +Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast +Of matter, and thy darling lost? +Taught he not thee--the man of eld, +Whose eyes within his eyes beheld +Heaven's numerous hierarchy span +The mystic gulf from God to man? +To be alone wilt thou begin +When worlds of lovers hem thee in? +To-morrow, when the masks shall fall +That dizen Nature's carnival, +The pure shall see by their own will, +Which overflowing Love shall fill, +'T is not within the force of fate +The fate-conjoined to separate. +But thou, my votary, weepest thou? +I gave thee sight--where is it now? +I taught thy heart beyond the reach +Of ritual, bible, or of speech; +Wrote in thy mind's transparent table, +As far as the incommunicable; +Taught thee each private sign to raise +Lit by the supersolar blaze. +Past utterance, and past belief, +And past the blasphemy of grief, +The mysteries of Nature's heart; +And though no Muse can these impart, +Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, +And all is clear from east to west. + +'I came to thee as to a friend; +Dearest, to thee I did not send +Tutors, but a joyful eye, +Innocence that matched the sky, +Lovely locks, a form of wonder, +Laughter rich as woodland thunder, +That thou might'st entertain apart +The richest flowering of all art: +And, as the great all-loving Day +Through smallest chambers takes its way, +That thou might'st break thy daily bread +With prophet, savior and head; +That thou might'st cherish for thine own +The riches of sweet Mary's Son, +Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon. +And thoughtest thou such guest +Would in thy hall take up his rest? +Would rushing life forget her laws, +Fate's glowing revolution pause? +High omens ask diviner guess; +Not to be conned to tediousness +And know my higher gifts unbind +The zone that girds the incarnate mind. +When the scanty shores are full +With Thought's perilous, whirling pool; +When frail Nature can no more, +Then the Spirit strikes the hour: +My servant Death, with solving rite, +Pours finite into infinite. +Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow, +Whose streams through Nature circling go? +Nail the wild star to its track +On the half-climbed zodiac? +Light is light which radiates, +Blood is blood which circulates, +Life is life which generates, +And many-seeming life is one,-- +Wilt thou transfix and make it none? +Its onward force too starkly pent +In figure, bone and lineament? +Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, +Talker! the unreplying Fate? +Nor see the genius of the whole +Ascendant in the private soul, +Beckon it when to go and come, +Self-announced its hour of doom? +Fair the soul's recess and shrine, +Magic-built to last a season; +Masterpiece of love benign, +Fairer that expansive reason +Whose omen 'tis, and sign. +Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know +What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? +Verdict which accumulates +From lengthening scroll of human fates, +Voice of earth to earth returned, +Prayers of saints that inly burned,-- +Saying, _What is excellent,_ +_As God lives, is permanent;_ +_Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;_ +_Heart's love will meet thee again._ +Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye +Up to his style, and manners of the sky. +Not of adamant and gold +Built he heaven stark and cold; +No, but a nest of bending reeds, +Flowering grass and scented weeds; +Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, +Or bow above the tempest bent; +Built of tears and sacred flames, +And virtue reaching to its aims; +Built of furtherance and pursuing, +Not of spent deeds, but of doing. +Silent rushes the swift Lord +Through ruined systems still restored, +Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, +Plants with worlds the wilderness; +Waters with tears of ancient sorrow +Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. +House and tenant go to ground, +Lost in God, in Godhead found.' + + + +CONCORD HYMN + +SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE +MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837 + +By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, +Here once the embattled farmers stood + And fired the shot heard round the world. + +The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; +And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + +On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; +That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + +Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, +Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and thee. + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + + * * * * * + + + +MAY-DAY + +Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, +With sudden passion languishing, +Teaching Barren moors to smile, +Painting pictures mile on mile, +Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, +Whence a smokeless incense breathes. +The air is full of whistlings bland; +What was that I heard +Out of the hazy land? +Harp of the wind, or song of bird, +Or vagrant booming of the air, +Voice of a meteor lost in day? +Such tidings of the starry sphere +Can this elastic air convey. +Or haply 'twas the cannonade +Of the pent and darkened lake, +Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade, +Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break, +Afflicted moan, and latest hold +Even into May the iceberg cold. +Was it a squirrel's pettish bark, +Or clarionet of jay? or hark +Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, +Steering north with raucous cry +Through tracts and provinces of sky, +Every night alighting down +In new landscapes of romance, +Where darkling feed the clamorous clans +By lonely lakes to men unknown. +Come the tumult whence it will, +Voice of sport, or rush of wings, +It is a sound, it is a token +That the marble sleep is broken, +And a change has passed on things. + + When late I walked, in earlier days, +All was stiff and stark; +Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, +In the sky no spark; +Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, +Struggling through the drifted roads; +The whited desert knew me not, +Snow-ridges masked each darling spot; +The summer dells, by genius haunted, +One arctic moon had disenchanted. +All the sweet secrets therein hid +By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. +Eldest mason, Frost, had piled +Swift cathedrals in the wild; +The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts +In the star-lit minster aisled. +I found no joy: the icy wind +Might rule the forest to his mind. +Who would freeze on frozen lakes? +Back to books and sheltered home, +And wood-fire flickering on the walls, +To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games, +Without the baffled North-wind calls. +But soft! a sultry morning breaks; +The ground-pines wash their rusty green, +The maple-tops their crimson tint, +On the soft path each track is seen, +The girl's foot leaves its neater print. +The pebble loosened from the frost +Asks of the urchin to be tost. +In flint and marble beats a heart, +The kind Earth takes her children's part, +The green lane is the school-boy's friend, +Low leaves his quarrel apprehend, +The fresh ground loves his top and ball, +The air rings jocund to his call, +The brimming brook invites a leap, +He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. +The youth sees omens where he goes, +And speaks all languages the rose, +The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice +The far halloo of human voice; +The perfumed berry on the spray +Smacks of faint memories far away. +A subtle chain of countless rings +The next into the farthest brings, +And, striving to be man, the worm +Mounts through all the spires of form. + + The caged linnet in the Spring +Hearkens for the choral glee, +When his fellows on the wing +Migrate from the Southern Sea; +When trellised grapes their flowers unmask, +And the new-born tendrils twine, +The old wine darkling in the cask +Feels the bloom on the living vine, +And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: +And so, perchance, in Adam's race, +Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace +Survived the Flight and swam the Flood, +And wakes the wish in youngest blood +To tread the forfeit Paradise, +And feed once more the exile's eyes; +And ever when the happy child +In May beholds the blooming wild, +And hears in heaven the bluebird sing, +'Onward,' he cries, 'your baskets bring,-- +In the next field is air more mild, +And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier spring.' + + Not for a regiment's parade, +Nor evil laws or rulers made, +Blue Walden rolls its cannonade, +But for a lofty sign +Which the Zodiac threw, +That the bondage-days are told. +And waters free as winds shall flow. +Lo! how all the tribes combine +To rout the flying foe. +See, every patriot oak-leaf throws +His elfin length upon the snows, +Not idle, since the leaf all day +Draws to the spot the solar ray, +Ere sunset quarrying inches down, +And halfway to the mosses brown; +While the grass beneath the rime +Has hints of the propitious time, +And upward pries and perforates +Through the cold slab a thousand gates, +Till green lances peering through +Bend happy in the welkin blue. + + As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, +So Spring will not her time forerun, +Mix polar night with tropic glow, +Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, +Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, +But she has the temperance +Of the gods, whereof she is one,-- +Masks her treasury of heat +Under east winds crossed with sleet. +Plants and birds and humble creatures +Well accept her rule austere; +Titan-born, to hardy natures +Cold is genial and dear. +As Southern wrath to Northern right +Is but straw to anthracite; +As in the day of sacrifice, +When heroes piled the pyre, +The dismal Massachusetts ice +Burned more than others' fire, +So Spring guards with surface cold +The garnered heat of ages old. +Hers to sow the seed of bread, +That man and all the kinds be fed; +And, when the sunlight fills the hours, +Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers. + + Beneath the calm, within the light, +A hid unruly appetite +Of swifter life, a surer hope, +Strains every sense to larger scope, +Impatient to anticipate +The halting steps of aged Fate. +Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl: +When Nature falters, fain would zeal +Grasp the felloes of her wheel, +And grasping give the orbs another whirl. +Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball! +And sun this frozen side. +Bring hither back the robin's call, +Bring back the tulip's pride. + + Why chidest thou the tardy Spring? +The hardy bunting does not chide; +The blackbirds make the maples ring +With social cheer and jubilee; +The redwing flutes his _o-ka-lee_, +The robins know the melting snow; +The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed, +Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves, +Secure the osier yet will hide +Her callow brood in mantling leaves,-- +And thou, by science all undone, +Why only must thy reason fail +To see the southing of the sun? + + The world rolls round,--mistrust it not,-- +Befalls again what once befell; +All things return, both sphere and mote, +And I shall hear my bluebird's note, +And dream the dream of Auburn dell. + + April cold with dropping rain +Willows and lilacs brings again, +The whistle of returning birds, +And trumpet-lowing of the herds. +The scarlet maple-keys betray +What potent blood hath modest May, +What fiery force the earth renews, +The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; +What joy in rosy waves outpoured +Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. + + Hither rolls the storm of heat; +I feel its finer billows beat +Like a sea which me infolds; +Heat with viewless fingers moulds, +Swells, and mellows, and matures, +Paints, and flavors, and allures, +Bird and brier inly warms, +Still enriches and transforms, +Gives the reed and lily length, +Adds to oak and oxen strength, +Transforming what it doth infold, +Life out of death, new out of old, +Painting fawns' and leopards' fells, +Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells, +Fires gardens with a joyful blaze +Of tulips, in the morning's rays. +The dead log touched bursts into leaf, +The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf. +What god is this imperial Heat, +Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat? +Doth it bear hidden in its heart +Water-line patterns of all art? +Is it Daedalus? is it Love? +Or walks in mask almighty Jove, +And drops from Power's redundant horn +All seeds of beauty to be born? + + Where shall we keep the holiday, +And duly greet the entering May? +Too strait and low our cottage doors, +And all unmeet our carpet floors; +Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, +Suffice to hold the festival. +Up and away! where haughty woods +Front the liberated floods: +We will climb the broad-backed hills, +Hear the uproar of their joy; +We will mark the leaps and gleams +Of the new-delivered streams, +And the murmuring rivers of sap +Mount in the pipes of the trees, +Giddy with day, to the topmost spire, +Which for a spike of tender green +Bartered its powdery cap; +And the colors of joy in the bird, +And the love in its carol heard, +Frog and lizard in holiday coats, +And turtle brave in his golden spots; +While cheerful cries of crag and plain +Reply to the thunder of river and main. + + As poured the flood of the ancient sea +Spilling over mountain chains, +Bending forests as bends the sedge, +Faster flowing o'er the plains,-- +A world-wide wave with a foaming edge +That rims the running silver sheet,-- +So pours the deluge of the heat +Broad northward o'er the land, +Painting artless paradises, +Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, +Fanning secret fires which glow +In columbine and clover-blow, +Climbing the northern zones, +Where a thousand pallid towns +Lie like cockles by the main, +Or tented armies on a plain. +The million-handed sculptor moulds +Quaintest bud and blossom folds, +The million-handed painter pours +Opal hues and purple dye; +Azaleas flush the island floors, +And the tints of heaven reply. + + Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring +To-day shall all her dowry bring, +The love of kind, the joy, the grace, +Hymen of element and race, +Knowing well to celebrate +With song and hue and star and state, +With tender light and youthful cheer, +The spousals of the new-born year. + + Spring is strong and virtuous, +Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, +Quickening underneath the mould +Grains beyond the price of gold. +So deep and large her bounties are, +That one broad, long midsummer day +Shall to the planet overpay +The ravage of a year of war. + + Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, +And send the nectar round; +The feet that slid so long on sleet +Are glad to feel the ground. +Fill and saturate each kind +With good according to its mind, +Fill each kind and saturate +With good agreeing with its fate, +And soft perfection of its plan-- +Willow and violet, maiden and man. + + The bitter-sweet, the haunting air +Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; +It preys on all, all prey on it. +Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, +Stings the strong with enterprise, +Makes travellers long for Indian skies, +And where it comes this courier fleet +Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, +As if to-morrow should redeem +The vanished rose of evening's dream. +By houses lies a fresher green, +On men and maids a ruddier mien, +As if Time brought a new relay +Of shining virgins every May, +And Summer came to ripen maids +To a beauty that not fades. + + I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth, +Stepping daily onward north +To greet staid ancient cavaliers +Filing single in stately train. +And who, and who are the travellers? +They were Night and Day, and Day and Night, +Pilgrims wight with step forthright. +I saw the Days deformed and low, +Short and bent by cold and snow; +The merry Spring threw wreaths on them, +Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell; +Many a flower and many a gem, +They were refreshed by the smell, +They shook the snow from hats and shoon, +They put their April raiment on; +And those eternal forms, +Unhurt by a thousand storms, +Shot up to the height of the sky again, +And danced as merrily as young men. +I saw them mask their awful glance +Sidewise meek in gossamer lids; +And to speak my thought if none forbids +It was as if the eternal gods, +Tired of their starry periods, +Hid their majesty in cloth +Woven of tulips and painted moth. +On carpets green the maskers march +Below May's well-appointed arch, +Each star, each god; each grace amain, +Every joy and virtue speed, +Marching duly in her train, +And fainting Nature at her need +Is made whole again. + + 'Twas the vintage-day of field and wood, +When magic wine for bards is brewed; +Every tree and stem and chink +Gushed with syrup to the brink. +The air stole into the streets of towns, +Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns, +And betrayed the fund of joy +To the high-school and medalled boy: +On from hall to chamber ran, +From youth to maid, from boy to man, +To babes, and to old eyes as well. +'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds, +Airy turrets purple-piled, +Which once my infancy beguiled, +Beguile me with the wonted spell. +I know ye skilful to convoy +The total freight of hope and joy +Into rude and homely nooks, +Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books, +On farmer's byre, on pasture rude, +And stony pathway to the wood. +I care not if the pomps you show +Be what they soothfast appear, +Or if yon realms in sunset glow +Be bubbles of the atmosphere. +And if it be to you allowed +To fool me with a shining cloud, +So only new griefs are consoled +By new delights, as old by old, +Frankly I will be your guest, +Count your change and cheer the best. +The world hath overmuch of pain,-- +If Nature give me joy again, +Of such deceit I'll not complain.' + + Ah! well I mind the calendar, +Faithful through a thousand years, +Of the painted race of flowers, +Exact to days, exact to hours, +Counted on the spacious dial +Yon broidered zodiac girds. +I know the trusty almanac +Of the punctual coming-back, +On their due days, of the birds. +I marked them yestermorn, +A flock of finches darting +Beneath the crystal arch, +Piping, as they flew, a march,-- +Belike the one they used in parting +Last year from yon oak or larch; +Dusky sparrows in a crowd, +Diving, darting northward free, +Suddenly betook them all, +Every one to his hole in the wall, +Or to his niche in the apple-tree. +I greet with joy the choral trains +Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. +Best gems of Nature's cabinet, +With dews of tropic morning wet, +Beloved of children, bards and Spring, +O birds, your perfect virtues bring, +Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, +Your manners for the heart's delight, +Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, +Here weave your chamber weather-proof, +Forgive our harms, and condescend +To man, as to a lubber friend, +And, generous, teach his awkward race +Courage and probity and grace! + + Poets praise that hidden wine +Hid in milk we drew +At the barrier of Time, +When our life was new. +We had eaten fairy fruit, +We were quick from head to foot, +All the forms we looked on shone +As with diamond dews thereon. +What cared we for costly joys, +The Museum's far-fetched toys? +Gleam of sunshine on the wall +Poured a deeper cheer than all +The revels of the Carnival. +We a pine-grove did prefer +To a marble theatre, +Could with gods on mallows dine, +Nor cared for spices or for wine. +Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned. +Arch on arch, the grimmest land; +Whittle of a woodland bird +Made the pulses dance, +Note of horn in valleys heard +Filled the region with romance. + + None can tell how sweet, +How virtuous, the morning air; +Every accent vibrates well; +Not alone the wood-bird's call, +Or shouting boys that chase their ball, +Pass the height of minstrel skill, +But the ploughman's thoughtless cry, +Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat, +And the joiner's hammer-beat, +Softened are above their will, +Take tones from groves they wandered through +Or flutes which passing angels blew. +All grating discords melt, +No dissonant note is dealt, +And though thy voice be shrill +Like rasping file on steel, +Such is the temper of the air, +Echo waits with art and care, +And will the faults of song repair. + + So by remote Superior Lake, +And by resounding Mackinac, +When northern storms the forest shake, +And billows on the long beach break, +The artful Air will separate +Note by note all sounds that grate, +Smothering in her ample breast +All but godlike words, +Reporting to the happy ear +Only purified accords. +Strangely wrought from barking waves, +Soft music daunts the Indian braves,-- +Convent-chanting which the child +Hears pealing from the panther's cave +And the impenetrable wild. + + Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze: +So on thy broad mystic van +Lie the opal-colored days, +And waft the miracle to man. +Soothsayer of the eldest gods, +Repairer of what harms betide, +Revealer of the inmost powers +Prometheus proffered, Jove denied; +Disclosing treasures more than true, +Or in what far to-morrow due; +Speaking by the tongues of flowers, +By the ten-tongued laurel speaking, +Singing by the oriole songs, +Heart of bird the man's heart seeking; +Whispering hints of treasure hid +Under Morn's unlifted lid, +Islands looming just beyond +The dim horizon's utmost bound;-- +Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid, +Or taunt us with our hope decayed? +Or who like thee persuade, +Making the splendor of the air, +The morn and sparkling dew, a snare? +Or who resent +Thy genius, wiles and blandishment? + + There is no orator prevails +To beckon or persuade +Like thee the youth or maid: +Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales, +Thy blooms, thy kinds, +Thy echoes in the wilderness, +Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress, +Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds. + + For thou, O Spring! canst renovate +All that high God did first create. +Be still his arm and architect, +Rebuild the ruin, mend defect; +Chemist to vamp old worlds with new, +Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue, +New tint the plumage of the birds, +And slough decay from grazing herds, +Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain, +Cleanse the torrent at the fountain, +Purge alpine air by towns defiled, +Bring to fair mother fairer child, +Not less renew the heart and brain, +Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain, +Make the aged eye sun-clear, +To parting soul bring grandeur near. +Under gentle types, my Spring +Masks the might of Nature's king, +An energy that searches thorough +From Chaos to the dawning morrow; +Into all our human plight, +The soul's pilgrimage and flight; +In city or in solitude, +Step by step, lifts bad to good, +Without halting, without rest, +Lifting Better up to Best; +Planting seeds of knowledge pure, +Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure. + + + +THE ADIRONDACS + +A JOURNAL + +DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858 + + Wise and polite,--and if I drew + Their several portraits, you would own + Chaucer had no such worthy crew, + Nor Boccace in Decameron. + +We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends, +Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks +Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach +The Adirondac lakes. At Martin's Beach +We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide,-- +Ten men, ten guides, our company all told. + + Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac, +With skies of benediction, to Round Lake, +Where all the sacred mountains drew around us, +Taháwus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead, +And other Titans without muse or name. +Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on, +Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills. +We made our distance wider, boat from boat, +As each would hear the oracle alone. +By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid +Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets, +Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel-flower, +Through scented banks of lilies white and gold, +Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day, +On through the Upper Saranac, and up +Père Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass +Winding through grassy shallows in and out, +Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge, +To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons. + + Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed, +Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge +Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore. +A pause and council: then, where near the head +Due east a bay makes inward to the land +Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank, +And in the twilight of the forest noon +Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard. +We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts, +Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof, +Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire. + + The wood was sovran with centennial trees,-- +Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir, +Linden and spruce. In strict society +Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine, +Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby, +Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth, +The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower. + + 'Welcome!' the wood-god murmured through the leaves,-- +'Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.' +Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs, +Which o'erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire. +Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks, +Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor. + + Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft +In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed, +Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux, +And greet unanimous the joyful change. +So fast will Nature acclimate her sons, +Though late returning to her pristine ways. +Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold; +And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned, +Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds. +Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air +That circled freshly in their forest dress +Made them to boys again. Happier that they +Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind, +At the first mounting of the giant stairs. +No placard on these rocks warned to the polls, +No door-bell heralded a visitor, +No courier waits, no letter came or went, +Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold; +The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop, +The falling rain will spoil no holiday. +We were made freemen of the forest laws, +All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends, +Essaying nothing she cannot perform. + + In Adirondac lakes +At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded: +Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make +His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain, +He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn: +A paddle in the right hand, or an oar, +And in the left, a gun, his needful arms. +By turns we praised the stature of our guides, +Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill +To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp, +To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs +Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down: +Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount, +And wit to trap or take him in his lair. +Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent, +In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides; +Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired +Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve. + + Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen! +No city airs or arts pass current here. +Your rank is all reversed; let men or cloth +Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls: +_They_ are the doctors of the wilderness, +And we the low-prized laymen. +In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test +Which few can put on with impunity. +What make you, master, fumbling at the oar? +Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here. +The sallow knows the basket-maker's thumb; +The oar, the guide's. Dare you accept the tasks +He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes, +Tell the sun's time, determine the true north, +Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods +To thread by night the nearest way to camp? + + Ask you, how went the hours? +All day we swept the lake, searched every cove, +North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay, +Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, +Or whipping its rough surface for a trout; +Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon; +Challenging Echo by our guns and cries; +Or listening to the laughter of the loon; +Or, in the evening twilight's latest red, +Beholding the procession of the pines; +Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, +In the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter +Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds +Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist. +Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods +Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck +Who stands astonished at the meteor light, +Then turns to bound away,--is it too late? + + Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark, +Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five; +Sometimes their wits at sally and retort, +With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; +Or parties scaled the near acclivities +Competing seekers of a rumored lake, +Whose unauthenticated waves we named +Lake Probability,--our carbuncle, +Long sought, not found. + + Two Doctors in the camp +Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout's brain, +Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew, +Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth; +Insatiate skill in water or in air +Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss; +The while, one leaden got of alcohol +Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds. +Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants, +Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus, +Rosy polygonum, lake-margin's pride, +Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss, +Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls. +Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed, +The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker +Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp. +As water poured through hollows of the hills +To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets, +So Nature shed all beauty lavishly +From her redundant horn. + + Lords of this realm, +Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day +Rounded by hours where each outdid the last +In miracles of pomp, we must be proud, +As if associates of the sylvan gods. +We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac, +So pure the Alpine element we breathed, +So light, so lofty pictures came and went. +We trode on air, contemned the distant town, +Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned +That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge +And how we should come hither with our sons, +Hereafter,--willing they, and more adroit. + + Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery,-- +The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito +Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands: +But, on the second day, we heed them not, +Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries, +Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names. +For who defends our leafy tabernacle +From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd,-- +Who but the midge, mosquito and the fly, +Which past endurance sting the tender cit, +But which we learn to scatter with a smudge, +Or baffle by a veil, or slight by scorn? + + Our foaming ale we drank from hunters' pans, +Ale, and a sup of wine. Our steward gave +Venison and trout, potatoes, beans, wheat-bread; +All ate like abbots, and, if any missed +Their wonted convenance, cheerly hid the loss +With hunters' appetite and peals of mirth. +And Stillman, our guides' guide, and Commodore, +Crusoe, Crusader, Pius Aeneas, said aloud, +"Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating +Food indigestible":--then murmured some, +Others applauded him who spoke the truth. + + Nor doubt but visitings of graver thought +Checked in these souls the turbulent heyday +'Mid all the hints and glories of the home. +For who can tell what sudden privacies +Were sought and found, amid the hue and cry +Of scholars furloughed from their tasks and let +Into this Oreads' fended Paradise, +As chapels in the city's thoroughfares, +Whither gaunt Labor slips to wipe his brow +And meditate a moment on Heaven's rest. +Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke +To each apart, lifting her lovely shows +To spiritual lessons pointed home, +And as through dreams in watches of the night, +So through all creatures in their form and ways +Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant, +Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense +Inviting to new knowledge, one with old. +Hark to that petulant chirp! what ails the warbler? +Mark his capricious ways to draw the eye. +Now soar again. What wilt thou, restless bird, +Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light, +Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky? + + And presently the sky is changed; O world! +What pictures and what harmonies are thine! +The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, +So like the soul of me, what if 't were me? +A melancholy better than all mirth. +Comes the sweet sadness at the retrospect, +Or at the foresight of obscurer years? +Like yon slow-sailing cloudy promontory +Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty +Superior to all its gaudy skirts. +And, that no day of life may lack romance, +The spiritual stars rise nightly, shedding down +A private beam into each several heart. +Daily the bending skies solicit man, +The seasons chariot him from this exile, +The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing chair, +The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, +Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights +Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home. + + With a vermilion pencil mark the day +When of our little fleet three cruising skiffs +Entering Big Tupper, bound for the foaming Falls +Of loud Bog River, suddenly confront +Two of our mates returning with swift oars. +One held a printed journal waving high +Caught from a late-arriving traveller, +Big with great news, and shouted the report +For which the world had waited, now firm fact, +Of the wire-cable laid beneath the sea, +And landed on our coast, and pulsating +With ductile fire. Loud, exulting cries +From boat to boat, and to the echoes round, +Greet the glad miracle. Thought's new-found path +Shall supplement henceforth all trodden ways, +Match God's equator with a zone of art, +And lift man's public action to a height +Worthy the enormous cloud of witnesses, +When linkèd hemispheres attest his deed. +We have few moments in the longest life +Of such delight and wonder as there grew,-- +Nor yet unsuited to that solitude: +A burst of joy, as if we told the fact +To ears intelligent; as if gray rock +And cedar grove and cliff and lake should know +This feat of wit, this triumph of mankind; +As if we men were talking in a vein +Of sympathy so large, that ours was theirs, +And a prime end of the most subtle element +Were fairly reached at last. Wake, echoing caves! +Bend nearer, faint day-moon! Yon thundertops, +Let them hear well! 'tis theirs as much as ours. + + A spasm throbbing through the pedestals +Of Alp and Andes, isle and continent, +Urging astonished Chaos with a thrill +To be a brain, or serve the brain of man. +The lightning has run masterless too long; +He must to school and learn his verb and noun +And teach his nimbleness to earn his wage, +Spelling with guided tongue man's messages +Shot through the weltering pit of the salt sea. +And yet I marked, even in the manly joy +Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat +(Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent; +Or was it for mankind a generous shame, +As of a luck not quite legitimate, +Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? +Was it a college pique of town and gown, +As one within whose memory it burned +That not academicians, but some lout, +Found ten years since the Californian gold? +And now, again, a hungry company +Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, +Perversely borrowing from the shop the tools +Of science, not from the philosophers, +Had won the brightest laurel of all time. +'Twas always thus, and will be; hand and head +Are ever rivals: but, though this be swift, +The other slow,--this the Prometheus, +And that the Jove,--yet, howsoever hid, +It was from Jove the other stole his fire, +And, without Jove, the good had never been. +It is not Iroquois or cannibals, +But ever the free race with front sublime, +And these instructed by their wisest too, +Who do the feat, and lift humanity. +Let not him mourn who best entitled was, +Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, +Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, +And water it with wine, nor watch askance +Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: +Enough that mankind eat and are refreshed. + + We flee away from cities, but we bring +The best of cities with us, these learned classifiers, +Men knowing what they seek, armed eyes of experts. +We praise the guide, we praise the forest life: +But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore +Of books and arts and trained experiment, +Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? +O no, not we! Witness the shout that shook +Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail +The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge +Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears +From a log cabin stream Beethoven's notes +On the piano, played with master's hand. +'Well done!' he cries; 'the bear is kept at bay, +The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; +All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, +This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, +This wild plantation will suffice to chase. +Now speed the gay celerities of art, +What in the desert was impossible +Within four walls is possible again,-- +Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill, +Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife +Of keen competing youths, joined or alone +To outdo each other and extort applause. +Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. +Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again, +On for a thousand years of genius more.' + + The holidays were fruitful, but must end; +One August evening had a cooler breath; +Into each mind intruding duties crept; +Under the cinders burned the fires of home; +Nay, letters found us in our paradise: +So in the gladness of the new event +We struck our camp and left the happy hills. +The fortunate star that rose on us sank not; +The prodigal sunshine rested on the land, +The rivers gambolled onward to the sea, +And Nature, the inscrutable and mute, +Permitted on her infinite repose +Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, +As if one riddle of the Sphinx were guessed. + + + +BRAHMA + +If the red slayer think he slays, + Or if the slain think he is slain, +They know not well the subtle ways + I keep, and pass, and turn again. + +Far or forgot to me is near; + Shadow and sunlight are the same; +The vanished gods to me appear; + And one to me are shame and fame. + +They reckon ill who leave me out; + When me they fly, I am the wings; +I am the doubter and the doubt, + And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. + +The strong gods pine for my abode, + And pine in vain the sacred Seven; +But thou, meek lover of the good! + Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. + + + +NEMESIS + +Already blushes on thy cheek +The bosom thought which thou must speak; +The bird, how far it haply roam +By cloud or isle, is flying home; +The maiden fears, and fearing runs +Into the charmed snare she shuns; +And every man, in love or pride, +Of his fate is never wide. + +Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth? +Or prayers the stony Parcae soothe, +Or coax the thunder from its mark? +Or tapers light the chaos dark? +In spite of Virtue and the Muse, +Nemesis will have her dues, +And all our struggles and our toils +Tighter wind the giant coils. + + + +FATE + +Deep in the man sits fast his fate +To mould his fortunes, mean or great: +Unknown to Cromwell as to me +Was Cromwell's measure or degree; +Unknown to him as to his horse, +If he than his groom be better or worse. +He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, +With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, +Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, +Broad England harbored not his peer: +Obeying time, the last to own +The Genius from its cloudy throne. +For the prevision is allied +Unto the thing so signified; +Or say, the foresight that awaits +Is the same Genius that creates. + + + +FREEDOM + +Once I wished I might rehearse +Freedom's paean in my verse, +That the slave who caught the strain +Should throb until he snapped his chain, +But the Spirit said, 'Not so; +Speak it not, or speak it low; +Name not lightly to be said, +Gift too precious to be prayed, +Passion not to be expressed +But by heaving of the breast: +Yet,--wouldst thou the mountain find +Where this deity is shrined, +Who gives to seas and sunset skies +Their unspent beauty of surprise, +And, when it lists him, waken can +Brute or savage into man; +Or, if in thy heart he shine, +Blends the starry fates with thine, +Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, +And makes thy thoughts archangels be; +Freedom's secret wilt thou know?-- +Counsel not with flesh and blood; +Loiter not for cloak or food; +Right thou feelest, rush to do.' + + + +ODE + +SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 + +O tenderly the haughty day + Fills his blue urn with fire; +One morn is in the mighty heaven, + And one in our desire. + +The cannon booms from town to town, + Our pulses beat not less, +The joy-bells chime their tidings down, + Which children's voices bless. + +For He that flung the broad blue fold + O'er-mantling land and sea, +One third part of the sky unrolled + For the banner of the free. + +The men are ripe of Saxon kind + To build an equal state,-- +To take the statute from the mind + And make of duty fate. + +United States! the ages plead,-- + Present and Past in under-song,-- +Go put your creed into your deed, + Nor speak with double tongue. + +For sea and land don't understand, + Nor skies without a frown +See rights for which the one hand fights + By the other cloven down. + +Be just at home; then write your scroll + Of honor o'er the sea, +And bid the broad Atlantic roll, + A ferry of the free. + +And henceforth there shall be no chain, + Save underneath the sea +The wires shall murmur through the main + Sweet songs of liberty. + +The conscious stars accord above, + The waters wild below, +And under, through the cable wove, + Her fiery errands go. + +For He that worketh high and wise. + Nor pauses in his plan, +Will take the sun out of the skies + Ere freedom out of man. + + + +BOSTON HYMN + +READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863 + +The word of the Lord by night +To the watching Pilgrims came, +As they sat by the seaside, +And filled their hearts with flame. + +God said, I am tired of kings, +I suffer them no more; +Up to my ear the morning brings +The outrage of the poor. + +Think ye I made this ball +A field of havoc and war, +Where tyrants great and tyrants small +Might harry the weak and poor? + +My angel,--his name is Freedom,-- +Choose him to be your king; +He shall cut pathways east and west +And fend you with his wing. + +Lo! I uncover the land +Which I hid of old time in the West, +As the sculptor uncovers the statue +When he has wrought his best; + +I show Columbia, of the rocks +Which dip their foot in the seas +And soar to the air-borne flocks +Of clouds and the boreal fleece. + +I will divide my goods; +Call in the wretch and slave: +None shall rule but the humble. +And none but Toil shall have. + +I will have never a noble, +No lineage counted great; +Fishers and choppers and ploughmen +Shall constitute a state. + +Go, cut down trees in the forest +And trim the straightest boughs; +Cut down trees in the forest +And build me a wooden house. + +Call the people together, +The young men and the sires, +The digger in the harvest-field, +Hireling and him that hires; + +And here in a pine state-house +They shall choose men to rule +In every needful faculty, +In church and state and school. + +Lo, now! if these poor men +Can govern the land and sea +And make just laws below the sun, +As planets faithful be. + +And ye shall succor men; +'Tis nobleness to serve; +Help them who cannot help again: +Beware from right to swerve. + +I break your bonds and masterships, +And I unchain the slave: +Free be his heart and hand henceforth +As wind and wandering wave. + +I cause from every creature +His proper good to flow: +As much as he is and doeth, +So much he shall bestow. + +But, laying hands on another +To coin his labor and sweat, +He goes in pawn to his victim +For eternal years in debt. + +To-day unbind the captive, +So only are ye unbound; +Lift up a people from the dust, +Trump of their rescue, sound! + +Pay ransom to the owner +And fill the bag to the brim. +Who is the owner? The slave is owner, +And ever was. Pay him. + +O North! give him beauty for rags, +And honor, O South! for his shame; +Nevada! coin thy golden crags +With Freedom's image and name. + +Up! and the dusky race +That sat in darkness long,-- +Be swift their feet as antelopes. +And as behemoth strong. + +Come, East and West and North, +By races, as snow-flakes, +And carry my purpose forth, +Which neither halts nor shakes. + +My will fulfilled shall be, +For, in daylight or in dark, +My thunderbolt has eyes to see +His way home to the mark. + + + +VOLUNTARIES + +I + +Low and mournful be the strain, +Haughty thought be far from me; +Tones of penitence and pain, +Meanings of the tropic sea; +Low and tender in the cell +Where a captive sits in chains. +Crooning ditties treasured well +From his Afric's torrid plains. +Sole estate his sire bequeathed,-- +Hapless sire to hapless son,-- +Was the wailing song he breathed, +And his chain when life was done. + + What his fault, or what his crime? +Or what ill planet crossed his prime? +Heart too soft and will too weak +To front the fate that crouches near,-- +Dove beneath the vulture's beak;-- +Will song dissuade the thirsty spear? +Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, +Displaced, disfurnished here, +His wistful toil to do his best +Chilled by a ribald jeer. +Great men in the Senate sate, +Sage and hero, side by side, +Building for their sons the State, +Which they shall rule with pride. +They forbore to break the chain +Which bound the dusky tribe, +Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, +Lured by 'Union' as the bribe. +Destiny sat by, and said, +'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, +Hide in false peace your coward head, +I bring round the harvest day.' + +II + +Freedom all winged expands, +Nor perches in a narrow place; +Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; +She loves a poor and virtuous race. +Clinging to a colder zone +Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, +The snowflake is her banner's star, +Her stripes the boreal streamers are. +Long she loved the Northman well; +Now the iron age is done, +She will not refuse to dwell +With the offspring of the Sun; +Foundling of the desert far, +Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, +He roves unhurt the burning ways +In climates of the summer star. +He has avenues to God +Hid from men of Northern brain, +Far beholding, without cloud, +What these with slowest steps attain. +If once the generous chief arrive +To lead him willing to be led, +For freedom he will strike and strive, +And drain his heart till he be dead. + +III + +In an age of fops and toys, +Wanting wisdom, void of right, +Who shall nerve heroic boys +To hazard all in Freedom's fight,-- +Break sharply off their jolly games, +Forsake their comrades gay +And quit proud homes and youthful dames +For famine, toil and fray? +Yet on the nimble air benign +Speed nimbler messages, +That waft the breath of grace divine +To hearts in sloth and ease. +So nigh is grandeur to our dust, +So near is God to man, +When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_, +The youth replies, _I can_. + +IV + +O, well for the fortunate soul +Which Music's wings infold, +Stealing away the memory +Of sorrows new and old! +Yet happier he whose inward sight, +Stayed on his subtile thought, +Shuts his sense on toys of time, +To vacant bosoms brought. +But best befriended of the God +He who, in evil times, +Warned by an inward voice, +Heeds not the darkness and the dread, +Biding by his rule and choice, +Feeling only the fiery thread +Leading over heroic ground, +Walled with mortal terror round, +To the aim which him allures, +And the sweet heaven his deed secures. +Peril around, all else appalling, +Cannon in front and leaden rain +Him duty through the clarion calling +To the van called not in vain. + + Stainless soldier on the walls, +Knowing this,--and knows no more,-- +Whoever fights, whoever falls, +Justice conquers evermore, +Justice after as before,-- +And he who battles on her side, +God, though he were ten times slain, +Crowns him victor glorified, +Victor over death and pain. + +V + +Blooms the laurel which belongs +To the valiant chief who fights; +I see the wreath, I hear the songs +Lauding the Eternal Rights, +Victors over daily wrongs: +Awful victors, they misguide +Whom they will destroy, +And their coming triumph hide +In our downfall, or our joy: +They reach no term, they never sleep, +In equal strength through space abide; +Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, +The strong they slay, the swift outstride: +Fate's grass grows rank in valley clods, +And rankly on the castled steep,-- +Speak it firmly, these are gods, +All are ghosts beside. + + + +LOVE AND THOUGHT + +Two well-assorted travellers use +The highway, Eros and the Muse. +From the twins is nothing hidden, +To the pair is nought forbidden; +Hand in hand the comrades go +Every nook of Nature through: +Each for other they were born, +Each can other best adorn; +They know one only mortal grief +Past all balsam or relief; +When, by false companions crossed, +The pilgrims have each other lost. + + + +UNA + +Roving, roving, as it seems, +Una lights my clouded dreams; +Still for journeys she is dressed; +We wander far by east and west. + +In the homestead, homely thought, +At my work I ramble not; +If from home chance draw me wide, +Half-seen Una sits beside. + +In my house and garden-plot, +Though beloved, I miss her not; +But one I seek in foreign places, +One face explore in foreign faces. + +At home a deeper thought may light +The inward sky with chrysolite, +And I greet from far the ray, +Aurora of a dearer day. + +But if upon the seas I sail, +Or trundle on the glowing rail, +I am but a thought of hers, +Loveliest of travellers. + +So the gentle poet's name +To foreign parts is blown by fame, +Seek him in his native town, +He is hidden and unknown. + + + +BOSTON + +SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS + +The rocky nook with hilltops three + Looked eastward from the farms, +And twice each day the flowing sea + Took Boston in its arms; +The men of yore were stout and poor, +And sailed for bread to every shore. + +And where they went on trade intent + They did what freemen can, +Their dauntless ways did all men praise, + The merchant was a man. +The world was made for honest trade,-- +To plant and eat be none afraid. + +The waves that rocked them on the deep + To them their secret told; +Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, + 'Like us be free and bold!' +The honest waves refused to slaves +The empire of the ocean caves. + +Old Europe groans with palaces, + Has lords enough and more;-- +We plant and build by foaming seas + A city of the poor;-- +For day by day could Boston Bay +Their honest labor overpay. + +We grant no dukedoms to the few, + We hold like rights, and shall;-- +Equal on Sunday in the pew, + On Monday in the mall, +For what avail the plough or sail, +Or land or life, if freedom fail? + +The noble craftsman we promote, + Disown the knave and fool; +Each honest man shall have his vote, + Each child shall have his school. +A union then of honest men, +Or union never more again. + +The wild rose and the barberry thorn + Hung out their summer pride, +Where now on heated pavements worn + The feet of millions stride. + +Fair rose the planted hills behind + The good town on the bay, +And where the western hills declined + The prairie stretched away. + +What care though rival cities soar + Along the stormy coast, +Penn's town, New York and Baltimore, + If Boston knew the most! + +They laughed to know the world so wide; + The mountains said, 'Good-day! +We greet you well, you Saxon men, + Up with your towns and stay!' +The world was made for honest trade,-- +To plant and eat be none afraid. + +'For you,' they said, 'no barriers be, + For you no sluggard rest; +Each street leads downward to the sea, + Or landward to the west.' + +O happy town beside the sea, + Whose roads lead everywhere to all; +Than thine no deeper moat can be, + No stouter fence, no steeper wall! + +Bad news from George on the English throne; + 'You are thriving well,' said he; +'Now by these presents be it known + You shall pay us a tax on tea; +'Tis very small,--no load at all,-- +Honor enough that we send the call. + +'Not so,' said Boston, 'good my lord, + We pay your governors here +Abundant for their bed and board, + Six thousand pounds a year. +(Your Highness knows our homely word) + Millions for self-government, + But for tribute never a cent.' + +The cargo came! and who could blame + If _Indians_ seized the tea, +And, chest by chest, let down the same, + Into the laughing sea? +For what avail the plough or sail, +Or land or life, if freedom fail? + +The townsmen braved the English king, + Found friendship in the French, +And honor joined the patriot ring + Low on their wooden bench. + +O bounteous seas that never fail! + O day remembered yet! +O happy port that spied the sail + Which wafted Lafayette! +Pole-star of light in Europe's night, +That never faltered from the right. + +Kings shook with fear, old empires crave + The secret force to find +Which fired the little State to save + The rights of all mankind. + +But right is might through all the world; + Province to province faithful clung, +Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled, + Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung. + +The sea returning day by day + Restores the world-wide mart; +So let each dweller on the Bay + Fold Boston in his heart, +Till these echoes be choked with snows, +Or over the town blue ocean flows. + +Let the blood of her hundred thousands + Throb in each manly vein; +And the wits of all her wisest, + Make sunshine in her brain. +For you can teach the lightning speech, +And round the globe your voices reach. + +And each shall care for other, + And each to each shall bend, +To the poor a noble brother, + To the good an equal friend. + +A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers! +GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours! + + + +LETTERS + +Every day brings a ship, +Every ship brings a word; +Well for those who have no fear. +Looking seaward, well assured +That the word the vessel brings +Is the word they wish to hear. + + + +RUBIES + +They brought me rubies from the mine, + And held them to the sun; +I said, they are drops of frozen wine + From Eden's vats that run. + +I looked again,--I thought them hearts + Of friends to friends unknown; +Tides that should warm each neighboring life + Are locked in sparkling stone. + +But fire to thaw that ruddy snow, + To break enchanted ice, +And give love's scarlet tides to flow,-- + When shall that sun arise? + + + +MERLIN'S SONG + +I + +Of Merlin wise I learned a song,-- +Sing it low or sing it loud, +It is mightier than the strong, +And punishes the proud. +I sing it to the surging crowd,-- +Good men it will calm and cheer, +Bad men it will chain and cage-- +In the heart of the music peals a strain +Which only angels hear; +Whether it waken joy or rage +Hushed myriads hark in vain, +Yet they who hear it shed their age, +And take their youth again. + +II + +Hear what British Merlin sung, +Of keenest eye and truest tongue. +Say not, the chiefs who first arrive +Usurp the seats for which all strive; +The forefathers this land who found +Failed to plant the vantage-ground; +Ever from one who comes to-morrow +Men wait their good and truth to borrow. +But wilt thou measure all thy road, +See thou lift the lightest load. +Who has little, to him who has less, can spare, +And thou, Cyndyllan's son! beware +Ponderous gold and stuffs to bear, +To falter ere thou thy task fulfil,-- +Only the light-armed climb the hill. +The richest of all lords is Use, +And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse. +Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, +Drink the wild air's salubrity: +When the star Canope shines in May, +Shepherds are thankful and nations gay. +The music that can deepest reach, +And cure all ill, is cordial speech: +Mask thy wisdom with delight, +Toy with the bow, yet hit the white. +Of all wit's uses, the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +THE TEST + +(Musa loquitur.) + +I hung my verses in the wind, +Time and tide their faults may find. +All were winnowed through and through, +Five lines lasted sound and true; +Five were smelted in a pot +Than the South more fierce and hot; +These the siroc could not melt, +Fire their fiercer flaming felt, +And the meaning was more white +Than July's meridian light. +Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, +Nor time unmake what poets know. +Have you eyes to find the five +Which five hundred did survive? + + + +SOLUTION + +I am the Muse who sung alway +By Jove, at dawn of the first day. +Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wrought +To fire the stagnant earth with thought: +On spawning slime my song prevails, +Wolves shed their fangs, and dragons scales; +Flushed in the sky the sweet May-morn, +Earth smiled with flowers, and man was born. +Then Asia yeaned her shepherd race, +And Nile substructs her granite base,-- +Tented Tartary, columned Nile,-- +And, under vines, on rocky isle, +Or on wind-blown sea-marge bleak, +Forward stepped the perfect Greek: +That wit and joy might find a tongue, +And earth grow civil, HOMER sung. + + Flown to Italy from Greece, +I brooded long and held my peace, +For I am wont to sing uncalled, +And in days of evil plight +Unlock doors of new delight; +And sometimes mankind I appalled +With a bitter horoscope, +With spasms of terror for balm of hope. +Then by better thought I lead +Bards to speak what nations need; +So I folded me in fears, +And DANTE searched the triple spheres, +Moulding Nature at his will, +So shaped, so colored, swift or still, +And, sculptor-like, his large design +Etched on Alp and Apennine. + + Seethed in mists of Penmanmaur, +Taught by Plinlimmon's Druid power, +England's genius filled all measure +Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, +Gave to the mind its emperor, +And life was larger than before: +Nor sequent centuries could hit +Orbit and sum of SHAKSPEARE'S wit. +The men who lived with him became +Poets, for the air was fame. + + Far in the North, where polar night +Holds in check the frolic light, +In trance upborne past mortal goal +The Swede EMANUEL leads the soul. +Through snows above, mines underground, +The inks of Erebus he found; +Rehearsed to men the damned wails +On which the seraph music sails. +In spirit-worlds he trod alone, +But walked the earth unmarked, unknown, +The near bystander caught no sound,-- +Yet they who listened far aloof +Heard rendings of the skyey roof, +And felt, beneath, the quaking ground; +And his air-sown, unheeded words, +In the next age, are flaming swords. + + In newer days of war and trade, +Romance forgot, and faith decayed, +When Science armed and guided war, +And clerks the Janus-gates unbar, +When France, where poet never grew, +Halved and dealt the globe anew, +GOETHE, raised o'er joy and strife, +Drew the firm lines of Fate and Life +And brought Olympian wisdom down +To court and mart, to gown and town. +Stooping, his finger wrote in clay +The open secret of to-day. + + So bloom the unfading petals five, +And verses that all verse outlive. + + + +HYMN + +SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION +OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS + +We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;-- +In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod. + +Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, +And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place. + +And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, +And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife. + +From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, +And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again; + +For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, +Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below. + +They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, +And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way. + +On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, +Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all. + + + +NATURE I + +Winters know +Easily to shed the snow, +And the untaught Spring is wise +In cowslips and anemonies. +Nature, hating art and pains, +Baulks and baffles plotting brains; +Casualty and Surprise +Are the apples of her eyes; +But she dearly loves the poor, +And, by marvel of her own, +Strikes the loud pretender down. +For Nature listens in the rose +And hearkens in the berry's bell +To help her friends, to plague her foes, +And like wise God she judges well. +Yet doth much her love excel +To the souls that never fell, +To swains that live in happiness +And do well because they please, +Who walk in ways that are unfamed, +And feats achieve before they're named. + + + +NATURE II + +She is gamesome and good, +But of mutable mood,-- +No dreary repeater now and again, +She will be all things to all men. +She who is old, but nowise feeble, +Pours her power into the people, +Merry and manifold without bar, +Makes and moulds them what they are, +And what they call their city way +Is not their way, but hers, +And what they say they made to-day, +They learned of the oaks and firs. +She spawneth men as mallows fresh, +Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; +She drugs her water and her wheat +With the flavors she finds meet, +And gives them what to drink and eat; +And having thus their bread and growth, +They do her bidding, nothing loath. +What's most theirs is not their own, +But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, +And in their vaunted works of Art +The master-stroke is still her part. + + + +THE ROMANY GIRL + +The sun goes down, and with him takes +The coarseness of my poor attire; +The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame +Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. + +Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; +You captives of your air-tight halls, +Wear out indoors your sickly days, +But leave us the horizon walls. + +And if I take you, dames, to task, +And say it frankly without guile, +Then you are Gypsies in a mask, +And I the lady all the while. + +If on the heath, below the moon, +I court and play with paler blood, +Me false to mine dare whisper none,-- +One sallow horseman knows me good. + +Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, +For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; +My swarthy tint is in the grain, +The rocks and forest know it real. + +The wild air bloweth in our lungs, +The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, +The birds gave us our wily tongues, +The panther in our dances flies. + +You doubt we read the stars on high, +Nathless we read your fortunes true; +The stars may hide in the upper sky, +But without glass we fathom you. + + + +DAYS + +Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, +Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, +And marching single in an endless file, +Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. +To each they offer gifts after his will, +Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. +I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, +Forgot my morning wishes, hastily +Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day +Turned and departed silent. I, too late, +Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn. + + + +MY GARDEN + +If I could put my woods in song +And tell what's there enjoyed, +All men would to my gardens throng, +And leave the cities void. + +In my plot no tulips blow,-- +Snow-loving pines and oaks instead; +And rank the savage maples grow +From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red. + +My garden is a forest ledge +Which older forests bound; +The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, +Then plunge to depths profound. + +Here once the Deluge ploughed, +Laid the terraces, one by one; +Ebbing later whence it flowed, +They bleach and dry in the sun. + +The sowers made haste to depart,-- +The wind and the birds which sowed it; +Not for fame, nor by rules of art, +Planted these, and tempests flowed it. + +Waters that wash my garden-side +Play not in Nature's lawful web, +They heed not moon or solar tide,-- +Five years elapse from flood to ebb. + +Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, +And every god,--none did refuse; +And be sure at last came Love, +And after Love, the Muse. + +Keen ears can catch a syllable, +As if one spake to another, +In the hemlocks tall, untamable, +And what the whispering grasses smother. + +Aeolian harps in the pine +Ring with the song of the Fates; +Infant Bacchus in the vine,-- +Far distant yet his chorus waits. + +Canst thou copy in verse one chime +Of the wood-bell's peal and cry, +Write in a book the morning's prime, +Or match with words that tender sky? + +Wonderful verse of the gods, +Of one import, of varied tone; +They chant the bliss of their abodes +To man imprisoned in his own. + +Ever the words of the gods resound; +But the porches of man's ear +Seldom in this low life's round +Are unsealed that he may hear. + +Wandering voices in the air +And murmurs in the wold +Speak what I cannot declare, +Yet cannot all withhold. + +When the shadow fell on the lake, +The whirlwind in ripples wrote +Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, +And omens above thought. + +But the meanings cleave to the lake, +Cannot be carried in book or urn; +Go thy ways now, come later back, +On waves and hedges still they burn. + +These the fates of men forecast, +Of better men than live to-day; +If who can read them comes at last +He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay.' + + + +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + +Day! hast thou two faces, +Making one place two places? +One, by humble farmer seen, +Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, +Useful only, triste and damp, +Serving for a laborer's lamp? +Have the same mists another side, +To be the appanage of pride, +Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, +His park where amber mornings break, +And treacherously bright to show +His planted isle where roses glow? +O Day! and is your mightiness +A sycophant to smug success? +Will the sweet sky and ocean broad +Be fine accomplices to fraud? +O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray: +Back, back to chaos, harlot Day! + + + +THE TITMOUSE + +You shall not be overbold +When you deal with arctic cold, +As late I found my lukewarm blood +Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. +How should I fight? my foeman fine +Has million arms to one of mine: +East, west, for aid I looked in vain, +East, west, north, south, are his domain. +Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; +Must borrow his winds who there would come. +Up and away for life! be fleet!-- +The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, +Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, +Curdles the blood to the marble bones, +Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, +And hems in life with narrowing fence. +Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,-- +The punctual stars will vigil keep,-- +Embalmed by purifying cold; +The winds shall sing their dead-march old, +The snow is no ignoble shroud, +The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. + + Softly,--but this way fate was pointing, +'T was coming fast to such anointing, +When piped a tiny voice hard by, +Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, +_Chic-chic-a-dee-de!_ saucy note +Out of sound heart and merry throat, +As if it said, 'Good day, good sir! +Fine afternoon, old passenger! +Happy to meet you in these places, +Where January brings few faces.' + + This poet, though he live apart, +Moved by his hospitable heart, +Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, +To do the honors of his court, +As fits a feathered lord of land; +Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, +Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, +Prints his small impress on the snow, +Shows feats of his gymnastic play, +Head downward, clinging to the spray. + + Here was this atom in full breath, +Hurling defiance at vast death; +This scrap of valor just for play +Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, +As if to shame my weak behavior; +I greeted loud my little savior, +'You pet! what dost here? and what for? +In these woods, thy small Labrador, +At this pinch, wee San Salvador! +What fire burns in that little chest +So frolic, stout and self-possest? +Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine; +Ashes and jet all hues outshine. +Why are not diamonds black and gray, +To ape thy dare-devil array? +And I affirm, the spacious North +Exists to draw thy virtue forth. +I think no virtue goes with size; +The reason of all cowardice +Is, that men are overgrown, +And, to be valiant, must come down +To the titmouse dimension.' + + 'T is good will makes intelligence, +And I began to catch the sense +Of my bird's song: 'Live out of doors +In the great woods, on prairie floors. +I dine in the sun; when he sinks in the sea, +I too have a hole in a hollow tree; +And I like less when Summer beats +With stifling beams on these retreats, +Than noontide twilights which snow makes +With tempest of the blinding flakes. +For well the soul, if stout within, +Can arm impregnably the skin; +And polar frost my frame defied, +Made of the air that blows outside.' + + With glad remembrance of my debt, +I homeward turn; farewell, my pet! +When here again thy pilgrim comes, +He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. +Doubt not, so long as earth has bread, +Thou first and foremost shalt be fed; +The Providence that is most large +Takes hearts like thine in special charge, +Helps who for their own need are strong, +And the sky doats on cheerful song. +Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant +O'er all that mass and minster vaunt; +For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, +As 't would accost some frivolous wing, +Crying out of the hazel copse, _Phe-be!_ +And, in winter, _Chic-a-dee-dee!_ +I think old Caesar must have heard +In northern Gaul my dauntless bird, +And, echoed in some frosty wold, +Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. +And I will write our annals new, +And thank thee for a better clew, +I, who dreamed not when I came here +To find the antidote of fear, +Now hear thee say in Roman key, +_Paean! Veni, vidi, vici._ + + + +THE HARP + +One musician is sure, +His wisdom will not fail, +He has not tasted wine impure, +Nor bent to passion frail. +Age cannot cloud his memory, +Nor grief untune his voice, +Ranging down the ruled scale +From tone of joy to inward wail, +Tempering the pitch of all +In his windy cave. +He all the fables knows, +And in their causes tells,-- +Knows Nature's rarest moods, +Ever on her secret broods. +The Muse of men is coy, +Oft courted will not come; +In palaces and market squares +Entreated, she is dumb; +But my minstrel knows and tells +The counsel of the gods, +Knows of Holy Book the spells, +Knows the law of Night and Day, +And the heart of girl and boy, +The tragic and the gay, +And what is writ on Table Round +Of Arthur and his peers; +What sea and land discoursing say +In sidereal years. +He renders all his lore +In numbers wild as dreams, +Modulating all extremes,-- +What the spangled meadow saith +To the children who have faith; +Only to children children sing, +Only to youth will spring be spring. + + Who is the Bard thus magnified? +When did he sing? and where abide? + + Chief of song where poets feast +Is the wind-harp which thou seest +In the casement at my side. + + Aeolian harp, +How strangely wise thy strain! +Gay for youth, gay for youth, +(Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,) +In the hall at summer eve +Fate and Beauty skilled to weave. +From the eager opening strings +Rung loud and bold the song. +Who but loved the wind-harp's note? +How should not the poet doat +On its mystic tongue, +With its primeval memory, +Reporting what old minstrels told +Of Merlin locked the harp within,-- +Merlin paying the pain of sin, +Pent in a dungeon made of air,-- +And some attain his voice to hear, +Words of pain and cries of fear, +But pillowed all on melody, +As fits the griefs of bards to be. +And what if that all-echoing shell, +Which thus the buried Past can tell, +Should rive the Future, and reveal +What his dread folds would fain conceal? +It shares the secret of the earth, +And of the kinds that owe her birth. +Speaks not of self that mystic tone, +But of the Overgods alone: +It trembles to the cosmic breath,-- +As it heareth, so it saith; +Obeying meek the primal Cause, +It is the tongue of mundane laws. +And this, at least, I dare affirm, +Since genius too has bound and term, +There is no bard in all the choir, +Not Homer's self, the poet sire, +Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, +Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure, +Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, +Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, +Scott, the delight of generous boys, +Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,-- +Not one of all can put in verse, +Or to this presence could rehearse +The sights and voices ravishing +The boy knew on the hills in spring, +When pacing through the oaks he heard +Sharp queries of the sentry-bird, +The heavy grouse's sudden whir, +The rattle of the kingfisher; +Saw bonfires of the harlot flies +In the lowland, when day dies; +Or marked, benighted and forlorn, +The first far signal-fire of morn. +These syllables that Nature spoke, +And the thoughts that in him woke, +Can adequately utter none +Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. +Therein I hear the Parcae reel +The threads of man at their humming wheel, +The threads of life and power and pain, +So sweet and mournful falls the strain. +And best can teach its Delphian chord +How Nature to the soul is moored, +If once again that silent string, +As erst it wont, would thrill and ring. + + Not long ago at eventide, +It seemed, so listening, at my side +A window rose, and, to say sooth, +I looked forth on the fields of youth: +I saw fair boys bestriding steeds, +I knew their forms in fancy weeds, +Long, long concealed by sundering fates, +Mates of my youth,--yet not my mates, +Stronger and bolder far than I, +With grace, with genius, well attired, +And then as now from far admired, +Followed with love +They knew not of, +With passion cold and shy. +O joy, for what recoveries rare! +Renewed, I breathe Elysian air, +See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,-- +Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb! +Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil +Of life resurgent from the soil +Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil. + + + +SEASHORE + +I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea +Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? +Am I not always here, thy summer home? +Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? +My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, +My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? +Was ever building like my terraces? +Was ever couch magnificent as mine? +Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn +A little hut suffices like a town. +I make your sculptured architecture vain, +Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, +And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. +Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, +Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs +Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab +Older than all thy race. + + Behold the Sea, +The opaline, the plentiful and strong, +Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, +Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; +Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, +Purger of earth, and medicine of men; +Creating a sweet climate by my breath, +Washing out harms and griefs from memory, +And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, +Giving a hint of that which changes not. +Rich are the sea-gods:--who gives gifts but they? +They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: +They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. +For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, +Wealth to the cunning artist who can work +This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! +A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? + + I with my hammer pounding evermore +The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, +Strewing my bed, and, in another age, +Rebuild a continent of better men. +Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out +The exodus of nations: I disperse +Men to all shores that front the hoary main. + + I too have arts and sorceries; +Illusion dwells forever with the wave. +I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal +With credulous and imaginative man; +For, though he scoop my water in his palm, +A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. +Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, +I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, +To distant men, who must go there, or die. + + + +SONG OF NATURE + +Mine are the night and morning, +The pits of air, the gulf of space, +The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, +The innumerable days. + +I hide in the solar glory, +I am dumb in the pealing song, +I rest on the pitch of the torrent, +In slumber I am strong. + +No numbers have counted my tallies, +No tribes my house can fill, +I sit by the shining Fount of Life +And pour the deluge still; + +And ever by delicate powers +Gathering along the centuries +From race on race the rarest flowers, +My wreath shall nothing miss. + +And many a thousand summers +My gardens ripened well, +And light from meliorating stars +With firmer glory fell. + +I wrote the past in characters +Of rock and fire the scroll, +The building in the coral sea, +The planting of the coal. + +And thefts from satellites and rings +And broken stars I drew, +And out of spent and aged things +I formed the world anew; + +What time the gods kept carnival, +Tricked out in star and flower, +And in cramp elf and saurian forms +They swathed their too much power. + +Time and Thought were my surveyors, +They laid their courses well, +They boiled the sea, and piled the layers +Of granite, marl and shell. + +But he, the man-child glorious,-- +Where tarries he the while? +The rainbow shines his harbinger, +The sunset gleams his smile. + +My boreal lights leap upward, +Forthright my planets roll, +And still the man-child is not born, +The summit of the whole. + +Must time and tide forever run? +Will never my winds go sleep in the west? +Will never my wheels which whirl the sun +And satellites have rest? + +Too much of donning and doffing, +Too slow the rainbow fades, +I weary of my robe of snow, +My leaves and my cascades; + +I tire of globes and races, +Too long the game is played; +What without him is summer's pomp, +Or winter's frozen shade? + +I travail in pain for him, +My creatures travail and wait; +His couriers come by squadrons, +He comes not to the gate. + +Twice I have moulded an image, +And thrice outstretched my hand, +Made one of day and one of night +And one of the salt sea-sand. + +One in a Judaean manger, +And one by Avon stream, +One over against the mouths of Nile, +And one in the Academe. + +I moulded kings and saviors, +And bards o'er kings to rule;-- +But fell the starry influence short, +The cup was never full. + +Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more, +And mix the bowl again; +Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements, +Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain. + +Let war and trade and creeds and song +Blend, ripen race on race, +The sunburnt world a man shall breed +Of all the zones and countless days. + +No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, +My oldest force is good as new, +And the fresh rose on yonder thorn +Gives back the bending heavens in dew. + + + +TWO RIVERS + +Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, +Repeats the music of the rain; +But sweeter rivers pulsing flit +Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. + +Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: +The stream I love unbounded goes +Through flood and sea and firmament; +Through light, through life, it forward flows. + +I see the inundation sweet, +I hear the spending of the stream +Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, +Through love and thought, through power and dream. + +Musketaquit, a goblin strong, +Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; +They lose their grief who hear his song, +And where he winds is the day of day. + +So forth and brighter fares my stream,-- +Who drink it shall not thirst again; +No darkness stains its equal gleam. +And ages drop in it like rain. + + + +WALDEINSAMKEIT + +I do not count the hours I spend +In wandering by the sea; +The forest is my loyal friend, +Like God it useth me. + +In plains that room for shadows make +Of skirting hills to lie, +Bound in by streams which give and take +Their colors from the sky; + +Or on the mountain-crest sublime, +Or down the oaken glade, +O what have I to do with time? +For this the day was made. + +Cities of mortals woe-begone +Fantastic care derides, +But in the serious landscape lone +Stern benefit abides. + +Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, +And merry is only a mask of sad, +But, sober on a fund of joy, +The woods at heart are glad. + +There the great Planter plants +Of fruitful worlds the grain, +And with a million spells enchants +The souls that walk in pain. + +Still on the seeds of all he made +The rose of beauty burns; +Through times that wear and forms that fade, +Immortal youth returns. + +The black ducks mounting from the lake, +The pigeon in the pines, +The bittern's boom, a desert make +Which no false art refines. + +Down in yon watery nook, +Where bearded mists divide, +The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, +The sires of Nature, hide. + +Aloft, in secret veins of air, +Blows the sweet breath of song, +O, few to scale those uplands dare, +Though they to all belong! + +See thou bring not to field or stone +The fancies found in books; +Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, +To brave the landscape's looks. + +Oblivion here thy wisdom is, +Thy thrift, the sleep of cares; +For a proud idleness like this +Crowns all thy mean affairs. + + + +TERMINUS + +It is time to be old, +To take in sail:-- +The god of bounds, +Who sets to seas a shore, +Came to me in his fatal rounds, +And said: 'No more! +No farther shoot +Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. +Fancy departs: no more invent; +Contract thy firmament +To compass of a tent. +There's not enough for this and that, +Make thy option which of two; +Economize the failing river, +Not the less revere the Giver, +Leave the many and hold the few. +Timely wise accept the terms, +Soften the fall with wary foot; +A little while +Still plan and smile, +And,--fault of novel germs,-- +Mature the unfallen fruit. +Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, +Bad husbands of their fires, +Who, when they gave thee breath, +Failed to bequeath +The needful sinew stark as once, +The Baresark marrow to thy bones, +But left a legacy of ebbing veins, +Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,-- +Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, +Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' + + As the bird trims her to the gale, +I trim myself to the storm of time, +I man the rudder, reef the sail, +Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: +'Lowly faithful, banish fear, +Right onward drive unharmed; +The port, well worth the cruise, is near, +And every wave is charmed.' + + + +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + +The yesterday doth never smile, +The day goes drudging through the while, +Yet, in the name of Godhead, I +The morrow front, and can defy; +Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, +Cannot withhold his conquering aid. +Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, +If He should make my web a blot +On life's fair picture of delight, +My heart's content would find it right. +But O, these waves and leaves,-- +When happy stoic Nature grieves, +No human speech so beautiful +As their murmurs mine to lull. +On this altar God hath built +I lay my vanity and guilt; +Nor me can Hope or Passion urge +Hearing as now the lofty dirge +Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, +Nature's funeral high and dim,-- +Sable pageantry of clouds, +Mourning summer laid in shrouds. +Many a day shall dawn and die, +Many an angel wander by, +And passing, light my sunken turf +Moist perhaps by ocean surf, +Forgotten amid splendid tombs, +Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. +On earth I dream;--I die to be: +Time, shake not thy bald head at me. +I challenge thee to hurry past +Or for my turn to fly too fast. +Think me not numbed or halt with age, +Or cares that earth to earth engage, +Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, +Or mired by climate's gross extremes. +I tire of shams, I rush to be: +I pass with yonder comet free,-- +Pass with the comet into space +Which mocks thy aeons to embrace; +Aeons which tardily unfold +Realm beyond realm,--extent untold; +No early morn, no evening late,-- +Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, +Whose shining sons, too great for fame, +Never heard thy weary name; +Nor lives the tragic bard to say +How drear the part I held in one, +How lame the other limped away. + + + +APRIL + +The April winds are magical +And thrill our tuneful frames; +The garden walks are passional +To bachelors and dames. +The hedge is gemmed with diamonds, +The air with Cupids full, +The cobweb clues of Rosamond +Guide lovers to the pool. +Each dimple in the water, +Each leaf that shades the rock +Can cozen, pique and flatter, +Can parley and provoke. +Goodfellow, Puck and goblins, +Know more than any book. +Down with your doleful problems, +And court the sunny brook. +The south-winds are quick-witted, +The schools are sad and slow, +The masters quite omitted +The lore we care to know. + + + +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + +Soft and softlier hold me, friends! +Thanks if your genial care +Unbind and give me to the air. +Keep your lips or finger-tips +For flute or spinet's dancing chips; +I await a tenderer touch, +I ask more or not so much: +Give me to the atmosphere,-- +Where is the wind, my brother,--where? +Lift the sash, lay me within, +Lend me your ears, and I begin. +For gentle harp to gentle hearts +The secret of the world imparts; +And not to-day and not to-morrow +Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; +But day by day, to loving ear +Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. +I've come to live with you, sweet friends, +This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. +Many and subtle are my lays, +The latest better than the first, +For I can mend the happiest days +And charm the anguish of the worst. + + + +CUPIDO + +The solid, solid universe +Is pervious to Love; +With bandaged eyes he never errs, +Around, below, above. +His blinding light +He flingeth white +On God's and Satan's brood, +And reconciles +By mystic wiles +The evil and the good. + + + +THE PAST + +The debt is paid, +The verdict said, +The Furies laid, +The plague is stayed. +All fortunes made; +Turn the key and bolt the door, +Sweet is death forevermore. +Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, +Nor murdering hate, can enter in. +All is now secure and fast; +Not the gods can shake the Past; +Flies-to the adamantine door +Bolted down forevermore. +None can reënter there,-- +No thief so politic, +No Satan with a royal trick +Steal in by window, chink, or hole, +To bind or unbind, add what lacked, +Insert a leaf, or forge a name, +New-face or finish what is packed, +Alter or mend eternal Fact. + + + +THE LAST FAREWELL + +LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, +EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT +OF BOSTON HARBOR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF +PORTO RICO, IN 1832 + +Farewell, ye lofty spires +That cheered the holy light! +Farewell, domestic fires +That broke the gloom of night! +Too soon those spires are lost, +Too fast we leave the bay, +Too soon by ocean tost +From hearth and home away, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell the busy town, +The wealthy and the wise, +Kind smile and honest frown +From bright, familiar eyes. +All these are fading now; +Our brig hastes on her way, +Her unremembering prow +Is leaping o'er the sea, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, my mother fond, +Too kind, too good to me; +Nor pearl nor diamond +Would pay my debt to thee. +But even thy kiss denies +Upon my cheek to stay; +The winged vessel flies, +And billows round her play, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, my brothers true, +My betters, yet my peers; +How desert without you +My few and evil years! +But though aye one in heart, +Together sad or gay, +Rude ocean doth us part; +We separate to-day, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, thou fairest one, +Unplighted yet to me, +Uncertain of thine own +I gave my heart to thee. +That untold early love +I leave untold to-day, +My lips in whisper move +Farewell to ...! + Far away, far away. + +Farewell I breathe again +To dim New England's shore, +My heart shall beat not when +I pant for thee no more. +In yon green palmy isle, +Beneath the tropic ray, +I murmur never while +For thee and thine I pray; + Far away, far away. + + + +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + +I mourn upon this battle-field, +But not for those who perished here. +Behold the river-bank +Whither the angry farmers came, +In sloven dress and broken rank, +Nor thought of fame. +Their deed of blood +All mankind praise; +Even the serene Reason says, +It was well done. +The wise and simple have one glance +To greet yon stern head-stone, +Which more of pride than pity gave +To mark the Briton's friendless grave. +Yet it is a stately tomb; +The grand return +Of eve and morn, +The year's fresh bloom, +The silver cloud, +Might grace the dust that is most proud. + + Yet not of these I muse +In this ancestral place, +But of a kindred face +That never joy or hope shall here diffuse. + + Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! +What hast thou to do with these +Haunting this bank's historic trees? +Thou born for noblest life, +For action's field, for victor's car, +Thou living champion of the right? +To these their penalty belonged: +I grudge not these their bed of death, +But thine to thee, who never wronged +The poorest that drew breath. + + All inborn power that could +Consist with homage to the good +Flamed from his martial eye; +He who seemed a soldier born, +He should have the helmet worn, +All friends to fend, all foes defy, +Fronting foes of God and man, +Frowning down the evil-doer, +Battling for the weak and poor. +His from youth the leader's look +Gave the law which others took, +And never poor beseeching glance +Shamed that sculptured countenance. + + There is no record left on earth, +Save in tablets of the heart, +Of the rich inherent worth, +Of the grace that on him shone, +Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit: +He could not frame a word unfit, +An act unworthy to be done; +Honor prompted every glance, +Honor came and sat beside him, +In lowly cot or painful road, +And evermore the cruel god +Cried "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed, +Born for success he seemed, +With grace to win, with heart to hold, +With shining gifts that took all eyes, +With budding power in college-halls, +As pledged in coming days to forge +Weapons to guard the State, or scourge +Tyrants despite their guards or walls. +On his young promise Beauty smiled, +Drew his free homage unbeguiled, +And prosperous Age held out his hand, +And richly his large future planned, +And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,-- +All, all was given, and only health denied. + + I see him with superior smile +Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train +In lands remote, in toil and pain, +With angel patience labor on, +With the high port he wore erewhile, +When, foremost of the youthful band, +The prizes in all lists he won; +Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, +And, least of all, the loyal tie +Which holds to home 'neath every sky, +The joy and pride the pilgrim feels +In hearts which round the hearth at home +Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam. + + What generous beliefs console +The brave whom Fate denies the goal! +If others reach it, is content; +To Heaven's high will his will is bent. +Firm on his heart relied, +What lot soe'er betide, +Work of his hand +He nor repents nor grieves, +Pleads for itself the fact, +As unrepenting Nature leaves +Her every act. + + Fell the bolt on the branching oak; +The rainbow of his hope was broke; +No craven cry, no secret tear,-- +He told no pang, he knew no fear; +Its peace sublime his aspect kept, +His purpose woke, his features slept; +And yet between the spasms of pain +His genius beamed with joy again. + + O'er thy rich dust the endless smile +Of Nature in thy Spanish isle +Hints never loss or cruel break +And sacrifice for love's dear sake, +Nor mourn the unalterable Days +That Genius goes and Folly stays. +What matters how, or from what ground, +The freed soul its Creator found? +Alike thy memory embalms +That orange-grove, that isle of palms, +And these loved banks, whose oak-bough bold +Root in the blood of heroes old. + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + + * * * * * + + + +EXPERIENCE + +The lords of life, the lords of life,-- +I saw them pass +In their own guise, +Like and unlike, +Portly and grim,-- +Use and Surprise, +Surface and Dream, +Succession swift and spectral Wrong, +Temperament without a tongue, +And the inventor of the game +Omnipresent without name;-- +Some to see, some to be guessed, +They marched from east to west: +Little man, least of all, +Among the legs of his guardians tall, +Walked about with puzzled look. +Him by the hand dear Nature took, +Dearest Nature, strong and kind, +Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! +To-morrow they will wear another face, +The founder thou; these are thy race!' + + + +COMPENSATION + +The wings of Time are black and white, +Pied with morning and with night. +Mountain tall and ocean deep +Trembling balance duly keep. +In changing moon and tidal wave +Glows the feud of Want and Have. +Gauge of more and less through space, +Electric star or pencil plays, +The lonely Earth amid the balls +That hurry through the eternal halls, +A makeweight flying to the void, +Supplemental asteroid, +Or compensatory spark, +Shoots across the neutral Dark. + +Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; +Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: +Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, +None from its stock that vine can reave. +Fear not, then, thou child infirm, +There's no god dare wrong a worm; +Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, +And power to him who power exerts. +Hast not thy share? On winged feet, +Lo it rushes thee to meet; +And all that Nature made thy own, +Floating in air or pent in stone, +Will rive the hills and swim the sea, +And, like thy shadow, follow thee. + + + +POLITICS + +Gold and iron are good +To buy iron and gold; +All earth's fleece and food +For their like are sold. +Boded Merlin wise, +Proved Napoleon great, +Nor kind nor coinage buys +Aught above its rate. +Fear, Craft and Avarice +Cannot rear a State. +Out of dust to build +What is more than dust, +Walls Amphion piled +Phoebus stablish must. +When the Muses nine +With the Virtues meet, +Find to their design +An Atlantic seat, +By green orchard boughs +Fended from the heat, +here the statesman ploughs +Furrow for the wheat,-- +When the Church is social worth, +When the state-house is the hearth, +Then the perfect State is come, +The republican at home. + + + +HEROISM + +Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, +Sugar spends to fatten slaves, +Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; +Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, +Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, +Lightning-knotted round his head; +The hero is not fed on sweets, +Daily his own heart he eats; +Chambers of the great are jails, +And head-winds right for royal sails. + + + +CHARACTER + +The sun set, but set not his hope: +Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: +Fixed on the enormous galaxy, +Deeper and older seemed his eye; +And matched his sufferance sublime +The taciturnity of time. +He spoke, and words more soft than rain +Brought the Age of Gold again: +His action won such reverence sweet +As hid all measure of the feat. + + + +CULTURE + +Can rules or tutors educate +The semigod whom we await? +He must be musical, +Tremulous, impressional, +Alive to gentle influence +Of landscape and of sky, +And tender to the spirit-touch +Of man's or maiden's eye: +But, to his native centre fast, +Shall into Future fuse the Past, +And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +A ruddy drop of manly blood +The surging sea outweighs, +The world uncertain comes and goes; +The lover rooted stays. +I fancied he was fled,-- +And, after many a year, +Glowed unexhausted kindliness, +Like daily sunrise there. +My careful heart was free again, +O friend, my bosom said, +Through thee alone the sky is arched, +Through thee the rose is red; +All things through thee take nobler form, +And look beyond the earth, +The mill-round of our fate appears +A sun-path in thy worth. +Me too thy nobleness has taught +To master my despair; +The fountains of my hidden life +Are through thy friendship fair. + + + +SPIRITUAL LAWS + +The living Heaven thy prayers respect, +House at once and architect, +Quarrying man's rejected hours, +Builds therewith eternal towers; +Sole and self-commanded works, +Fears not undermining days, +Grows by decays, +And, by the famous might that lurks +In reaction and recoil, +Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; +Forging, through swart arms of Offence, +The silver seat of Innocence. + + + +BEAUTY + +Was never form and never face +So sweet to SEYD as only grace +Which did not slumber like a stone, +But hovered gleaming and was gone. +Beauty chased he everywhere, +In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. +He smote the lake to feed his eye +With the beryl beam of the broken wave; +He flung in pebbles well to hear +The moment's music which they gave. +Oft pealed for him a lofty tone +From nodding pole and belting zone. +He heard a voice none else could hear +From centred and from errant sphere. +The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, +Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. +In dens of passion, and pits of woe, +He saw strong Eros struggling through, +To sun the dark and solve the curse, +And beam to the bounds of the universe. +While thus to love he gave his days +In loyal worship, scorning praise, +How spread their lures for him in vain +Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! +He thought it happier to be dead, +To die for Beauty, than live for bread. + + + +MANNERS + +Grace, Beauty and Caprice +Build this golden portal; +Graceful women, chosen men, +Dazzle every mortal. +Their sweet and lofty countenance +His enchanted food; +He need not go to them, their forms +Beset his solitude. +He looketh seldom in their face, +His eyes explore the ground,-- +The green grass is a looking-glass +Whereon their traits are found. +Little and less he says to them, +So dances his heart in his breast; +Their tranquil mien bereaveth him +Of wit, of words, of rest. +Too weak to win, too fond to shun +The tyrants of his doom, +The much deceived Endymion +Slips behind a tomb. + + + +ART + +Give to barrows, trays and pans +Grace and glimmer of romance; +Bring the moonlight into noon +Hid in gleaming piles of stone; +On the city's paved street +Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; +Let spouting fountains cool the air, +Singing in the sun-baked square; +Let statue, picture, park and hall, +Ballad, flag and festival, +The past restore, the day adorn, +And make to-morrow a new morn. +So shall the drudge in dusty frock +Spy behind the city clock +Retinues of airy kings, +Skirts of angels, starry wings, +His fathers shining in bright fables, +His children fed at heavenly tables. +'T is the privilege of Art +Thus to play its cheerful part, +Man on earth to acclimate +And bend the exile to his fate, +And, moulded of one element +With the days and firmament, +Teach him on these as stairs to climb, +And live on even terms with Time; +Whilst upper life the slender rill +Of human sense doth overfill. + + + +UNITY + +Space is ample, east and west, +But two cannot go abreast, +Cannot travel in it two: +Yonder masterful cuckoo +Crowds every egg out of the nest, +Quick or dead, except its own; +A spell is laid on sod and stone, +Night and Day were tampered with, +Every quality and pith +Surcharged and sultry with a power +That works its will on age and hour. + + + +WORSHIP + +This is he, who, felled by foes, +Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: +He to captivity was sold, +But him no prison-bars would hold: +Though they sealed him in a rock, +Mountain chains he can unlock: +Thrown to lions for their meat, +The crouching lion kissed his feet; +Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, +But arched o'er him an honoring vault. +This is he men miscall Fate, +Threading dark ways, arriving late, +But ever coming in time to crown +The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. +He is the oldest, and best known, +More near than aught thou call'st thy own, +Yet, greeted in another's eyes, +Disconcerts with glad surprise. +This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, +Floods with blessings unawares. +Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line +Severing rightly his from thine, +Which is human, which divine. + + + +PRUDENCE + +Theme no poet gladly sung, +Fair to old and foul to young; +Scorn not thou the love of parts, +And the articles of arts. +Grandeur of the perfect sphere +Thanks the atoms that cohere. + + + +NATURE + +I + +A subtle chain of countless rings +The next unto the farthest brings; +The eye reads omens where it goes, +And speaks all languages the rose; +And, striving to be man, the worm +Mounts through all the spires of form. + +II + +The rounded world is fair to see, +Nine times folded in mystery: +Though baffled seers cannot impart +The secret of its laboring heart, +Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, +And all is clear from east to west. +Spirit that lurks each form within +Beckons to spirit of its kin; +Self-kindled every atom glows +And hints the future which it owes. + + + +THE INFORMING SPIRIT + +I + +There is no great and no small +To the Soul that maketh all: +And where it cometh, all things are; +And it cometh everywhere. + +II + +I am owner of the sphere, +Of the seven stars and the solar year, +Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, +Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. + + + +CIRCLES + +Nature centres into balls, +And her proud ephemerals, +Fast to surface and outside, +Scan the profile of the sphere; +Knew they what that signified, +A new genesis were here. + + + +INTELLECT + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals;-- +The sower scatters broad his seed; +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +GIFTS + +Gifts of one who loved me,-- +'T was high time they came; +When he ceased to love me, +Time they stopped for shame. + + +PROMISE + +In countless upward-striving waves +The moon-drawn tide-wave strives; +In thousand far-transplanted grafts +The parent fruit survives; +So, in the new-born millions, +The perfect Adam lives. +Not less are summer mornings dear +To every child they wake, +And each with novel life his sphere +Fills for his proper sake. + + + +CARITAS + +In the suburb, in the town, +On the railway, in the square, +Came a beam of goodness down +Doubling daylight everywhere: +Peace now each for malice takes, +Beauty for his sinful weeds, +For the angel Hope aye makes +Him an angel whom she leads. + + + +POWER + +His tongue was framed to music, +And his hand was armed with skill; +His face was the mould of beauty, +And his heart the throne of will. + + + +WEALTH + +Who shall tell what did befall, +Far away in time, when once, +Over the lifeless ball, +Hung idle stars and suns? +What god the element obeyed? +Wings of what wind the lichen bore, +Wafting the puny seeds of power, +Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade? +And well the primal pioneer +Knew the strong task to it assigned, +Patient through Heaven's enormous year +To build in matter home for mind. +From air the creeping centuries drew +The matted thicket low and wide, +This must the leaves of ages strew +The granite slab to clothe and hide, +Ere wheat can wave its golden pride. +What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled +(In dizzy aeons dim and mute +The reeling brain can ill compute) +Copper and iron, lead and gold? +What oldest star the fame can save +Of races perishing to pave +The planet with a floor of lime? +Dust is their pyramid and mole: +Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed +Under the tumbling mountain's breast, +In the safe herbal of the coal? +But when the quarried means were piled, +All is waste and worthless, till +Arrives the wise selecting will, +And, out of slime and chaos, Wit +Draws the threads of fair and fit. +Then temples rose, and towns, and marts, +The shop of toil, the hall of arts; +Then flew the sail across the seas +To feed the North from tropic trees; +The storm-wind wove, the torrent span, +Where they were bid, the rivers ran; +New slaves fulfilled the poet's dream, +Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam. +Then docks were built, and crops were stored, +And ingots added to the hoard. +But though light-headed man forget, +Remembering Matter pays her debt: +Still, through her motes and masses, draw +Electric thrills and ties of law, +Which bind the strengths of Nature wild +To the conscience of a child. + + + +ILLUSIONS + +Flow, flow the waves hated, +Accursed, adored, +The waves of mutation; +No anchorage is. +Sleep is not, death is not; +Who seem to die live. +House you were born in, +Friends of your spring-time, +Old man and young maid, +Day's toil and its guerdon, +They are all vanishing, +Fleeing to fables, +Cannot be moored. +See the stars through them, +Through treacherous marbles. +Know the stars yonder, +The stars everlasting, +Are fugitive also, +And emulate, vaulted, +The lambent heat lightning +And fire-fly's flight. + +When thou dost return +On the wave's circulation, +Behold the shimmer, +The wild dissipation, +And, out of endeavor +To change and to flow, +The gas become solid, +And phantoms and nothings +Return to be things, +And endless imbroglio +Is law and the world,-- +Then first shalt thou know, +That in the wild turmoil, +Horsed on the Proteus, +Thou ridest to power, +And to endurance. + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + * * * * * + + + + +QUATRAINS + + + +A.H. + +High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, +Her manners made of bounty well refined; +Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, +Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. + + + +HUSH! + +Every thought is public, +Every nook is wide; +Thy gossips spread each whisper, +And the gods from side to side. + + + +ORATOR + +He who has no hands +Perforce must use his tongue; +Foxes are so cunning +Because they are not strong. + + + +ARTIST + +Quit the hut, frequent the palace, +Reck not what the people say; +For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, +Huntsmen find the easiest way. + + + +POET + +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Steers his bark and trims his sail; +Right out to sea his courses stand, +New worlds to find in pinnace frail. + + + +POET + +To clothe the fiery thought +In simple words succeeds, +For still the craft of genius is +To mask a king in weeds. + + + +BOTANIST + +Go thou to thy learned task, +I stay with the flowers of Spring: +Do thou of the Ages ask +What me the Hours will bring. + + + +GARDENER + +True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, +Expound the Vedas of the violet, +Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, +See the plum redden, and the beurré stoop. + + + +FORESTER + +He took the color of his vest +From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; +For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, +So walks the woodman, unespied. + + + +NORTHMAN + +The gale that wrecked you on the sand, +It helped my rowers to row; +The storm is my best galley hand +And drives me where I go. + + + +FROM ALCUIN + +The sea is the road of the bold, +Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, +The pit wherein the streams are rolled +And fountain of the rains. + + + +EXCELSIOR + +Over his head were the maple buds, +And over the tree was the moon, +And over the moon were the starry studs +That drop from the angels' shoon. + + + +S.H. + +With beams December planets dart +His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, +July was in his sunny heart, +October in his liberal hand. + + + +BORROWING + +FROM THE FRENCH + +Some of your hurts you have cured, +And the sharpest you still have survived, +But what torments of grief you endured +From evils which never arrived! + + + +NATURE + +Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, +And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: +But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, +Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die. + + + +FATE + +Her planted eye to-day controls, +Is in the morrow most at home, +And sternly calls to being souls +That curse her when they come. + + + +HOROSCOPE + +Ere he was born, the stars of fate +Plotted to make him rich and great: +When from the womb the babe was loosed, +The gate of gifts behind him closed. + + + +POWER + +Cast the bantling on the rocks, +Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, +Wintered with the hawk and fox, +Power and speed be hands and feet. + + + +CLIMACTERIC + +I am not wiser for my age, +Nor skilful by my grief; +Life loiters at the book's first page,-- +Ah! could we turn the leaf. + + + +HERI, CRAS, HODIE + +Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, +To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: +Future or Past no richer secret folds, +O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. + + + +MEMORY + +Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall +Shadows of the thoughts of day, +And thy fortunes, as they fall, +The bias of the will betray. + + + +LOVE + +Love on his errand bound to go +Can swim the flood and wade through snow, +Where way is none, 't will creep and wind +And eat through Alps its home to find. + + + +SACRIFICE + +Though love repine, and reason chafe, +There came a voice without reply,-- +''T is man's perdition to be safe, +When for the truth he ought to die.' + + + +PERICLES + +Well and wisely said the Greek, +Be thou faithful, but not fond; +To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,-- +The Furies wait beyond. + + + +CASELLA + +Test of the poet is knowledge of love, +For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; +Never was poet, of late or of yore, +Who was not tremulous with love-lore. + + + +SHAKSPEARE + +I see all human wits +Are measured but a few; +Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, +Lone as the blessed Jew. + + + +HAFIZ + +Her passions the shy violet +From Hafiz never hides; +Love-longings of the raptured bird +The bird to him confides. + + + +NATURE IN LEASTS + +As sings the pine-tree in the wind, +So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; +Her strength and soul has laughing France +Shed in each drop of wine. + + + +[Greek: ADAKRYN NEMONTAI AIONA] + +'A New commandment,' said the smiling Muse, +'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach';-- +Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, +And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore +Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. + + + + +TRANSLATIONS + + + +SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + +Never did sculptor's dream unfold +A form which marble doth not hold +In its white block; yet it therein shall find +Only the hand secure and bold +Which still obeys the mind. +So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, +The ill I shun, the good I claim; +I alas! not well alive, +Miss the aim whereto I strive. +Not love, nor beauty's pride, +Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, +If, whilst within thy heart abide +Both death and pity, my unequal skill +Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. + + + +THE EXILE + +FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI + +In Farsistan the violet spreads +Its leaves to the rival sky; +I ask how far is the Tigris flood, +And the vine that grows thereby? + +Except the amber morning wind, +Not one salutes me here; +There is no lover in all Bagdat +To offer the exile cheer. + +I know that thou, O morning wind! +O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, +And thou, heart-warming nightingale! +My father's orchard knowest. + +The merchant hath stuffs of price, +And gems from the sea-washed strand, +And princes offer me grace +To stay in the Syrian land; + +But what is gold _for_, but for gifts? +And dark, without love, is the day; +And all that I see in Bagdat +Is the Tigris to float me away. + + + +FROM HAFIZ + +I said to heaven that glowed above, +O hide yon sun-filled zone, +Hide all the stars you boast; +For, in the world of love +And estimation true, +The heaped-up harvest of the moon +Is worth one barley-corn at most, +The Pleiads' sheaf but two. + + + +If my darling should depart, +And search the skies for prouder friends, +God forbid my angry heart +In other love should seek amends. + +When the blue horizon's hoop +Me a little pinches here, +Instant to my grave I stoop, +And go find thee in the sphere. + + + +EPITAPH + +Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest +Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; +For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, +She laid a slab of marble on his head. + + + +They say, through patience, chalk +Becomes a ruby stone; +Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood +The chalk is crimson grown. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls +Know the worth of Oman's pearls? +Give the gem which dims the moon +To the noblest, or to none. + + + +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, +Beauty sits and Music calls; +Where thy form and favor come, +All good creatures have their home. + + + +On prince or bride no diamond stone +Half so gracious ever shone, +As the light of enterprise +Beaming from a young man's eyes. + + + +FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + +Each spot where tulips prank their state +Has drunk the life-blood of the great; +The violets yon field which stain +Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. + + + +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art, +Show me the forward way, since thou art guide, +I put no faith in pilot or in chart, +Since they are transient, and thou dost abide. + + + +FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, +And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. + + + +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, +The appointed, and the unappointed day; +On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, +Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay. + + + +FROM IBN JEMIN + +Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;-- +A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; +And the second, borrowed money,--though the smiling lender say +That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. + + + +THE FLUTE + +FROM HILALI + +Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, +Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; +Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,-- +If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I? + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM HAFIZ + +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, +Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +Not in their houses stand the stars, +But o'er the pinnacles of thine! + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, +And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. + + + +SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + + [Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical + dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly + bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he + revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, + as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.] + +Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, +Nor head from foot can I discern, +Nor my heart from love of mine, +Nor the wine-cup from the wine. +All my doing, all my leaving, +Reaches not to my perceiving; +Lost in whirling spheres I rove, +And know only that I love. + + I am seeker of the stone, +Living gem of Solomon; +From the shore of souls arrived, +In the sea of sense I dived; +But what is land, or what is wave, +To me who only jewels crave? +Love is the air-fed fire intense, +And my heart the frankincense; +As the rich aloes flames, I glow, +Yet the censer cannot know. +I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; +Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + Ask not me, as Muftis can, +To recite the Alcoran; +Well I love the meaning sweet,-- +I tread the book beneath my feet. + + Lo! the God's love blazes higher, +Till all difference expire. +What are Moslems? what are Giaours? +All are Love's, and all are ours. +I embrace the true believers, +But I reck not of deceivers. +Firm to Heaven my bosom clings, +Heedless of inferior things; +Down on earth there, underfoot, +What men chatter know I not. + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +APPENDIX + + * * * * * + + + +THE POET + +I + +Right upward on the road of fame +With sounding steps the poet came; +Born and nourished in miracles, +His feet were shod with golden bells, +Or where he stepped the soil did peal +As if the dust were glass and steel. +The gallant child where'er he came +Threw to each fact a tuneful name. +The things whereon he cast his eyes +Could not the nations rebaptize, +Nor Time's snows hide the names he set, +Nor last posterity forget. +Yet every scroll whereon he wrote +In latent fire his secret thought, +Fell unregarded to the ground, +Unseen by such as stood around. +The pious wind took it away, +The reverent darkness hid the lay. +Methought like water-haunting birds +Divers or dippers were his words, +And idle clowns beside the mere +At the new vision gape and jeer. +But when the noisy scorn was past, +Emerge the wingèd words in haste. +New-bathed, new-trimmed, on healthy wing, +Right to the heaven they steer and sing. + +A Brother of the world, his song +Sounded like a tempest strong +Which tore from oaks their branches broad, +And stars from the ecliptic road. +Times wore he as his clothing-weeds, +He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. +As melts the iceberg in the seas, +As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, +As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, +The solid kingdoms like a dream +Resist in vain his motive strain, +They totter now and float amain. +For the Muse gave special charge +His learning should be deep and large, +And his training should not scant +The deepest lore of wealth or want: +His flesh should feel, his eyes should read +Every maxim of dreadful Need; +In its fulness he should taste +Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; +Full fed, but not intoxicated; +He should be loved; he should be hated; +A blooming child to children dear, +His heart should palpitate with fear. + +And well he loved to quit his home +And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam +To read new landscapes and old skies;-- +But oh, to see his solar eyes +Like meteors which chose their way +And rived the dark like a new day! +Not lazy grazing on all they saw, +Each chimney-pot and cottage door, +Farm-gear and village picket-fence, +But, feeding on magnificence, +They bounded to the horizon's edge +And searched with the sun's privilege. +Landward they reached the mountains old +Where pastoral tribes their flocks infold, +Saw rivers run seaward by cities high +And the seas wash the low-hung sky; +Saw the endless rack of the firmament +And the sailing moon where the cloud was rent, +And through man and woman and sea and star +Saw the dance of Nature forward and far, +Through worlds and races and terms and times +Saw musical order and pairing rhymes. + +II + +The gods talk in the breath of the woods, +They talk in the shaken pine, +And fill the long reach of the old seashore +With dialogue divine; +And the poet who overhears +Some random word they say +Is the fated man of men +Whom the ages must obey: +One who having nectar drank +Into blissful orgies sank; +He takes no mark of night or day, +He cannot go, he cannot stay, +He would, yet would not, counsel keep, +But, like a walker in his sleep +With staring eye that seeth none, +Ridiculously up and down +Seeks how he may fitly tell +The heart-o'erlading miracle. + +Not yet, not yet, +Impatient friend,-- +A little while attend; +Not yet I sing: but I must wait, +My hand upon the silent string, +Fully until the end. +I see the coming light, +I see the scattered gleams, +Aloft, beneath, on left and right +The stars' own ether beams; +These are but seeds of days, +Not yet a steadfast morn, +An intermittent blaze, +An embryo god unborn. + +How all things sparkle, +The dust is alive, +To the birth they arrive: +I snuff the breath of my morning afar, +I see the pale lustres condense to a star: +The fading colors fix, +The vanishing are seen, +And the world that shall be +Twins the world that has been. +I know the appointed hour, +I greet my office well, +Never faster, never slower +Revolves the fatal wheel! +The Fairest enchants me, +The Mighty commands me, +Saying, 'Stand in thy place; +Up and eastward turn thy face; +As mountains for the morning wait, +Coming early, coming late, +So thou attend the enriching Fate +Which none can stay, and none accelerate. +I am neither faint nor weary, +Fill thy will, O faultless heart! +Here from youth to age I tarry,-- +Count it flight of bird or dart. +My heart at the heart of things +Heeds no longer lapse of time, +Rushing ages moult their wings, +Bathing in thy day sublime. + +The sun set, but set not his hope:-- +Stars rose, his faith was earlier up: +Fixed on the enormous galaxy, +Deeper and older seemed his eye, +And matched his sufferance sublime +The taciturnity of Time. + +Beside his hut and shading oak, +Thus to himself the poet spoke, +'I have supped to-night with gods, +I will not go under a wooden roof: +As I walked among the hills +In the love which Nature fills, +The great stars did not shine aloof, +They hurried down from their deep abodes +And hemmed me in their glittering troop. + + 'Divine Inviters! I accept +The courtesy ye have shown and kept +From ancient ages for the bard, +To modulate +With finer fate +A fortune harsh and hard. +With aim like yours +I watch your course, +Who never break your lawful dance +By error or intemperance. +O birds of ether without wings! +O heavenly ships without a sail! +O fire of fire! O best of things! +O mariners who never fail! +Sail swiftly through your amber vault, +An animated law, a presence to exalt.' + +Ah, happy if a sun or star +Could chain the wheel of Fortune's car, +And give to hold an even state, +Neither dejected nor elate, +That haply man upraised might keep +The height of Fancy's far-eyed steep. +In vain: the stars are glowing wheels, +Giddy with motion Nature reels, +Sun, moon, man, undulate and stream, +The mountains flow, the solids seem, +Change acts, reacts; back, forward hurled, +And pause were palsy to the world.-- +The morn is come: the starry crowds +Are hid behind the thrice-piled clouds; +The new day lowers, and equal odds +Have changed not less the guest of gods; +Discrowned and timid, thoughtless, worn, +The child of genius sits forlorn: +Between two sleeps a short day's stealth, +'Mid many ails a brittle health, +A cripple of God, half true, half formed, +And by great sparks Promethean warmed, +Constrained by impotence to adjourn +To infinite time his eager turn, +His lot of action at the urn. +He by false usage pinned about +No breath therein, no passage out, +Cast wishful glances at the stars +And wishful saw the Ocean stream:-- +'Merge me in the brute universe, +Or lift to a diviner dream!' + +Beside him sat enduring love, +Upon him noble eyes did rest, +Which, for the Genius that there strove. +The follies bore that it invest. +They spoke not, for their earnest sense +Outran the craft of eloquence. + +He whom God had thus preferred,-- +To whom sweet angels ministered, +Saluted him each morn as brother, +And bragged his virtues to each other,-- +Alas! how were they so beguiled, +And they so pure? He, foolish child, +A facile, reckless, wandering will, +Eager for good, not hating ill, +Thanked Nature for each stroke she dealt; +On his tense chords all strokes were felt, +The good, the bad with equal zeal, +He asked, he only asked, to feel. +Timid, self-pleasing, sensitive, +With Gods, with fools, content to live; +Bended to fops who bent to him; +Surface with surfaces did swim. + +'Sorrow, sorrow!' the angels cried, +'Is this dear Nature's manly pride? +Call hither thy mortal enemy, +Make him glad thy fall to see! +Yon waterflag, yon sighing osier, +A drop can shake, a breath can fan; +Maidens laugh and weep; Composure +Is the pudency of man,' + +Again by night the poet went +From the lighted halls +Beneath the darkling firmament +To the seashore, to the old seawalls, +Out shone a star beneath the cloud, +The constellation glittered soon,-- +You have no lapse; so have ye glowed +But once in your dominion. +And yet, dear stars, I know ye shine +Only by needs and loves of mine; +Light-loving, light-asking life in me +Feeds those eternal lamps I see. +And I to whom your light has spoken, +I, pining to be one of you, +I fall, my faith is broken, +Ye scorn me from your deeps of blue. +Or if perchance, ye orbs of Fate, +Your ne'er averted glance +Beams with a will compassionate +On sons of time and chance, +Then clothe these hands with power +In just proportion, +Nor plant immense designs +Where equal means are none.' + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS + +Means, dear brother, ask them not; + Soul's desire is means enow, +Pure content is angel's lot, + Thine own theatre art thou. + +Gentler far than falls the snow +In the woodwalks still and low +Fell the lesson on his heart +And woke the fear lest angels part. + +POET + +I see your forms with deep content, +I know that ye are excellent, + But will ye stay? +I hear the rustle of wings, +Ye meditate what to say +Ere ye go to quit me for ever and aye. + +SPIRITS + +Brother, we are no phantom band; +Brother, accept this fatal hand. +Aches thine unbelieving heart +With the fear that we must part? +See, all we are rooted here +By one thought to one same sphere; +From thyself thou canst not flee,-- +From thyself no more can we. + +POET + +Suns and stars their courses keep, +But not angels of the deep: +Day and night their turn observe, +But the day of day may swerve. +Is there warrant that the waves +Of thought in their mysterious caves +Will heap in me their highest tide, +In me therewith beatified? +Unsure the ebb and flood of thought, +The moon comes back,--the Spirit not. + +SPIRITS + +Brother, sweeter is the Law +Than all the grace Love ever saw; +We are its suppliants. By it, we +Draw the breath of Eternity; +Serve thou it not for daily bread,-- +Serve it for pain and fear and need. +Love it, though it hide its light; +By love behold the sun at night. +If the Law should thee forget, +More enamoured serve it yet; +Though it hate thee, suffer long; +Put the Spirit in the wrong; +Brother, no decrepitude + Chills the limbs of Time; +As fleet his feet, his hands as good, + His vision as sublime: +On Nature's wheels there is no rust; +Nor less on man's enchanted dust + Beauty and Force alight. + + + +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + +I + +There are beggars in Iran and Araby, +SAID was hungrier than all; +Hafiz said he was a fly +That came to every festival. +He came a pilgrim to the Mosque +On trail of camel and caravan, +Knew every temple and kiosk +Out from Mecca to Ispahan; +Northward he went to the snowy hills, +At court he sat in the grave Divan. +His music was the south-wind's sigh, +His lamp, the maiden's downcast eye, +And ever the spell of beauty came +And turned the drowsy world to flame. +By lake and stream and gleaming hall +And modest copse and the forest tall, +Where'er he went, the magic guide +Kept its place by the poet's side. +Said melted the days like cups of pearl, +Served high and low, the lord and the churl, +Loved harebells nodding on a rock, +A cabin hung with curling smoke, +Ring of axe or hum of wheel +Or gleam which use can paint on steel, +And huts and tents; nor loved he less +Stately lords in palaces, +Princely women hard to please, +Fenced by form and ceremony, +Decked by courtly rites and dress +And etiquette of gentilesse. +But when the mate of the snow and wind, +He left each civil scale behind: +Him wood-gods fed with honey wild +And of his memory beguiled. +He loved to watch and wake +When the wing of the south-wind whipt the lake +And the glassy surface in ripples brake +And fled in pretty frowns away +Like the flitting boreal lights, +Rippling roses in northern nights, +Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings +In which the sudden wind-god rings. +In caves and hollow trees he crept +And near the wolf and panther slept. +He came to the green ocean's brim +And saw the wheeling sea-birds skim, +Summer and winter, o'er the wave, +Like creatures of a skiey mould, +Impassible to heat or cold. +He stood before the tumbling main +With joy too tense for sober brain; +He shared the life of the element, +The tie of blood and home was rent: +As if in him the welkin walked, +The winds took flesh, the mountains talked, +And he the bard, a crystal soul +Sphered and concentric with the whole. + +II + +The Dervish whined to Said, +"Thou didst not tarry while I prayed. +Beware the fire that Eblis burned," +But Saadi coldly thus returned, +"Once with manlike love and fear +I gave thee for an hour my ear, +I kept the sun and stars at bay, +And love, for words thy tongue could say. +I cannot sell my heaven again +For all that rattles in thy brain." + +III + +Said Saadi, "When I stood before +Hassan the camel-driver's door, +I scorned the fame of Timour brave; +Timour, to Hassan, was a slave. +In every glance of Hassan's eye +I read great years of victory, +And I, who cower mean and small +In the frequent interval +When wisdom not with me resides, +Worship Toil's wisdom that abides. +I shunned his eyes, that faithful man's, +I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance." + +IV + +The civil world will much forgive +To bards who from its maxims live, +But if, grown bold, the poet dare +Bend his practice to his prayer +And following his mighty heart +Shame the times and live apart,-- +_Vae solis!_ I found this, +That of goods I could not miss +If I fell within the line, +Once a member, all was mine, +Houses, banquets, gardens, fountains, +Fortune's delectable mountains; +But if I would walk alone, +Was neither cloak nor crumb my own. +And thus the high Muse treated me, +Directly never greeted me, +But when she spread her dearest spells, +Feigned to speak to some one else. +I was free to overhear, +Or I might at will forbear; +Yet mark me well, that idle word +Thus at random overheard +Was the symphony of spheres, +And proverb of a thousand years, +The light wherewith all planets shone, +The livery all events put on, +It fell in rain, it grew in grain, +It put on flesh in friendly form, +Frowned in my foe and growled in storm, +It spoke in Tullius Cicero, +In Milton and in Angelo: +I travelled and found it at Rome; +Eastward it filled all Heathendom +And it lay on my hearth when I came home. + +V + +Mask thy wisdom with delight, +Toy with the bow, yet hit the white, +As Jelaleddin old and gray; +He seemed to bask, to dream and play +Without remoter hope or fear +Than still to entertain his ear +And pass the burning summer-time +In the palm-grove with a rhyme; +Heedless that each cunning word +Tribes and ages overheard: +Those idle catches told the laws +Holding Nature to her cause. + +God only knew how Saadi dined; +Roses he ate, and drank the wind; +He freelier breathed beside the pine, +In cities he was low and mean; +The mountain waters washed him clean +And by the sea-waves he was strong; +He heard their medicinal song, +Asked no physician but the wave, +No palace but his sea-beat cave. + +Saadi held the Muse in awe, +She was his mistress and his law; +A twelvemonth he could silence hold, +Nor ran to speak till she him told; +He felt the flame, the fanning wings, +Nor offered words till they were things, +Glad when the solid mountain swims +In music and uplifting hymns. + +Charmed from fagot and from steel, +Harvests grew upon his tongue, +Past and future must reveal +All their heart when Saadi sung; +Sun and moon must fall amain +Like sower's seeds into his brain, +There quickened to be born again. + +The free winds told him what they knew, +Discoursed of fortune as they blew; +Omens and signs that filled the air +To him authentic witness bare; +The birds brought auguries on their wings, +And carolled undeceiving things +Him to beckon, him to warn; +Well might then the poet scorn +To learn of scribe or courier +Things writ in vaster character; +And on his mind at dawn of day +Soft shadows of the evening lay. + + * * * + +Pale genius roves alone, +No scout can track his way, +None credits him till he have shown +His diamonds to the day. + +Not his the feaster's wine, +Nor land, nor gold, nor power, +By want and pain God screeneth him +Till his elected hour. + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals:-- +The sower scatters broad his seed, +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +I grieve that better souls than mine +Docile read my measured line: +High destined youths and holy maids +Hallow these my orchard shades; +Environ me and me baptize +With light that streams from gracious eyes. +I dare not be beloved and known, +I ungrateful, I alone. + +Ever find me dim regards, +Love of ladies, love of bards, +Marked forbearance, compliments, +Tokens of benevolence. +What then, can I love myself? +Fame is profitless as pelf, +A good in Nature not allowed +They love me, as I love a cloud +Sailing falsely in the sphere, +Hated mist if it come near. + + + +For thought, and not praise; +Thought is the wages +For which I sell days, +Will gladly sell ages +And willing grow old +Deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold, +Melting matter into dreams, +Panoramas which I saw +And whatever glows or seems +Into substance, into Law. + + + +For Fancy's gift +Can mountains lift; +The Muse can knit +What is past, what is done, +With the web that's just begun; +Making free with time and size, +Dwindles here, there magnifies, +Swells a rain-drop to a tun; +So to repeat +No word or feat +Crowds in a day the sum of ages, +And blushing Love outwits the sages. + + + +Try the might the Muse affords +And the balm of thoughtful words; +Bring music to the desolate; +Hang roses on the stony fate. + + + +But over all his crowning grace, +Wherefor thanks God his daily praise, +Is the purging of his eye +To see the people of the sky: +From blue mount and headland dim +Friendly hands stretch forth to him, +Him they beckon, him advise +Of heavenlier prosperities +And a more excelling grace +And a truer bosom-glow +Than the wine-fed feasters know. +They turn his heart from lovely maids, +And make the darlings of the earth +Swainish, coarse and nothing worth: +Teach him gladly to postpone +Pleasures to another stage +Beyond the scope of human age, +Freely as task at eve undone +Waits unblamed to-morrow's sun. + + + +By thoughts I lead +Bards to say what nations need; +What imports, what irks and what behooves, +Framed afar as Fates and Loves. + + + +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, +So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. + + + +I framed his tongue to music, + I armed his hand with skill, +I moulded his face to beauty + And his heart the throne of Will. + + + +For every God +Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. + + + +For art, for music over-thrilled, +The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. + + + +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; +Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. + + + +That book is good +Which puts me in a working mood. + Unless to Thought is added Will, + Apollo is an imbecile. +What parts, what gems, what colors shine,-- +Ah, but I miss the grand design. + + + +Like vaulters in a circus round +Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. + + + +For Genius made his cabin wide, +And Love led Gods therein to bide. + + + +The atom displaces all atoms beside, +And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. + + + +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. + + + +He could condense cerulean ether +Into the very best sole-leather. + + + +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, +In mercy, on one little head. + + + +I have no brothers and no peers, +And the dearest interferes: +When I would spend a lonely day, +Sun and moon are in my way. + + + +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +Wanting the echo in my brain. + + + +He planted where the deluge ploughed. +His hired hands were wind and cloud; +His eyes detect the Gods concealed +In the hummock of the field. + + + +For what need I of book or priest, +Or sibyl from the mummied East, +When every star is Bethlehem star? +I count as many as there are +Cinquefoils or violets in the grass, +So many saints and saviors, +So many high behaviors +Salute the bard who is alive +And only sees what he doth give. + + + +Coin the day-dawn into lines +In which its proper splendor shines; +Coin the moonlight into verse +Which all its marvel shall rehearse, +Chasing with words fast-flowing things; nor try +To plant thy shrivelled pedantry +On the shoulders of the sky. + + + +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +A better voice peals through my song. + + + +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, +A bolder foot is still rewarded. + + + +His instant thought a poet spoke, +And filled the age his fame; +An inch of ground the lightning strook +But lit the sky with flame. + + + +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; +And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. + + + +The Asmodean feat is mine, +To spin my sand-heap into twine. + + + +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue, +But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. + + + + +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + + +NATURE + + + +The patient Pan, +Drunken with nectar, +Sleeps or feigns slumber, +Drowsily humming +Music to the march of time. +This poor tooting, creaking cricket, +Pan, half asleep, rolling over +His great body in the grass, +Tooting, creaking, +Feigns to sleep, sleeping never; +'T is his manner, +Well he knows his own affair, +Piling mountain chains of phlegm +On the nervous brain of man, +As he holds down central fires +Under Alps and Andes cold; +Haply else we could not live, +Life would be too wild an ode. + + + +Come search the wood for flowers,-- +Wild tea and wild pea, +Grapevine and succory, +Coreopsis +And liatris, +Flaunting in their bowers; +Grass with green flag half-mast high, +Succory to match the sky, +Columbine with horn of honey, +Scented fern and agrimony; +Forest full of essences +Fit for fairy presences, +Peppermint and sassafras, +Sweet fern, mint and vernal grass, +Panax, black birch, sugar maple, +Sweet and scent for Dian's table, +Elder-blow, sarsaparilla, +Wild rose, lily, dry vanilla,-- +Spices in the plants that run +To bring their first fruits to the sun. +Earliest heats that follow frore +Nervèd leaf of hellebore, +Sweet willow, checkerberry red, +With its savory leaf for bread. +Silver birch and black +With the selfsame spice +Found in polygala root and rind, +Sassafras, fern, benzöine, +Mouse-ear, cowslip, wintergreen, +Which by aroma may compel +The frost to spare, what scents so well. + + + +Where the fungus broad and red +Lifts its head, +Like poisoned loaf of elfin bread, +Where the aster grew +With the social goldenrod, +In a chapel, which the dew +Made beautiful for God:-- +O what would Nature say? +She spared no speech to-day: +The fungus and the bulrush spoke, +Answered the pine-tree and the oak, +The wizard South blew down the glen, +Filled the straits and filled the wide, +Each maple leaf turned up its silver side. +All things shine in his smoky ray, +And all we see are pictures high; +Many a high hillside, +While oaks of pride +Climb to their tops, +And boys run out upon their leafy ropes. +The maple street +In the houseless wood, +Voices followed after, +Every shrub and grape leaf +Rang with fairy laughter. +I have heard them fall +Like the strain of all +King Oberon's minstrelsy. +Would hear the everlasting +And know the only strong? +You must worship fasting, +You must listen long. +Words of the air +Which birds of the air +Carry aloft, below, around, +To the isles of the deep, +To the snow-capped steep, +To the thundercloud. + + + +For Nature, true and like in every place, +Will hint her secret in a garden patch, +Or in lone corners of a doleful heath, +As in the Andes watched by fleets at sea, +Or the sky-piercing horns of Himmaleh; +And, when I would recall the scenes I dreamed +On Adirondac steeps, I know +Small need have I of Turner or Daguerre, +Assured to find the token once again +In silver lakes that unexhausted gleam +And peaceful woods beside my cottage door. + + + +What all the books of ages paint, I have. +What prayers and dreams of youthful genius feign, +I daily dwell in, and am not so blind +But I can see the elastic tent of day +Belike has wider hospitality +Than my few needs exhaust, and bids me read +The quaint devices on its mornings gay. +Yet Nature will not be in full possessed, +And they who truliest love her, heralds are +And harbingers of a majestic race, +Who, having more absorbed, more largely yield, +And walk on earth as the sun walks in the sphere. + + + +But never yet the man was found +Who could the mystery expound, +Though Adam, born when oaks were young, +Endured, the Bible says, as long; +But when at last the patriarch died +The Gordian noose was still untied. +He left, though goodly centuries old, +Meek Nature's secret still untold. + + + +Atom from atom yawns as far +As moon from earth, or star from star. + + + +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + To deck the morning of the year, +Why tinge thy lustres jubilant + With forecast or with fear? + +Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, +Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die. + + + +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +To use my land to put his rainbows in. + + + +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, +And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. + + + +What central flowing forces, say, +Make up thy splendor, matchless day? + + + +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more; +In her hundred-gated Thebes every chamber was a door, +A door to something grander,--loftier walls, and vaster floor. + + + +She paints with white and red the moors +To draw the nations out of doors. + + + +A score of airy miles will smooth +Rough Monadnoc to a gem. + + + +THE EARTH + +Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar +Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. + + + +THE HEAVENS + +Wisp and meteor nightly falling, +But the Stars of God remain. + + + +TRANSITION + +See yonder leafless trees against the sky, +How they diffuse themselves into the air, +And, ever subdividing, separate +Limbs into branches, branches into twigs. +As if they loved the element, and hasted +To dissipate their being into it. + + + +Parks and ponds are good by day; +I do not delight +In black acres of the night, +Nor my unseasoned step disturbs +The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs. + + + +In Walden wood the chickadee +Runs round the pine and maple tree +Intent on insect slaughter: +O tufted entomologist! +Devour as many as you list, +Then drink in Walden water. + + + +The low December vault in June be lifted high, +And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. + + + +THE GARDEN + +Many things the garden shows, +And pleased I stray +From tree to tree +Watching the white pear-bloom, +Bee-infested quince or plum. +I could walk days, years, away +Till the slow ripening, secular tree +Had reached its fruiting-time, +Nor think it long. + + + +Solar insect on the wing +In the garden murmuring, +Soothing with thy summer horn +Swains by winter pinched and worn. + + + +BIRDS + +Darlings of children and of bard, +Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, +All of worth and beauty set +Gems in Nature's cabinet; +These the fables she esteems +Reality most like to dreams. +Welcome back, you little nations, +Far-travelled in the south plantations; +Bring your music and rhythmic flight, +Your colors for our eyes' delight: +Freely nestle in our roof, +Weave your chamber weatherproof; +And your enchanting manners bring +And your autumnal gathering. +Exchange in conclave general +Greetings kind to each and all, +Conscious each of duty done +And unstainèd as the sun. + + + +WATER + +The water understands +Civilization well; +It wets my foot, but prettily +It chills my life, but wittily, +It is not disconcerted, +It is not broken-hearted: +Well used, it decketh joy, +Adorneth, doubleth joy: +Ill used, it will destroy, +In perfect time and measure +With a face of golden pleasure +Elegantly destroy. + + + +NAHANT + +All day the waves assailed the rock, + I heard no church-bell chime, +The sea-beat scorns the minster clock + And breaks the glass of Time. + + + +SUNRISE + +Would you know what joy is hid +In our green Musketaquid, +And for travelled eyes what charms +Draw us to these meadow farms, +Come and I will show you all +Makes each day a festival. +Stand upon this pasture hill, +Face the eastern star until +The slow eye of heaven shall show +The world above, the world below. + +Behold the miracle! +Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad +And stood beneath the firmament, +A watchman in a dark gray tent, +Waiting till God create the earth,-- +Behold the new majestic birth! +The mottled clouds, like scraps of wool, +Steeped in the light are beautiful. +What majestic stillness broods +Over these colored solitudes. +Sleeps the vast East in pleasèd peace, +Up the far mountain walls the streams increase +Inundating the heaven +With spouting streams and waves of light +Which round the floating isles unite:-- +See the world below +Baptized with the pure element, +A clear and glorious firmament +Touched with life by every beam. +I share the good with every flower, +I drink the nectar of the hour:-- +This is not the ancient earth +Whereof old chronicles relate +The tragic tales of crime and fate; +But rather, like its beads of dew +And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, +An exhalation of the time. + + * * * + + + +NIGHT IN JUNE + +I left my dreary page and sallied forth, +Received the fair inscriptions of the night; +The moon was making amber of the world, +Glittered with silver every cottage pane, +The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom. + The meadows broad +From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers +Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies +Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court +In fairy groves of herds-grass. + + + +He lives not who can refuse me; +All my force saith, Come and use me: +A gleam of sun, a summer rain, +And all the zone is green again. + + + +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, +Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, +As if on such stern forms and haunts +A wintry storm more fitly fell. + + + +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges +And split to flakes the crystal ledges. + + + +MAIA + +Illusion works impenetrable, +Weaving webs innumerable, +Her gay pictures never fail, +Crowds each on other, veil on veil, +Charmer who will be believed +By man who thirsts to be deceived. + + + +Illusions like the tints of pearl, +Or changing colors of the sky, +Or ribbons of a dancing girl +That mend her beauty to the eye. + + + +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon +To share the sunshine that so spicy is. + + + +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, +Gropes for columns strong as he; +When his ringlets grew and curled, +Groped for axle of the world. + + + +But Nature whistled with all her winds, +Did as she pleased and went her way. + + + +LIFE + + + +A train of gay and clouded days +Dappled with joy and grief and praise, +Beauty to fire us, saints to save, +Escort us to a little grave. + + + +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, +For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, +So guilt not traverses his tender will. + + + +Around the man who seeks a noble end, +Not angels but divinities attend. + + + +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, +The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. + + + +This shining moment is an edifice +Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. + + + +Roomy Eternity +Casts her schemes rarely, +And an aeon allows +For each quality and part +Of the multitudinous +And many-chambered heart. + + + +The beggar begs by God's command, +And gifts awake when givers sleep, +Swords cannot cut the giving hand +Nor stab the love that orphans keep. + + + +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come +Lemurs and Lars. + + + +Such another peerless queen +Only could her mirror show. + + + +Easy to match what others do, +Perform the feat as well as they; +Hard to out-do the brave, the true, +And find a loftier way: +The school decays, the learning spoils +Because of the sons of wine; +How snatch the stripling from their toils?-- +Yet can one ray of truth divine +The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine. + + + +Of all wit's uses the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +The tongue is prone to lose the way, + Not so the pen, for in a letter +We have not better things to say, + But surely say them better. + + + +She walked in flowers around my field +As June herself around the sphere. + + + +Friends to me are frozen wine; +I wait the sun on them should shine. + + + +You shall not love me for what daily spends; +You shall not know me in the noisy street, +Where I, as others, follow petty ends; +Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; +Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean. +But love me then and only, when you know +Me for the channel of the rivers of God +From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow. + + + +To and fro the Genius flies, + A light which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head +And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. +Of her faults I take no note, + Fault and folly are not mine; +Comes the Genius,--all's forgot, +Replunged again into that upper sphere +He scatters wide and wild its lustres here. + + + +Love +Asks nought his brother cannot give; +Asks nothing, but does all receive. +Love calls not to his aid events; +He to his wants can well suffice: +Asks not of others soft consents, +Nor kind occasion without eyes; +Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, +Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,-- +Where he goes, goes before him Fate; +Whom he uniteth, God installs; +Instant and perfect his access +To the dear object of his thought, +Though foes and land and seas between +Himself and his love intervene. + + + +The brave Empedocles, defying fools, +Pronounced the word that mortals hate to hear-- +"I am divine, I am not mortal made; +I am superior to my human weeds." +Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; +Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; +That human part may be described and taught, +The other portion language cannot speak. + + + +Tell men what they knew before; +Paint the prospect from their door. + + + +Him strong Genius urged to roam, +Stronger Custom brought him home. + + + +That each should in his house abide. +Therefore was the world so wide. + + + +Thou shalt make thy house +The temple of a nation's vows. +Spirits of a higher strain +Who sought thee once shall seek again. +I detected many a god +Forth already on the road, +Ancestors of beauty come +In thy breast to make a home. + + + +The archangel Hope +Looks to the azure cope, +Waits through dark ages for the morn, +Defeated day by day, but unto victory born. + +As the drop feeds its fated flower, +As finds its Alp the snowy shower, +Child of the omnific Need, +Hurled into life to do a deed, +Man drinks the water, drinks the light. + + + +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, +To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. + + + +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; +I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. + + + +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken +Shall his own sorrow seem impertinent, +A thing that takes no more root in the world +Than doth the traveller's shadow on the rock. + + + +But if thou do thy best, +Without remission, without rest, +And invite the sunbeam, +And abhor to feign or seem +Even to those who thee should love +And thy behavior approve; +If thou go in thine own likeness, +Be it health, or be it sickness; +If thou go as thy father's son, +If thou wear no mask or lie, +Dealing purely and nakedly,-- + + * * * + + + +Ascending thorough just degrees +To a consummate holiness, +As angel blind to trespass done, +And bleaching all souls like the sun. + + + +From the stores of eldest matter, +The deep-eyed flame, obedient water, +Transparent air, all-feeding earth, +He took the flower of all their worth, +And, best with best in sweet consent, +Combined a new temperament. + + + +REX + +The bard and mystic held me for their own, +I filled the dream of sad, poetic maids, +I took the friendly noble by the hand, +I was the trustee of the hand-cart man, +The brother of the fisher, porter, swain, +And these from the crowd's edge well pleased beheld +The service done to me as done to them. + + + +With the key of the secret he marches faster, + From strength to strength, and for night brings day; +While classes or tribes, too weak to master + The flowing conditions of life, give way. + + + +SUUM CUIQUE + +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. + + + +If curses be the wage of love, +Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, + Not to be named: + It is clear + Why the gods will not appear; + They are ashamed. + + + +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, +And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. + + + +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, + Sit still and Truth is near: +Suddenly it will uplift + Your eyelids to the sphere: +Wait a little, you shall see +The portraiture of things to be. + + + +The rules to men made evident +By Him who built the day, +The columns of the firmament +Not firmer based than they. + + + +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! +Time hath his work to do and we have ours. + + + +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + +In many forms we try +To utter God's infinity, +But the boundless hath no form, +And the Universal Friend +Doth as far transcend +An angel as a worm. + +The great Idea baffles wit, +Language falters under it, +It leaves the learned in the lurch; +Nor art, nor power, nor toil can find +The measure of the eternal Mind, +Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. + + + +GRACE + +How much, preventing God, how much I owe +To the defences thou hast round me set; +Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,-- +These scorned bondmen were my parapet. +I dare not peep over this parapet +To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, +The depths of sin to which I had descended, +Had not these me against myself defended. + + + +INSIGHT + +Power that by obedience grows, +Knowledge which its source not knows, +Wave which severs whom it bears +From the things which he compares, +Adding wings through things to range, +To his own blood harsh and strange. + + + +PAN + +O what are heroes, prophets, men, +But pipes through which the breath of Pan doth blow +A momentary music. Being's tide +Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms +Live, robed with beauty, painted by the sun; +Their dust, pervaded by the nerves of God, +Throbs with an overmastering energy +Knowing and doing. Ebbs the tide, they lie +White hollow shells upon the desert shore, +But not the less the eternal wave rolls on +To animate new millions, and exhale +Races and planets, its enchanted foam. + + + +MONADNOC FROM AFAR + +Dark flower of Cheshire garden, + Red evening duly dyes +Thy sombre head with rosy hues + To fix far-gazing eyes. +Well the Planter knew how strongly + Works thy form on human thought; +I muse what secret purpose had he + To draw all fancies to this spot. + + + +SEPTEMBER + +In the turbulent beauty + Of a gusty Autumn day, +Poet on a sunny headland + Sighed his soul away. + +Farms the sunny landscape dappled, + Swandown clouds dappled the farms, +Cattle lowed in mellow distance + Where far oaks outstretched their arms. + +Sudden gusts came full of meaning, + All too much to him they said, +Oh, south winds have long memories, + Of that be none afraid. + +I cannot tell rude listeners + Half the tell-tale South-wind said,-- +'T would bring the blushes of yon maples + To a man and to a maid. + + + +EROS + +They put their finger on their lip, + The Powers above: + The seas their islands clip, + The moons in ocean dip, +They love, but name not love. + + + +OCTOBER + + October woods wherein +The boy's dream comes to pass, +And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, +And crowns him with a more than royal crown, +And unimagined splendor waits his steps. +The gazing urchin walks through tents of gold, +Through crimson chambers, porphyry and pearl, +Pavilion on pavilion, garlanded, +Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, +Color and sound, music to eye and ear, +Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. + + + +PETER'S FIELD + +[Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, +What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn?] + +That field by spirits bad and good, + By Hell and Heaven is haunted, +And every rood in the hemlock wood + I know is ground enchanted. + +[In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts: +I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts.] + +For in those lonely grounds the sun + Shines not as on the town, +In nearer arcs his journeys run, + And nearer stoops the moon. + +There in a moment I have seen + The buried Past arise; +The fields of Thessaly grew green, + Old gods forsook the skies. + +I cannot publish in my rhyme + What pranks the greenwood played; +It was the Carnival of time, + And Ages went or stayed. + +To me that spectral nook appeared + The mustering Day of Doom, +And round me swarmed in shadowy troop + Things past and things to come. + +The darkness haunteth me elsewhere; + There I am full of light; +In every whispering leaf I hear + More sense than sages write. + +Underwoods were full of pleasance, + All to each in kindness bend, +And every flower made obeisance + As a man unto his friend. + +Far seen, the river glides below, + Tossing one sparkle to the eyes: +I catch thy meaning, wizard wave; + The River of my Life replies. + + + +MUSIC + +Let me go where'er I will, +I hear a sky-born music still: +It sounds from all things old, +It sounds from all things young, +From all that's fair, from all that's foul, +Peals out a cheerful song. + +It is not only in the rose, +It is not only in the bird, +Not only where the rainbow glows, +Nor in the song of woman heard, +But in the darkest, meanest things +There alway, alway something sings. + +'T is not in the high stars alone, +Nor in the cup of budding flowers, +Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, +Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, +But in the mud and scum of things +There alway, alway something sings. + + + +THE WALK + +A Queen rejoices in her peers, +And wary Nature knows her own +By court and city, dale and down, +And like a lover volunteers, +And to her son will treasures more +And more to purpose freely pour +In one wood walk, than learned men +Can find with glass in ten times ten. + + + +COSMOS + +Who saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, +Or who can date the morning. + The purple flaming of love? + +I saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, +And I can date the morning prime + And purple flame of love. + +Song breathed from all the forest, + The total air was fame; +It seemed the world was all torches + That suddenly caught the flame. + + * * * + +Is there never a retroscope mirror + In the realms and corners of space +That can give us a glimpse of the battle + And the soldiers face to face? + +Sit here on the basalt courses + Where twisted hills betray +The seat of the world-old Forces + Who wrestled here on a day. + + * * * + +When the purple flame shoots up, + And Love ascends his throne, +I cannot hear your songs, O birds, + For the witchery of my own. + +And every human heart + Still keeps that golden day +And rings the bells of jubilee + On its own First of May. + + + +THE MIRACLE + +I have trod this path a hundred times +With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. +I know each nest and web-worm's tent, +The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, +Maple and oak, the old Divan +Self-planted twice, like the banian. +I know not why I came again +Unless to learn it ten times ten. +To read the sense the woods impart +You must bring the throbbing heart. +Love is aye the counterforce,-- +Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, +Newest knowledge, fiery thought, +Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. + Wandering yester morn the brake, +I reached this heath beside the lake, +And oh, the wonder of the power, +The deeper secret of the hour! +Nature, the supplement of man, +His hidden sense interpret can;-- +What friend to friend cannot convey +Shall the dumb bird instructed say. +Passing yonder oak, I heard +Sharp accents of my woodland bird; +I watched the singer with delight,-- +But mark what changed my joy to fright,-- +When that bird sang, I gave the theme; +That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, +A brown wren was the Daniel +That pierced my trance its drift to tell, +Knew my quarrel, how and why, +Published it to lake and sky, +Told every word and syllable +In his flippant chirping babble, +All my wrath and all my shames, +Nay, God is witness, gave the names. + + + +THE WATERFALL + +A patch of meadow upland + Reached by a mile of road, +Soothed by the voice of waters, + With birds and flowers bestowed. + +Hither I come for strength + Which well it can supply, +For Love draws might from terrene force + And potencies of sky. + +The tremulous battery Earth + Responds to the touch of man; +It thrills to the antipodes, + From Boston to Japan. + +The planets' child the planet knows + And to his joy replies; +To the lark's trill unfolds the rose, + Clouds flush their gayest dyes. + +When Ali prayed and loved + Where Syrian waters roll, +Upward the ninth heaven thrilled and moved; + At the tread of the jubilant soul. + + + +WALDEN + +In my garden three ways meet, + Thrice the spot is blest; +Hermit-thrush comes there to build, + Carrier-doves to nest. + +There broad-armed oaks, the copses' maze, + The cold sea-wind detain; +Here sultry Summer overstays + When Autumn chills the plain. + +Self-sown my stately garden grows; + The winds and wind-blown seed, +Cold April rain and colder snows + My hedges plant and feed. + +From mountains far and valleys near + The harvests sown to-day +Thrive in all weathers without fear,-- + Wild planters, plant away! + +In cities high the careful crowds + Of woe-worn mortals darkling go, +But in these sunny solitudes + My quiet roses blow. + +Methought the sky looked scornful down + On all was base in man, +And airy tongues did taunt the town, + 'Achieve our peace who can!' + +What need I holier dew + Than Walden's haunted wave, +Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, + Steeped in each forest cave? + +[If Thought unlock her mysteries, + If Friendship on me smile, +I walk in marble galleries, + I talk with kings the while.] + +How drearily in College hall + The Doctor stretched the hours, +But in each pause we heard the call + Of robins out of doors. + +The air is wise, the wind thinks well, + And all through which it blows, +If plants or brain, if egg or shell, + Or bird or biped knows; + +And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed, + I heed how wears the day; +We must not halt while fiercely speed + The spans of life away. + +What boots it here of Thebes or Rome + Or lands of Eastern day? +In forests I am still at home + And there I cannot stray. + + + +THE ENCHANTER + +In the deep heart of man a poet dwells +Who all the day of life his summer story tells; +Scatters on every eye dust of his spells, +Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells +Wins the believing child with wondrous tales; +Touches a cheek with colors of romance, +And crowds a history into a glance; +Gives beauty to the lake and fountain, +Spies oversea the fires of the mountain; +When thrushes ope their throat, 't is he that sings, +And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings. +The little Shakspeare in the maiden's heart +Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart; +Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed +And gives persuasion to a gentle deed. + + + +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + +Six thankful weeks,--and let it be +A meter of prosperity,-- +In my coat I bore this book, +And seldom therein could I look, +For I had too much to think, +Heaven and earth to eat and drink. +Is he hapless who can spare +In his plenty things so rare? + + + +RICHES + +Have ye seen the caterpillar + Foully warking in his nest? +'T is the poor man getting siller, + Without cleanness, without rest. + +Have ye seen the butterfly + In braw claithing drest? +'T is the poor man gotten rich, + In rings and painted vest. + +The poor man crawls in web of rags + And sore bested with woes. +But when he flees on riches' wings, + He laugheth at his foes. + + + +PHILOSOPHER + +Philosophers are lined with eyes within, +And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. +In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; +Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, +He feels it, introverts his learned eye +To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + +His mother died,--the only friend he had,-- +Some tears escaped, but his philosophy +Couched like a cat sat watching close behind +And throttled all his passion. Is't not like +That devil-spider that devours her mate +Scarce freed from her embraces? + + + +INTELLECT + +Gravely it broods apart on joy, +And, truth to tell, amused by pain. + + + +LIMITS + +Who knows this or that? +Hark in the wall to the rat: +Since the world was, he has gnawed; +Of his wisdom, of his fraud +What dost thou know? +In the wretched little beast +Is life and heart, +Child and parent, +Not without relation +To fruitful field and sun and moon. +What art thou? His wicked eye +Is cruel to thy cruelty. + + + +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; +So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. + + + +THE EXILE + +(AFTER TALIESSIN) + +The heavy blue chain +Of the boundless main +Didst thou, just man, endure. + + + +I have an arrow that will find its mark, +A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + + * * * * * + + + + + +VI + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +1823-1834 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BELL + +I love thy music, mellow bell, + I love thine iron chime, +To life or death, to heaven or hell, + Which calls the sons of Time. + +Thy voice upon the deep + The home-bound sea-boy hails, +It charms his cares to sleep, + It cheers him as he sails. + +To house of God and heavenly joys + Thy summons called our sires, +And good men thought thy sacred voice + Disarmed the thunder's fires. + +And soon thy music, sad death-bell, + Shall lift its notes once more, +And mix my requiem with the wind + That sweeps my native shore. + +1823. + + + +THOUGHT + +I am not poor, but I am proud, + Of one inalienable right, +Above the envy of the crowd,-- + Thought's holy light. + +Better it is than gems or gold, + And oh! it cannot die, +But thought will glow when the sun grows cold, + And mix with Deity. + +BOSTON, 1823. + + + +PRAYER + +When success exalts thy lot, +God for thy virtue lays a plot: +And all thy life is for thy own, +Then for mankind's instruction shown; +And though thy knees were never bent, +To Heaven thy hourly prayers are sent, +And whether formed for good or ill, +Are registered and answered still. + +1826 [?]. + + + +I bear in youth the sad infirmities +That use to undo the limb and sense of age; +It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss +Which lit my onward way with bright presage, +And my unserviceable limbs forego. +The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, +On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, +And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. +Yet I think on them in the silent night, +Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, +And the firm soul does the pale train defy +Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. +Please God, I'll wrap me in mine innocence, +And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence. + +CAMBRIDGE, 1827. + + + +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly +Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, +God hath a select family of sons +Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone, +Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one +By constant service to, that inward law, +Is weaving the sublime proportions +Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, +The riches of a spotless memory, +The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got +By searching of a clear and loving eye +That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, +And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day +To seal the marriage of these minds with thine, +Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be +The salt of all the elements, world of the world. + + + +TO-DAY + +I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide +The resurrection of departed pride. +Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep, +Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep-- +Late in the world,--too late perchance for fame, +Just late enough to reap abundant blame,-- +I choose a novel theme, a bold abuse +Of critic charters, an unlaurelled Muse. + +Old mouldy men and books and names and lands +Disgust my reason and defile my hands. +I had as lief respect an ancient shoe, +As love old things _for age_, and hate the new. +I spurn the Past, my mind disdains its nod, +Nor kneels in homage to so mean a God. +I laugh at those who, while they gape and gaze, +The bald antiquity of China praise. +Youth is (whatever cynic tubs pretend) +The fault that boys and nations soonest mend. + +1824. + + + +FAME + +Ah Fate, cannot a man + Be wise without a beard? +East, West, from Beer to Dan, + Say, was it never heard +That wisdom might in youth be gotten, +Or wit be ripe before 't was rotten? + +He pays too high a price + For knowledge and for fame +Who sells his sinews to be wise, + His teeth and bones to buy a name, +And crawls through life a paralytic +To earn the praise of bard and critic. + +Were it not better done, + To dine and sleep through forty years; +Be loved by few; be feared by none; + Laugh life away; have wine for tears; +And take the mortal leap undaunted, +Content that all we asked was granted? + +But Fate will not permit + The seed of gods to die, +Nor suffer sense to win from wit + Its guerdon in the sky, +Nor let us hide, whate'er our pleasure, +The world's light underneath a measure. + +Go then, sad youth, and shine; + Go, sacrifice to Fame; +Put youth, joy, health upon the shrine, + And life to fan the flame; +Being for Seeming bravely barter +And die to Fame a happy martyr. + +1824. + + + +THE SUMMONS + +A sterner errand to the silken troop +Has quenched the uneasy blush that warmed my cheek; +I am commissioned in my day of joy +To leave my woods and streams and the sweet sloth +Of prayer and song that were my dear delight, +To leave the rudeness of my woodland life, +Sweet twilight walks and midnight solitude +And kind acquaintance with the morning stars +And the glad hey-day of my household hours, +The innocent mirth which sweetens daily bread, +Railing in love to those who rail again, +By mind's industry sharpening the love of life-- +Books, Muses, Study, fireside, friends and love, +I loved ye with true love, so fare ye well! + + I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by +And the impatient years that trod on it +Taught me new lessons in the lore of life. +I've learned the sum of that sad history +All woman-born do know, that hoped-for days, +Days that come dancing on fraught with delights, +Dash our blown hopes as they limp heavily by. +But I, the bantling of a country Muse, +Abandon all those toys with speed to obey +The King whose meek ambassador I go. + +1826. + + + +THE RIVER + +And I behold once more +My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, +The same blue wonder that my infant eye +Admired, sage doubting whence the traveller came,-- +Whence brought his sunny bubbles ere he washed +The fragrant flag-roots in my father's fields, +And where thereafter in the world he went. +Look, here he is, unaltered, save that now +He hath broke his banks and flooded all the vales +With his redundant waves. +Here is the rock where, yet a simple child, +I caught with bended pin my earliest fish, +Much triumphing,--and these the fields +Over whose flowers I chased the butterfly +A blooming hunter of a fairy fine. +And hark! where overhead the ancient crows +Hold their sour conversation in the sky:-- +These are the same, but I am not the same, +But wiser than I was, and wise enough +Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost +Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb; +These trees and stones are audible to me, +These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, +I understand their faery syllables, +And all their sad significance. The wind, +That rustles down the well-known forest road-- +It hath a sound more eloquent than speech. +The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind, +All of them utter sounds of 'monishment +And grave parental love. +They are not of our race, they seem to say, +And yet have knowledge of our moral race, +And somewhat of majestic sympathy, +Something of pity for the puny clay, +That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind. +I feel as I were welcome to these trees +After long months of weary wandering, +Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs; +They know me as their son, for side by side, +They were coeval with my ancestors, +Adorned with them my country's primitive times, +And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. + +CONCORD, June, 1827. + + + +GOOD HOPE + +The cup of life is not so shallow +That we have drained the best, +That all the wine at once we swallow +And lees make all the rest. + +Maids of as soft a bloom shall marry +As Hymen yet hath blessed, +And fairer forms are in the quarry +Than Phidias released. + +1827. + + + +LINES TO ELLEN + +Tell me, maiden, dost thou use +Thyself thro' Nature to diffuse? +All the angles of the coast +Were tenanted by thy sweet ghost, +Bore thy colors every flower, +Thine each leaf and berry bore; +All wore thy badges and thy favors +In their scent or in their savors, +Every moth with painted wing, +Every bird in carolling, +The wood-boughs with thy manners waved, +The rocks uphold thy name engraved, +The sod throbbed friendly to my feet, +And the sweet air with thee was sweet. +The saffron cloud that floated warm +Studied thy motion, took thy form, +And in his airy road benign +Recalled thy skill in bold design, +Or seemed to use his privilege +To gaze o'er the horizon's edge, +To search where now thy beauty glowed, +Or made what other purlieus proud. + +1829. + + + +SECURITY + +Though her eye seek other forms +And a glad delight below, +Yet the love the world that warms +Bids for me her bosom glow. + +She must love me till she find +Another heart as large and true. +Her soul is frank as the ocean wind, +And the world has only two. + +If Nature hold another heart +That knows a purer flame than me, +I too therein could challenge part +And learn of love a new degree. + +1829. + + + +A dull uncertain brain, +But gifted yet to know +That God has cherubim who go +Singing an immortal strain, +Immortal here below. +I know the mighty bards, +I listen when they sing, +And now I know +The secret store +Which these explore +When they with torch of genius pierce +The tenfold clouds that cover +The riches of the universe +From God's adoring lover. +And if to me it is not given +To fetch one ingot thence +Of the unfading gold of Heaven +His merchants may dispense, +Yet well I know the royal mine, +And know the sparkle of its ore, +Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine-- +Explored they teach us to explore. + +1831. + + + +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + +Why fear to die +And let thy body lie +Under the flowers of June, + Thy body food + For the ground-worms' brood +And thy grave smiled on by the visiting moon. + +Amid great Nature's halls +Girt in by mountain walls +And washed with waterfalls +It would please me to die, + Where every wind that swept my tomb + Goes loaded with a free perfume +Dealt out with a God's charity. + +I should like to die in sweets, +A hill's leaves for winding-sheets, +And the searching sun to see +That I am laid with decency. +And the commissioned wind to sing +His mighty psalm from fall to spring +And annual tunes commemorate +Of Nature's child the common fate. + +WILLIAMSTOWN, VERMONT, 1 June, 1831. + + + +A LETTER + +Dear brother, would you know the life, +Please God, that I would lead? +On the first wheels that quit this weary town +Over yon western bridges I would ride +And with a cheerful benison forsake +Each street and spire and roof, incontinent. +Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, +Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm, +Amid the mountain counties, Hants, Franklin, Berks, +Where down the rock ravine a river roars, +Even from a brook, and where old woods +Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground +With their centennial wrecks. +Find me a slope where I can feel the sun +And mark the rising of the early stars. +There will I bring my books,--my household gods, +The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell +In the sweet odor of her memory. +Then in the uncouth solitude unlock +My stock of art, plant dials in the grass, +Hang in the air a bright thermometer +And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun. + +CHARDON ST., BOSTON, 1831. + + + +Day by day returns +The everlasting sun, +Replenishing material urns +With God's unspared donation; +But the day of day, +The orb within the mind, +Creating fair and good alway, +Shines not as once it shined. + + * * * + +Vast the realm of Being is, +In the waste one nook is his; +Whatsoever hap befalls +In his vision's narrow walls +He is here to testify. + +1831. + + + +HYMN + +There is in all the sons of men +A love that in the spirit dwells, +That panteth after things unseen, +And tidings of the future tells. + +And God hath built his altar here +To keep this fire of faith alive, +And sent his priests in holy fear +To speak the truth--for truth to strive. + +And hither come the pensive train +Of rich and poor, of young and old, +Of ardent youth untouched by pain, +Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold. + +They seek a friend to speak the word +Already trembling on their tongue, +To touch with prophet's hand the chord +Which God in human hearts hath strung. + +To speak the plain reproof of sin +That sounded in the soul before, +And bid you let the angels in +That knock at meek contrition's door. + +A friend to lift the curtain up +That hides from man the mortal goal, +And with glad thoughts of faith and hope +Surprise the exulting soul. + +Sole source of light and hope assured, +O touch thy servant's lips with power, +So shall he speak to us the word +Thyself dost give forever more. + +June, 1831. + + + +SELF-RELIANCE + +Henceforth, please God, forever I forego +The yoke of men's opinions. I will be +Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God. +I find him in the bottom of my heart, +I hear continually his voice therein. + + * * * + +The little needle always knows the North, +The little bird remembereth his note, +And this wise Seer within me never errs. +I never taught it what it teaches me; +I only follow, when I act aright. + +October 9, 1832. + + + +And when I am entombed in my place, +Be it remembered of a single man, +He never, though he dearly loved his race, +For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. + + + +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +Of minds that each can stand against the world +By its own meek and incorruptible will? + + + +The days pass over me +And I am still the same; +The aroma of my life is gone +With the flower with which it came. + +1833. + + + +WRITTEN IN NAPLES + +We are what we are made; each following day +Is the Creator of our human mould +Not less than was the first; the all-wise God +Gilds a few points in every several life, +And as each flower upon the fresh hillside, +And every colored petal of each flower, +Is sketched and dyed, each with a new design, +Its spot of purple, and its streak of brown, +So each man's life shall have its proper lights, +And a few joys, a few peculiar charms, +For him round in the melancholy hours +And reconcile him to the common days. +Not many men see beauty in the fogs +Of close low pine-woods in a river town; +Yet unto me not morn's magnificence, +Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve, +Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls +Of rich men blazing hospitable light, +Nor wit, nor eloquence,--no, nor even the song +Of any woman that is now alive,-- +Hath such a soul, such divine influence, +Such resurrection of the happy past, +As is to me when I behold the morn +Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath +Peep the blue violets out of the black loam, +Pathetic silent poets that sing to me +Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife. + +March, 1833. + + + +WRITTEN AT ROME + +Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;-- +Besides, you need not be alone; the soul +Shall have society of its own rank. +Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, +The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome, +Shall flock to you and tarry by your side, +And comfort you with their high company. +Virtue alone is sweet society, +It keeps the key to all heroic hearts, +And opens you a welcome in them all. +You must be like them if you desire them, +Scorn trifles and embrace a better aim +Than wine or sleep or praise; +Hunt knowledge as the lover wooes a maid, +And ever in the strife of your own thoughts +Obey the nobler impulse; that is Rome: +That shall command a senate to your side; +For there is no might in the universe +That can contend with love. It reigns forever. +Wait then, sad friend, wait in majestic peace +The hour of heaven. Generously trust +Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand +That until now has put his world in fee +To thee. He watches for thee still. His love +Broods over thee, and as God lives in heaven, +However long thou walkest solitary, +The hour of heaven shall come, the man appear. + +1833. + + + +WEBSTER + +1831 + +Let Webster's lofty face +Ever on thousands shine, +A beacon set that Freedom's race +Might gather omens from that radiant sign. + + + +FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + +1834 + +Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave +For living brows; ill fits them to receive: +And yet, if virtue abrogate the law, +One portrait--fact or fancy--we may draw; +A form which Nature cast in the heroic mould +Of them who rescued liberty of old; +He, when the rising storm of party roared, +Brought his great forehead to the council board, +There, while hot heads perplexed with fears the state, +Calm as the morn the manly patriot sate; +Seemed, when at last his clarion accents broke, +As if the conscience of the country spoke. +Not on its base Monadnoc surer stood, +Than he to common sense and common good: +No mimic; from his breast his counsel drew, +Believed the eloquent was aye the true; +He bridged the gulf from th' alway good and wise +To that within the vision of small eyes. +Self-centred; when he launched the genuine word +It shook or captivated all who heard, +Ran from his mouth to mountains and the sea, +And burned in noble hearts proverb and prophecy. + + + +1854 + +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, _For Sale_. + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +A dull uncertain brain +"A new commandment," said the smiling Muse +A patch of meadow upland +A queen rejoices in her peers +A ruddy drop of manly blood +A score of airy miles will smooth +A sterner errand to the silken troop +A subtle chain of countless rings +A train of gay and clouded days +Ah Fate, cannot a man +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +All day the waves assailed the rock +Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too +Already blushes on thy cheek +And as the light divides the dark +And Ellen, when the graybeard years +And I behold once more +And when I am entombed in my place +Announced by all the trumpets of the sky +Around the man who seeks a noble end +Ascending thorough just degrees +Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' +As sings the pine-tree in the wind +As sunbeams stream through liberal space +As the drop feeds its fated flower +Atom from atom yawns as far + +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly +Because I was content with these poor fields +Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest +Blooms the laurel which belongs +Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold +Bring me wine, but wine which never grew +Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint +Burly, dozing humble-bee +But God said +But if thou do thy best +But Nature whistled with all her winds +But never yet the man was found +But over all his crowning grace +By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave +By the rude bridge that arched the flood +By thoughts I lead + +Can rules or tutors educate +Cast the bantling on the rocks +Coin the day dawn into lines + +Dark flower of Cheshire garden +Darlings of children and of bard +Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring +Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more +Day by day returns +Day! hast thou two faces +Dear brother, would you know the life +Dearest, where thy shadow falls +Deep in the man sits fast his fate + +Each spot where tulips prank their state +Each the herald is who wrote +Easy to match what others do +Ere he was born, the stars of fate +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Ever the Rock of Ages melts +Every day brings a ship +Every thought is public + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well +Farewell, ye lofty spires +Flow, flow the waves hated +For art, for music over-thrilled +For every God +For Fancy's gift +For Genius made his cabin wide +For joy and beauty planted it +For Nature, true and like in every place +For thought, and not praise +For what need I of book or priest +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread +Freedom all winged expands +Friends to me are frozen wine +From fall to spring, the russet acorn +From high to higher forces +From the stores of eldest matter +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate + +Gifts of one who loved me +Give all to love +Give me truths +Give to barrows, trays and pans +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower +Go speed the stars of Thought +Go thou to thy learned task +Gold and iron are good +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home +Grace, Beauty and Caprice +Gravely it broods apart on joy + +Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains +Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? +Have ye seen the caterpillar +He could condense cerulean ether +He lives not who can refuse me +He planted where the deluge ploughed +He took the color of his vest +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare +He who has no hands +Hear what British Merlin sung +Henceforth, please God, forever I forego +Her passions the shy violet +Her planted eye to-day controls +High was her heart, and yet was well inclined +Him strong Genius urged to roam +His instant thought a poet spoke +His tongue was framed to music +Hold of the Maker, not the Made +How much, preventing God, how much I owe + +I, Alphonso, live and learn +I am not poor but I am proud +I am not wiser for my age +I am the Muse who sung alway +I bear in youth and sad infirmities +I cannot spare water or wine +I do not count the hours I spend +I framed his tongue to music +I grieve that better souls than mine +I have an arrow that will find its mark +I have no brothers and no peers +I have trod this path a hundred times +I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea +I hung my verses in the wind +I left my dreary page and sallied forth +I like a church; I like a cowl +I love thy music, mellow bell +I mourn upon this battle-field +I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide +I reached the middle of the mount +I said to heaven that glowed above +I see all human wits +I serve you not, if you I follow +If bright the sun, he tarries +If curses be the wage of love +If I could put my woods in song +If my darling should depart +If the red slayer think he slays +Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave +Illusions like the tints of pearl +Illusion works impenetrable +In an age of fops and toys +In countless upward-striving waves +In Farsistan the violet spreads +In many forms we try +In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes +In my garden three ways meet +In the chamber, on the stairs +In the deep heart of man a poet dwells +In the suburb, in the town +In the turbulent beauty +In Walden wood the chickadee +It fell in the ancient periods +It is time to be old + +Knows he who tills this lonely field + +Let me go where'er I will +Let Webster's lofty face +Like vaulters in a circus round +Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown +Long I followed happy guides +Love asks nought his brother cannot give +Love on his errand bound to go +Love scatters oil +Low and mournful be the strain + +Man was made of social earth +Many things the garden shows +May be true what I had heard +Mine and yours +Mine are the night and morning +Mortal mixed of middle clay + +Nature centres into balls +Never did sculptor's dream unfold +Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low +Not in their houses stand the stars + +October woods wherein +O fair and stately maid, whose eyes +O pity that I pause! +O tenderly the haughty day +O well for the fortunate soul +O what are heroes, prophets, men +Of all wit's uses the main one +Of Merlin wise I learned a song +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +On a mound an Arab lay +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers +On prince or bride no diamond stone +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave +Once I wished I might rehearse +One musician is sure +Our eyeless bark sails free +Over his head were the maple buds + +Pale genius roves alone +Parks and ponds are good by day +Philosophers are lined with eyes within +Power that by obedience grows +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + +Quit the hut, frequent the palace + +Right upward on the road of fame +Roomy Eternity +Roving, roving, as it seems +Ruby wine is drunk by knaves + +Samson stark at Dagon's knee +See yonder leafless trees against the sky +Seek not the spirit, if it hide +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants +Set not thy foot on graves +She is gamesome and good +She paints with white and red the moors +She walked in flowers around my field +Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift +Six thankful weeks,--and let it be +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue +Soft and softlier hold me, friends! +Solar insect on the wing +Some of your hurts you have cured +Space is ample, east and west +Spin the ball! I reel, I burn +Such another peerless queen +Sudden gusts came full of meaning + +Tell me, maiden, dost thou use +Tell men what they knew before +Test of the poet is knowledge of love +Thanks to the morning light +That book is good +That each should in his house abide +That you are fair or wise is vain +The April winds are magical +The archangel Hope +The Asmodean feat is mine +The atom displaces all atoms beside +The bard and mystic held me for their own +The beggar begs by God's command +The brave Empedocles, defying fools +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +The cup of life is not so shallow +The days pass over me +The debt is paid +The gale that wrecked you on the sand +The green grass is bowing +The heavy blue chain +The living Heaven thy prayers respect +The lords of life, the lords of life +The low December vault in June be lifted high +Theme no poet gladly sung +The mountain and the squirrel +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded +The patient Pan +The prosperous and beautiful +The rhyme of the poet +The rocky nook with hilltops three +The rules to men made evident +The sea is the road of the bold +The sense of the world is short +The solid, solid universe +The South-wind brings +The Sphinx is drowsy +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +The sun goes down, and with him takes +The sun set, but set not his hope +The tongue is prone to lose the way +The water understands +The wings of Time are black and white +The word of the Lord by night +The yesterday doth never smile +Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes +There are beggars in Iran and Araby +There is in all the sons of men +There is no great and no small +There is no architect +They brought me rubies from the mine +They put their finger on their lips +They say, through patience, chalk +Thine eyes still shined for me, though far +Think me not unkind and rude +This is he, who, felled by foes +This shining moment is an edifice +Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls +Thou shalt make thy house +Though her eyes seek other forms +Though loath to grieve +Though love repine and reason chafe +Thousand minstrels woke within me +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down +Thy summer voice, Musketaquit +Thy trivial harp will never please +To and fro the Genius flies +To clothe the fiery thought +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +Trees in groves +True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet +Try the might the Muse affords +Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene +Two well-assorted travellers use + +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art + +Venus, when her son was lost + +Was never form and never face +We are what we are made; each following day +We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends +We love the venerable house +Well and wisely said the Greek +What all the books of ages paint, I have +What care I, so they stand the same +What central flowing forces, say +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt +When I was born +When success exalts thy lot +When the pine tosses its cones +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port +Who gave thee, O Beauty +Who knows this or that? 375. +Who saw the hid beginnings +Who shall tell what did befall +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +Why fear to die +Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year +Why should I keep holiday +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Winters know +Wise and polite,--and if I drew +Wisp and meteor nightly falling +With beams December planets dart +With the key of the secret he marches faster +Would you know what joy is hid + +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken +You shall not be overbold +You shall not love me for what daily spends +Your picture smiles as first it smiled + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + +[The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal +divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the +subdivisions of long poems.] + +A.H. +[Greek: Adakryn nemontai Aiona] +Adirondacs, The +Alcuin, From +Ali Ben Abu Taleb, From +Alphonso of Castile +Amulet, The +Apology, The +April +Art +Artist +Astraea + +Bacchus +Beauty +Bell, The +Berrying +Birds +Blight +Boéce, Étienne de la +Bohemian Hymn, The +Borrowing +Boston +Boston Hymn, read in Music Hall, January 1, 1863 +Botanist +Brahma + +Caritas +Casella +Celestial Love, The +Channing, W.H., Ode inscribed to +Character +Chartist's Complaint, The +Circles +Climacteric +Compensation +Concord Hymn +Concord, Ode Sung in the Town Hall, July 4, 1857 +Cosmos +Culture +Cupido + +Daemonic Love, The +Day's Ration, The +Days +Destiny +Dirge + +Each and All +Earth, The +Earth-Song +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES +Ellen, To +Ellen, Lines to +Enchanter, The +Epitaph +Eros +Eva, To +Excelsior +Exile, The +Experience + +Fable +Fame +Fate +Flute, The +Forbearance +Forerunners +Forester +Fragments on Nature and Life +Fragments on the Poet and the Poetic Gift +Freedom +Friendship + +Garden, The +Garden, My +Gardener +Gifts +Give all to Love +Good-bye +Good Hope +Grace +Guy + +Hafiz +Hafiz, From +Hamatreya +Harp, The +Heavens, The +Heri, Cras, Hodie +Hermione +Heroism +Holidays +Horoscope +House, The +Humble-Bee, The +Hush! +Hymn +Hymn sung at the Second Church, Boston, at the Ordination of + Rev. Chandler Robbins + +Ibn Jemin, From +Illusions +Informing Spirit, The +In Memoriam +Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love +Initial Love, The +Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War +Insight +Intellect + +J.W., To + +Last Farewell, The +Letter, A +Letters +Life +Limits +Lines by Ellen Louise Tucker +Lines to Ellen +Love +Love and Thought + +Maia +Maiden Speech of the Aeolian Harp +Manners +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES +May-Day +Memory +Merlin +Merlin's Song +Merops +Miracle, The +Mithridates +Monadnoc +Monadnoc from afar +Mountain Grave, A +Music +Musketaquid +My Garden + +Nahant +Nature +Nature in Leasts +Nemesis +Night in June +Northman +Nun's Aspiration, The + +October +Ode, inscribed to W.H. Channing +Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857 +Ode to Beauty +Omar Khayyam, From +Orator + +Pan +Park, The +Past, The +Pericles +Peter's Field +Phi Beta Kappa Poem, From the +Philosopher +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD +Poet +Poet, The +Politics +Power +Prayer +Problem, The +Promise +Prudence + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +Rex +Rhea, To +Rhodora, The +Riches +River, The +Romany Girl, The +Rubies + +S.H. +Saadi +Sacrifice +Seashore +Security +September +Shah, To the +Shakspeare +Snow-Storm, The +Solution +Song of Nature +Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan +Sonnet of Michel Angelo Buonarotti +Sphinx, The +Spiritual Laws +Summons, The +Sunrise +Sursum Corda +"Suum Cuique" + +Terminus +Test, The +Thine Eyes still Shined +Thought +Threnody +Titmouse, The +To-Day +To Ellen at the South +To Ellen +To Eva +To J.W. +To Rhea +To the Shah +Transition +Translations +Two Rivers + +Una +Unity +Uriel + +Violet, The +Visit, The +Voluntaries + +Waldeinsamkeit +Walden +Walk, The +Water +Waterfall, The +Wealth +Webster +Woodnotes +World-Soul, The +Worship +Written at Rome, 1883 +Written in a Volume of Goethe +Written in Naples, March, 1883 + +Xenophanes + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 12843-8.txt or 12843-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/8/4/12843/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + Household Edition + +Author: Ralph Waldo Emerson + +Release Date: July 7, 2004 [EBook #12843] +Last Updated: February 17, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Etxt produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + POEMS + </h1> + <h2> + By Ralph Waldo Emerson + </h2> + <h3> + <i>HOUSEHOLD EDITION</i> + </h3> + <h3> + 1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + </h3> + <hr /> + <hr /> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I — <b>POEMS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> GOOD-BYE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> EACH AND ALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE PROBLEM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> TO RHEA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE VISIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> URIEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE WORLD-SOUL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE SPHINX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ALPHONSO OF CASTILE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MITHRIDATES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> TO J.W. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> DESTINY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> GUY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> HAMATREYA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> THE RHODORA: </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> THE HUMBLE-BEE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> BERRYING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> THE SNOW-STORM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> WOODNOTES I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> WOODNOTES II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> MONADNOC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> FABLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> ODE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> ASTRAEA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> FORBEARANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> THE PARK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> FORERUNNERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> SURSUM CORDA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> ODE TO BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> GIVE ALL TO LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> TO ELLEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> TO EVA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> LINES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> THE VIOLET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> THE AMULET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> THINE EYES STILL SHINED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> EROS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> HERMIONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> THE APOLOGY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> MERLIN I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> MERLIN II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> BACCHUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> MEROPS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> THE HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> SAADI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> HOLIDAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> XENOPHANES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> THE DAY'S RATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> BLIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> MUSKETAQUID </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> DIRGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> THRENODY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> CONCORD HYMN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> II — <b>MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> MAY-DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> THE ADIRONDACS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> BRAHMA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> NEMESIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> FATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> FREEDOM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> ODE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> BOSTON HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> VOLUNTARIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> LOVE AND THOUGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> UNA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> BOSTON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> LETTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> RUBIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> MERLIN'S SONG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> THE TEST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> SOLUTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> NATURE I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> NATURE II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> THE ROMANY GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> DAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> MY GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> THE TITMOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> THE HARP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> SEASHORE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> SONG OF NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> TWO RIVERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> WALDEINSAMKEIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> TERMINUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> THE NUN'S ASPIRATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> APRIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> CUPIDO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> THE PAST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> THE LAST FAREWELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0100"> IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0101"> III — <b>ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0102"> EXPERIENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0103"> COMPENSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0104"> POLITICS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0105"> HEROISM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0106"> CHARACTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0107"> CULTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0108"> FRIENDSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0109"> SPIRITUAL LAWS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0110"> BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0111"> MANNERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0112"> ART </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0113"> UNITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0114"> WORSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0115"> PRUDENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0116"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0117"> THE INFORMING SPIRIT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0118"> CIRCLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0119"> INTELLECT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0120"> GIFTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0121"> PROMISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0122"> CARITAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0123"> POWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0124"> WEALTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0125"> ILLUSIONS </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0126"> IV — <b>QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0127"> QUATRAINS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0128"> HUSH! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0129"> ORATOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0130"> ARTIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0131"> POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0132"> POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0133"> BOTANIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0134"> GARDENER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0135"> FORESTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0136"> NORTHMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0137"> FROM ALCUIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0138"> EXCELSIOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0139"> BORROWING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0140"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0141"> FATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0142"> HOROSCOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0143"> POWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0144"> CLIMACTERIC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0145"> HERI, CRAS, HODIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0146"> MEMORY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0147"> LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0148"> SACRIFICE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0149"> PERICLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0150"> CASELLA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0151"> SHAKSPEARE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0152"> HAFIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0153"> NATURE IN LEASTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0154"> TRANSLATIONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0155"> SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0156"> THE EXILE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0157"> FROM HAFIZ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0158"> EPITAPH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0159"> FRIENDSHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0160"> FROM OMAR KHAYYAM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0161"> FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0162"> FROM IBN JEMIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0163"> THE FLUTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0164"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0165"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0166"> TO THE SHAH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0167"> SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0168"> V — <b>APPENDIX</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0169"> THE POET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0170"> FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0171"> FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0172"> NATURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0173"> THE EARTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0174"> THE HEAVENS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0175"> TRANSITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0176"> THE GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0177"> BIRDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0178"> WATER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0179"> NAHANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0180"> SUNRISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0181"> NIGHT IN JUNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0182"> MAIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0183"> LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0184"> REX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0185"> SUUM CUIQUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0186"> THE BOHEMIAN HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0187"> GRACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0188"> INSIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0189"> PAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0190"> MONADNOC FROM AFAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0191"> SEPTEMBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0192"> EROS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0193"> OCTOBER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0194"> PETER'S FIELD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0195"> MUSIC </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0196"> THE WALK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0197"> COSMOS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0198"> THE MIRACLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0199"> THE WATERFALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0200"> WALDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0201"> THE ENCHANTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0202"> WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0203"> RICHES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0204"> PHILOSOPHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0205"> INTELLECT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0206"> LIMITS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0207"> INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS + OF THE WAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0208"> THE EXILE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0209"> VI — <b>POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0210"> THE BELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0211"> THOUGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0212"> PRAYER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0213"> TO-DAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0214"> FAME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0215"> THE SUMMONS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0216"> THE RIVER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0217"> GOOD HOPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0218"> LINES TO ELLEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0219"> SECURITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0220"> A MOUNTAIN GRAVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0221"> A LETTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0222"> HYMN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0223"> SELF-RELIANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0224"> WRITTEN IN NAPLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0225"> WRITTEN AT ROME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0226"> WEBSTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0227"> FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0228"> <b>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0229"> <b>INDEX OF TITLES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, + published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:— + </p> + <p> + "This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS and + MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876, Mr. Emerson published a selection + from his Poems, adding six new ones and omitting many[1] of those + omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the expressed wishes + of many readers and lovers of them. Also some pieces never before + published are here given in an Appendix; on various grounds. Some of them + appear to have had Mr. Emerson's approval, but to have been withheld + because they were unfinished. These it seemed best not to suppress, now + that they can never receive their completion. Others, mostly of an early + date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of their personal and + private nature. Some of these seem to have an autobiographic interest + sufficient to justify their publication. Others again, often mere + fragments, have been admitted as characteristic, or as expressing in + poetic form thoughts found in the Essays. + </p> + + <pre> + [1]: Little Classic Edition. + </pre> + + <p> + "In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole, + preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the + opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of Time. + </p> + <p> + "As was stated in the preface to the first volume of this edition of Mr. + Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the Selected Poems have + not always been followed here, but in some cases preference has been given + to corrections made by him when he was in fuller strength than at the time + of the last revision. + </p> + <p> + "A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of 'May-Day,' in the part + representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as bringing + them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + </p> + <p> + In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the <i>Poems</i>, Mr. Cabot + very considerately took the present editor into counsel (as representing + Mr. Emerson's family), who at that time in turn took counsel with several + persons of taste and mature judgment with regard especially to the + admission of poems hitherto unpublished and of fragments that seemed + interested and pleasing. Mr. Cabot and he were entirely in accord with + regard to the Riverside Edition. In the present edition, the substance of + the Riverside Edition has been preserved, with hardly an exception, + although some poems and fragments have been added. None of the poems + therein printed have been omitted. "The House," which appeared in the + first volume of <i>Poems</i>, and "Nemesis," "Una," "Love and Thought" and + "Merlin's Songs," from the <i>May-Day</i> volume, have been restored. To + the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. Emerson printed as "Elements" in + <i>May-Day</i>, most of the others have been added. Following Mr. + Emerson's precedent of giving his brother Edward's "Last Farewell" a place + beside the poem in his memory, two pleasing poems by Ellen Tucker, his + first wife, which he published in the <i>Dial</i>, have been placed with + his own poems relating to her. The publication in the last edition of some + poems that Mr. Emerson had long kept by him, but had never quite been + ready to print, and of various fragments on Poetry, Nature and Life, was + not done without advice and careful consideration, and then was felt to be + perhaps a rash experiment. The continued interest which has been shown in + the author's thought and methods and life—for these unfinished + pieces contain much autobiography—has made the present editor feel + it justifiable to keep almost all of these and to add a few. Their order + has been slightly altered. + </p> + <p> + A few poems from the verse-books sufficiently complete to have a title are + printed in the Appendix for the first time: "Insight," "September," + "October," "Hymn" and "Riches." + </p> + <p> + After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, and + printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of them + taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never printed + before. They are for the most part journals in verse covering the period + of his school-teaching, study for the ministry and exercise of that + office, his sickness, bereavement, travel abroad and return to the new + life. This sad period of probation is illuminated by the episode of his + first love. Not for their poetical merit, except in flashes, but for the + light they throw on the growth of his thought and character are they + included. + </p> + <p> + In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued + with regard to his own poems. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. +</pre> + <h3> + EDWARD W. EMERSON. + </h3> + <p> + March 12, 1904. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + </h2> + <p> + The Emersons first appeared in the north of England, but Thomas, who + landed in Massachusetts in 1638, came from Hertfordshire. He built soon + after a house, sometimes railed the Saint's Rest, which still stands in + Ipswich on the slope of Heart-break Hill, close by Labour-in-vain Creek. + Ralph Waldo Emerson was the sixth in descent from him. He was born in + Boston, in Summer Street, May 25, 1803. He was the third son of William + Emerson, the minister of the First Church in Boston, whose father, William + Emerson, had been the patriotic minister of Concord at the outbreak of the + Revolution, and died a chaplain in the army. Ruth Haskins, the mother of + Ralph Waldo Emerson, was left a widow in 1811, with a family of five + little boys. The taste of these boys was scholarly, and four of them went + through the Latin School to Harvard College, and graduated there. Their + mother was a person of great sweetness, dignity, and piety, bringing up + her sons wisely and well in very straitened circumstances, and loved by + them. Her husband's stepfather, Rev. Dr. Ripley of Concord, helped her, + and constantly invited the boys to the Old Manse, so that the woods and + fields along the Concord River were first a playground and then the + background of the dreams of their awakening imaginations. + </p> + <p> + Born in the city, Emerson's young mind first found delight in poems and + classic prose, to which his instincts led him as naturally as another + boy's would to go fishing, but his vacations in the country supplemented + these by giving him great and increasing love of nature. In his early + poems classic imagery is woven into pictures of New England woodlands. + Even as a little boy he had the habit of attempting flights of verse, + stimulated by Milton, Pope, or Scott, and he and his mates took pleasure + in declaiming to each other in barns and attics. He was so full of + thoughts and fancies that he sought the pen instinctively, to jot them + down. + </p> + <p> + At college Emerson did not shine as a scholar, though he won prizes for + essays and declamations, being especially unfitted for mathematical + studies, and enjoying the classics rather in a literary than grammatical + way. And yet it is doubtful whether any man in his class used his time to + better purpose with reference to his after life, for young Emerson's + instinct led him to wide reading of works, outside the curriculum, that + spoke directly to him. He had already formed the habit of writing in a + journal, not the facts but the thoughts and inspirations of the day; + often, also, good stories or poetical quotations, and scraps of his own + verse. + </p> + <p> + On graduation from Harvard in the class of 1821, following the traditions + of his family, Emerson resolved to study to be a minister, and meantime + helped his older brother William in the support of the family by teaching + in a school for young ladies in Boston, that the former had successfully + established. The principal was twenty-one and the assistant nineteen years + of age. For school-teaching on the usual lines Emerson was not fitted, and + his youth and shyness prevented him from imparting his best gifts to his + scholars. Years later, when, in his age, his old scholars assembled to + greet him, he regretted that no hint had been brought into the school of + what at that very time "I was writing every night in my chamber, my first + thoughts on morals and the beautiful laws of compensation, and of + individual genius, which to observe and illustrate have given sweetness to + many years of my life." Yet many scholars remembered his presence and + teaching with pleasure and gratitude, not only in Boston, but in + Chelmsford and Roxbury, for while his younger brothers were in college it + was necessary that he should help. In these years, as through all his + youth, he was loved, spurred on in his intellectual life, and keenly + criticised by his aunt, Mary Moody Emerson, an eager and wide reader, + inspired by religious zeal, high-minded, but eccentric. + </p> + <p> + The health of the young teacher suffered from too ascetic a life, and + unmistakable danger-signals began to appear, fortunately heeded in time, + but disappointment and delay resulted, borne, however, with sense and + courage. His course at the Divinity School in Cambridge was much broken; + nevertheless, in October, 1826, he was "approbated to preach" by the + Middlesex Association of Ministers. A winter at the North at this time + threatened to prove fatal, so he was sent South by his helpful kinsman, + Rev. Samuel Ripley, and passed the winter in Florida with benefit, working + northward in the spring, preaching in the cities, and resumed his studies + at Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + In 1829, Emerson was called by the Second or Old North Church in Boston to + become the associate pastor with Rev. Henry Ware, and soon after, because + of his senior's delicate health, was called on to assume the full duty. + Theological dogmas, such as the Unitarian Church of Channing's day + accepted, did not appeal to Emerson, nor did the supernatural in religion + in its ordinary acceptation interest him. The omnipresence of spirit, the + dignity of man, the daily miracle of the universe, were what he taught, + and while the older members of the congregation may have been disquieted + that he did not dwell on revealed religion, his words reached the young + people, stirred thought, and awakened aspiration. At this time he lived + with his mother and his young wife (Ellen Tucker) in Chardon Street. For + three years he ministered to his people in Boston. Then having felt the + shock of being obliged to conform to church usage, as stated prayer when + the spirit did not move, and especially the administration of the + Communion, he honestly laid his troubles before his people, and proposed + to them some modification of this rite. While they considered his + proposition, Emerson went into the White Mountains to weigh his + conflicting duties to his church and conscience. He came down, bravely to + meet the refusal of the church to change the rite, and in a sermon + preached in September, 1832, explained his objections to it, and, because + he could not honestly administer it, resigned. + </p> + <p> + He parted from his people in all kindness, but the wrench was felt. His + wife had recently died, he was ill himself, his life seemed to others + broken up. But meantime voices from far away had reached him. He sailed + for Europe, landed in Italy, saw cities, and art, and men, but would not + stay long. Of the dead, Michael Angelo appealed chiefly to him there; + Landor among the living. He soon passed northward, making little stay in + Paris, but sought out Carlyle, then hardly recognized, and living in the + lonely hills of the Scottish Border. There began a friendship which had + great influence on the lives of both men, and lasted through life. He also + visited Wordsworth. But the new life before him called him home. + </p> + <p> + He landed at Boston within the year in good health and hope, and joined + his mother and youngest brother Charles in Newton. Frequent invitations to + preach still came, and were accepted, and he even was sounded as to + succeeding Dr. Dewey in the church at New Bedford; but, as he stipulated + for freedom from ceremonial, this came to nothing. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn of 1834 he moved to Concord, living with his kinsman, Dr. + Ripley, at the Manse, but soon bought house and land on the Boston Road, + on the edge of the village towards Walden woods. Thither, in the autumn, + he brought his wife. Miss Lidian Jackson, of Plymouth, and this was their + home during the rest of their lives. + </p> + <p> + The new life to which he had been called opened pleasantly and increased + in happiness and opportunity, except for the sadness of bereavements, for, + in the first few years, his brilliant brothers Edward and Charles died, + and soon afterward Waldo, his firstborn son, and later his mother. Emerson + had left traditional religion, the city, the Old World, behind, and now + went to Nature as his teacher, his inspiration. His first book, "Nature," + which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here, and published + in 1836. His practice during all his life in Concord was to go alone to + the woods almost daily, sometimes to wait there for hours, and, when thus + attuned, to receive the message to which he was to give voice. Though it + might be colored by him in transmission, he held that the light was + universal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ever the words of the Gods resound, + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear." +</pre> + <p> + But he resorted, also, to the books of those who had handed down the + oracles truly, and was quick to find the message destined for him. Men, + too, he studied eagerly, the humblest and the highest, regretting always + that the brand of the scholar on him often silenced the men of shop and + office where he came. He was everywhere a learner, expecting light from + the youngest and least educated visitor. The thoughts combined with the + flower of his reading were gradually grouped into lectures, and his main + occupation through life was reading these to who would hear, at first in + courses in Boston, but later all over the country, for the Lyceum sprang + up in New England in these years in every town, and spread westward to the + new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. His winters were spent in + these rough, but to him interesting journeys, for he loved to watch the + growth of the Republic in which he had faith, and his summers were spent + in study and writing. These lectures were later severely pruned and + revised, and the best of them gathered into seven volumes of essays under + different names between 1841 and 1876. The courses in Boston, which at + first were given in the Masonic Temple, were always well attended by + earnest and thoughtful people. The young, whether in years or in spirit, + were always and to the end his audience of the spoken or written word. The + freedom of the Lyceum platform pleased Emerson. He found that people would + hear on Wednesday with approval and unsuspectingly doctrines from which on + Sunday they felt officially obliged to dissent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lowell, in his essays, has spoken of these early lectures and what + they were worth to him and others suffering from the generous discontent + of youth with things as they were. Emerson used to say, "My strength and + my doom is to be solitary;" but to a retired scholar a wholesome offset to + this was the travelling and lecturing in cities and in raw frontier towns, + bringing him into touch with the people, and this he knew and valued. + </p> + <p> + In 1837 Emerson gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration in Cambridge, The American + Scholar, which increased his growing reputation, but the following year + his Address to the Senior Class at the Divinity School brought out, even + from the friendly Unitarians, severe strictures and warnings against its + dangerous doctrines. Of this heresy Emerson said: "I deny personality to + God because it is too little, not too much." He really strove to elevate + the idea of God. Yet those who were pained or shocked by his teachings + respected Emerson. His lectures were still in demand; he was often asked + to speak by literary societies at orthodox colleges. He preached regularly + at East Lexington until 1838, but thereafter withdrew from the ministerial + office. At this time the progressive and spiritually minded young people + used to meet for discussion and help in Boston, among them George Ripley, + Cyrus Bartol, James Freeman Clarke, Alcott, Dr. Hedge, Margaret Fuller, + and Elizabeth Peabody. Perhaps from this gathering of friends, which + Emerson attended, came what is called the Transcendental Movement, two + results of which were the Brook Farm Community and the Dial magazine, in + which last Emerson took great interest, and was for the time an editor. + Many of these friends were frequent visitors in Concord. Alcott moved + thither after the breaking up of his school. Hawthorne also came to dwell + there. Henry Thoreau, a Concord youth, greatly interested Emerson; indeed, + became for a year or two a valued inmate of his home, and helped and + instructed him in the labors of the garden and little farm, which + gradually grew to ten acres, the chief interest of which for the owner was + his trees, which he loved and tended. Emerson helped introduce his + countrymen to the teachings of Carlyle, and edited his works here, where + they found more readers than at home. + </p> + <p> + In 1847 Emerson was invited to read lectures in England, and remained + abroad a year, visiting France also in her troublous times. English Traits + was a result. Just before this journey he had collected and published his + poems. A later volume, called May Day, followed in 1867. He had written + verses from childhood, and to the purified expression of poetry he, + through life, eagerly aspired. He said, "I like my poems best because it + is not I who write them." In 1866 the degree of Doctor of Laws was + conferred on him by Harvard University, and he was chosen an Overseer. In + 1867 he again gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration, and in 1870 and 1871 gave + courses in Philosophy in the University Lectures at Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + Emerson was not merely a man of letters. He recognized and did the private + and public duties of the hour. He exercised a wide hospitality to souls as + well as bodies. Eager youths came to him for rules, and went away with + light. Reformers, wise and unwise, came to him, and were kindly received. + They were often disappointed that they could not harness him to their + partial and transient scheme. He said, My reforms include theirs: I must + go my way; help people by my strength, not by my weakness. But if a storm + threatened, he felt bound to appear and show his colors. Against the + crying evils of his time he worked bravely in his own way. He wrote to + President Van Buren against the wrong done to the Cherokees, dared speak + against the idolized Webster, when he deserted the cause of Freedom, + constantly spoke of the iniquity of slavery, aided with speech and money + the Free State cause in Kansas, was at Phillips's side at the antislavery + meeting in 1861 broken up by the Boston mob, urged emancipation during the + war. + </p> + <p> + He enjoyed his Concord home and neighbors, served on the school committee + for years, did much for the Lyceum, and spoke on the town's great + occasions. He went to all town-meetings, oftener to listen and admire than + to speak, and always took pleasure and pride in the people. In return he + was respected and loved by them. + </p> + <p> + Emerson's house was destroyed by fire in 1872, and the incident exposure + and fatigue did him harm. His many friends insisted on rebuilding his + house and sending him abroad to get well. He went up the Nile, and + revisited England, finding old and new friends, and, on his return, was + welcomed and escorted home by the people of Concord. After this time he + was unable to write. His old age was quiet and happy among his family and + friends. He died in April, 1882. + </p> + <h3> + EDWARD W. EMERSON. + </h3> + <p> + January, 1899. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I — POEMS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD-BYE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: + Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. + Long through thy weary crowds I roam; + A river-ark on the ocean brine, + Long I've been tossed like the driven foam: + But now, proud world! I'm going home. + + Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; + To Grandeur with his wise grimace; + To upstart Wealth's averted eye; + To supple Office, low and high; + To crowded halls, to court and street; + To frozen hearts and hasting feet; + To those who go, and those who come; + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home. + + I am going to my own hearth-stone, + Bosomed in yon green hills alone,— + secret nook in a pleasant land, + Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; + Where arches green, the livelong day, + Echo the blackbird's roundelay, + And vulgar feet have never trod + A spot that is sacred to thought and God. + + O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, + I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; + And when I am stretched beneath the pines, + Where the evening star so holy shines, + I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, + At the sophist schools and the learned clan; + For what are they all, in their high conceit, + When man in the bush with God may meet? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EACH AND ALL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown + Of thee from the hill-top looking down; + The heifer that lows in the upland farm, + Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; + The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, + Deems not that great Napoleon + Stops his horse, and lists with delight, + Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; + Nor knowest thou what argument + Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. + All are needed by each one; + Nothing is fair or good alone. + I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, + Singing at dawn on the alder bough; + I brought him home, in his nest, at even; + He sings the song, but it cheers not now, + For I did not bring home the river and sky;— + He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye. + The delicate shells lay on the shore; + The bubbles of the latest wave + Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, + And the bellowing of the savage sea + Greeted their safe escape to me. + I wiped away the weeds and foam, + I fetched my sea-born treasures home; + But the poor, unsightly, noisome things + Had left their beauty on the shore + With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. + The lover watched his graceful maid, + As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, + Nor knew her beauty's best attire + Was woven still by the snow-white choir. + At last she came to his hermitage, + Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;— + The gay enchantment was undone, + A gentle wife, but fairy none. + Then I said, 'I covet truth; + Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; + I leave it behind with the games of youth:'— + As I spoke, beneath my feet + The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, + Running over the club-moss burrs; + I inhaled the violet's breath; + Around me stood the oaks and firs; + Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; + Over me soared the eternal sky. + Full of light and of deity; + Again I saw, again I heard, + The rolling river, the morning bird;— + Beauty through my senses stole; + I yielded myself to the perfect whole. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PROBLEM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I like a church; I like a cowl; + I love a prophet of the soul; + And on my heart monastic aisles + Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles + Yet not for all his faith can see + Would I that cowlèd churchman be. + + Why should the vest on him allure, + Which I could not on me endure? + + Not from a vain or shallow thought + His awful Jove young Phidias brought; + Never from lips of cunning fell + The thrilling Delphic oracle; + Out from the heart of nature rolled + The burdens of the Bible old; + The litanies of nations came, + Like the volcano's tongue of flame, + Up from the burning core below,— + The canticles of love and woe: + The hand that rounded Peter's dome + And groined the aisles of Christian Rome + Wrought in a sad sincerity; + Himself from God he could not free; + He builded better than he knew;— + The conscious stone to beauty grew. + + Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest + Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? + Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, + Painting with morn each annual cell? + Or how the sacred pine-tree adds + To her old leaves new myriads? + Such and so grew these holy piles, + Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. + Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, + As the best gem upon her zone, + And Morning opes with haste her lids + To gaze upon the Pyramids; + O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, + As on its friends, with kindred eye; + For out of Thought's interior sphere + These wonders rose to upper air; + And Nature gladly gave them place, + Adopted them into her race, + And granted them an equal date + With Andes and with Ararat. + + These temples grew as grows the grass; + Art might obey, but not surpass. + The passive Master lent his hand + To the vast soul that o'er him planned; + And the same power that reared the shrine + Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. + Ever the fiery Pentecost + Girds with one flame the countless host, + Trances the heart through chanting choirs, + And through the priest the mind inspires. + The word unto the prophet spoken + Was writ on tables yet unbroken; + The word by seers or sibyls told, + In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, + Still floats upon the morning wind, + Still whispers to the willing mind. + One accent of the Holy Ghost + The heedless world hath never lost. + I know what say the fathers wise,— + The Book itself before me lies, + Old <i>Chrysostom</i>, best Augustine, + And he who blent both in his line, + The younger <i>Golden Lips</i> or mines, + Taylor, the Shakspeare of divines. + His words are music in my ear, + I see his cowlèd portrait dear; + And yet, for all his faith could see, + I would not the good bishop be. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO RHEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes, + Not with flatteries, but truths, + Which tarnish not, but purify + To light which dims the morning's eye. + I have come from the spring-woods, + From the fragrant solitudes;— + Listen what the poplar-tree + And murmuring waters counselled me. + + If with love thy heart has burned; + If thy love is unreturned; + Hide thy grief within thy breast, + Though it tear thee unexpressed; + For when love has once departed + From the eyes of the false-hearted, + And one by one has torn off quite + The bandages of purple light; + Though thou wert the loveliest + Form the soul had ever dressed, + Thou shalt seem, in each reply, + A vixen to his altered eye; + Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, + Thy praying lute will seem to scold; + Though thou kept the straightest road, + Yet thou errest far and broad. + + But thou shalt do as do the gods + In their cloudless periods; + For of this lore be thou sure,— + Though thou forget, the gods, secure, + Forget never their command, + But make the statute of this land. + As they lead, so follow all, + Ever have done, ever shall. + Warning to the blind and deaf, + 'T is written on the iron leaf, + <i>Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup</i> + <i>Loveth downward, and not up;</i> + He who loves, of gods or men, + Shall not by the same be loved again; + His sweetheart's idolatry + Falls, in turn, a new degree. + When a god is once beguiled + By beauty of a mortal child + And by her radiant youth delighted, + He is not fooled, but warily knoweth + His love shall never be requited. + And thus the wise Immortal doeth,— + 'T is his study and delight + To bless that creature day and night; + From all evils to defend her; + In her lap to pour all splendor; + To ransack earth for riches rare, + And fetch her stars to deck her hair: + He mixes music with her thoughts, + And saddens her with heavenly doubts: + All grace, all good his great heart knows, + Profuse in love, the king bestows, + Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air! + This monument of my despair + Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair. + Not for a private good, + But I, from my beatitude, + Albeit scorned as none was scorned, + Adorn her as was none adorned. + I make this maiden an ensample + To Nature, through her kingdoms ample, + Whereby to model newer races, + Statelier forms and fairer faces; + To carry man to new degrees + Of power and of comeliness. + These presents be the hostages + Which I pawn for my release. + See to thyself, O Universe! + Thou art better, and not worse.'— + And the god, having given all, + Is freed forever from his thrall. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VISIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' + Devastator of the day! + Know, each substance and relation, + Thorough nature's operation, + Hath its unit, bound and metre; + And every new compound + Is some product and repeater,— + Product of the earlier found. + But the unit of the visit, + The encounter of the wise,— + Say, what other metre is it + Than the meeting of the eyes? + Nature poureth into nature + Through the channels of that feature, + Riding on the ray of sight, + Fleeter far than whirlwinds go, + Or for service, or delight, + Hearts to hearts their meaning show, + Sum their long experience, + And import intelligence. + Single look has drained the breast; + Single moment years confessed. + The duration of a glance + Is the term of convenance, + And, though thy rede be church or state, + Frugal multiples of that. + Speeding Saturn cannot halt; + Linger,—thou shalt rue the fault: + If Love his moment overstay, + Hatred's swift repulsions play. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + URIEL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It fell in the ancient periods + Which the brooding soul surveys, + Or ever the wild Time coined itself + Into calendar months and days. + + This was the lapse of Uriel, + Which in Paradise befell. + Once, among the Pleiads walking, + Seyd overheard the young gods talking; + And the treason, too long pent, + To his ears was evident. + The young deities discussed + Laws of form, and metre just, + Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, + What subsisteth, and what seems. + One, with low tones that decide, + And doubt and reverend use defied, + With a look that solved the sphere, + And stirred the devils everywhere, + Gave his sentiment divine + Against the being of a line. + 'Line in nature is not found; + Unit and universe are round; + In vain produced, all rays return; + Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' + As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, + A shudder ran around the sky; + The stern old war-gods shook their heads, + The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; + Seemed to the holy festival + The rash word boded ill to all; + The balance-beam of Fate was bent; + The bounds of good and ill were rent; + Strong Hades could not keep his own, + But all slid to confusion. + + A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell + On the beauty of Uriel; + In heaven once eminent, the god + Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; + Whether doomed to long gyration + In the sea of generation, + Or by knowledge grown too bright + To hit the nerve of feebler sight. + Straightway, a forgetting wind + Stole over the celestial kind, + And their lips the secret kept, + If in ashes the fire-seed slept. + But now and then, truth-speaking things + Shamed the angels' veiling wings; + And, shrilling from the solar course, + Or from fruit of chemic force, + Procession of a soul in matter, + Or the speeding change of water, + Or out of the good of evil born, + Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, + And a blush tinged the upper sky, + And the gods shook, they knew not why. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WORLD-SOUL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thanks to the morning light, + Thanks to the foaming sea, + To the uplands of New Hampshire, + To the green-haired forest free; + Thanks to each man of courage, + To the maids of holy mind, + To the boy with his games undaunted + Who never looks behind. + + Cities of proud hotels, + Houses of rich and great, + Vice nestles in your chambers, + Beneath your roofs of slate. + It cannot conquer folly,— + Time-and-space-conquering steam,— + And the light-outspeeding telegraph + Bears nothing on its beam. + + The politics are base; + The letters do not cheer; + And 'tis far in the deeps of history, + The voice that speaketh clear. + Trade and the streets ensnare us, + Our bodies are weak and worn; + We plot and corrupt each other, + And we despoil the unborn. + + Yet there in the parlor sits + Some figure of noble guise,— + Our angel, in a stranger's form, + Or woman's pleading eyes; + Or only a flashing sunbeam + In at the window-pane; + Or Music pours on mortals + Its beautiful disdain. + + The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be; + And be sure the all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. + Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky between the walls, + Hold all the hidden wonders + In scanty intervals. + + Alas! the Sprite that haunts us + Deceives our rash desire; + It whispers of the glorious gods, + And leaves us in the mire. + We cannot learn the cipher + That's writ upon our cell; + Stars taunt us by a mystery + Which we could never spell. + + If but one hero knew it, + The world would blush in flame; + The sage, till he hit the secret, + Would hang his head for shame. + Our brothers have not read it, + Not one has found the key; + And henceforth we are comforted,— + We are but such as they. + + Still, still the secret presses; + The nearing clouds draw down; + The crimson morning flames into + The fopperies of the town. + Within, without the idle earth, + Stars weave eternal rings; + The sun himself shines heartily, + And shares the joy he brings. + + And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, + And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o'er?— + They are but sailing foam-bells + Along Thought's causing stream, + And take their shape and sun-color + From him that sends the dream. + + For Destiny never swerves + Nor yields to men the helm; + He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves, + Throughout the solid realm. + The patient Daemon sits, + With roses and a shroud; + He has his way, and deals his gifts,— + But ours is not allowed. + + He is no churl nor trifler, + And his viceroy is none,— + Love-without-weakness,— + Of Genius sire and son. + And his will is not thwarted; + The seeds of land and sea + Are the atoms of his body bright, + And his behest obey. + + He serveth the servant, + The brave he loves amain; + He kills the cripple and the sick, + And straight begins again; + For gods delight in gods, + And thrust the weak aside; + To him who scorns their charities + Their arms fly open wide. + + When the old world is sterile + And the ages are effete, + He will from wrecks and sediment + The fairer world complete. + He forbids to despair; + His cheeks mantle with mirth; + And the unimagined good of men + Is yeaning at the birth. + + Spring still makes spring in the mind + When sixty years are told; + Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, + And we are never old; + Over the winter glaciers + I see the summer glow, + And through the wild-piled snow-drift + The warm rosebuds below. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SPHINX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Sphinx is drowsy, + Her wings are furled: + Her ear is heavy, + She broods on the world. + "Who'll tell me my secret, + The ages have kept?— + I awaited the seer + While they slumbered and slept:— + + "The fate of the man-child, + The meaning of man; + Known fruit of the unknown; + Daedalian plan; + Out of sleeping a waking, + Out of waking a sleep; + Life death overtaking; + Deep underneath deep? + + "Erect as a sunbeam, + Upspringeth the palm; + The elephant browses, + Undaunted and calm; + In beautiful motion + The thrush plies his wings; + Kind leaves of his covert, + Your silence he sings. + + "The waves, unashamèd, + In difference sweet, + Play glad with the breezes, + Old playfellows meet; + The journeying atoms, + Primordial wholes, + Firmly draw, firmly drive, + By their animate poles. + + "Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. + Plant, quadruped, bird, + By one music enchanted, + One deity stirred,— + Each the other adorning, + Accompany still; + Night veileth the morning, + The vapor the hill. + + "The babe by its mother + Lies bathèd in joy; + Glide its hours uncounted,— + The sun is its toy; + Shines the peace of all being, + Without cloud, in its eyes; + And the sum of the world + In soft miniature lies. + + "But man crouches and blushes, + Absconds and conceals; + He creepeth and peepeth, + He palters and steals; + Infirm, melancholy, + Jealous glancing around, + An oaf, an accomplice, + He poisons the ground. + + "Out spoke the great mother, + Beholding his fear;— + At the sound of her accents + Cold shuddered the sphere:— + 'Who has drugged my boy's cup? + Who has mixed my boy's bread? + Who, with sadness and madness, + Has turned my child's head?'" + + I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, + 'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. + Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; + They fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime. + + "The fiend that man harries + Is love of the Best; + Yawns the pit of the Dragon, + Lit by rays from the Blest. + The Lethe of Nature + Can't trance him again, + Whose soul sees the perfect, + Which his eyes seek in vain. + + "To vision profounder, + Man's spirit must dive; + His aye-rolling orb + At no goal will arrive; + The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, + Once found,—for new heavens + He spurneth the old. + + "Pride ruined the angels, + Their shame them restores; + Lurks the joy that is sweetest + In stings of remorse. + Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?— + I would he were nobler + Than to love me. + + "Eterne alternation + Now follows, now flies; + And under pain, pleasure,— + Under pleasure, pain lies. + Love works at the centre, + Heart-heaving alway; + Forth speed the strong pulses + To the borders of day. + + "Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; + Thy sight is growing blear; + Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, + Her muddy eyes to clear!" + The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,— + Said, "Who taught thee me to name? + I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow; + Of thine eye I am eyebeam. + + "Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, + Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. + So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; + Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply." + + Uprose the merry Sphinx, + And crouched no more in stone; + She melted into purple cloud, + She silvered in the moon; + She spired into a yellow flame; + She flowered in blossoms red; + She flowed into a foaming wave: + She stood Monadnoc's head. + + Thorough a thousand voices + Spoke the universal dame; + "Who telleth one of my meanings + Is master of all I am." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I, Alphonso, live and learn, + Seeing Nature go astern. + Things deteriorate in kind; + Lemons run to leaves and rind; + Meagre crop of figs and limes; + Shorter days and harder times. + Flowering April cools and dies + In the insufficient skies. + Imps, at high midsummer, blot + Half the sun's disk with a spot; + 'Twill not now avail to tan + Orange cheek or skin of man. + Roses bleach, the goats are dry, + Lisbon quakes, the people cry. + Yon pale, scrawny fisher fools, + Gaunt as bitterns in the pools, + Are no brothers of my blood;— + They discredit Adamhood. + Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, + O'er your ramparts as ye lean, + The general debility; + Of genius the sterility; + Mighty projects countermanded; + Rash ambition, brokenhanded; + Puny man and scentless rose + Tormenting Pan to double the dose. + Rebuild or ruin: either fill + Of vital force the wasted rill, + Or tumble all again in heap + To weltering Chaos and to sleep. + + Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, + Which fed the veins of earth and sky, + That mortals miss the loyal heats, + Which drove them erst to social feats; + Now, to a savage selfness grown, + Think nature barely serves for one; + With science poorly mask their hurt; + And vex the gods with question pert, + Immensely curious whether you + Still are rulers, or Mildew? + + Masters, I'm in pain with you; + Masters, I'll be plain with you; + In my palace of Castile, + I, a king, for kings can feel. + There my thoughts the matter roll, + And solve and oft resolve the whole. + And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, + Ye shall not fail for sound advice. + Before ye want a drop of rain, + Hear the sentiment of Spain. + + You have tried famine: no more try it; + Ply us now with a full diet; + Teach your pupils now with plenty, + For one sun supply us twenty. + I have thought it thoroughly over,— + State of hermit, state of lover; + We must have society, + We cannot spare variety. + Hear you, then, celestial fellows! + Fits not to be overzealous; + Steads not to work on the clean jump, + Nor wine nor brains perpetual pump. + Men and gods are too extense; + Could you slacken and condense? + Your rank overgrowths reduce + Till your kinds abound with juice? + Earth, crowded, cries, 'Too many men!' + My counsel is, kill nine in ten, + And bestow the shares of all + On the remnant decimal. + Add their nine lives to this cat; + Stuff their nine brains in one hat; + Make his frame and forces square + With the labors he must dare; + Thatch his flesh, and even his years + With the marble which he rears. + There, growing slowly old at ease + No faster than his planted trees, + He may, by warrant of his age, + In schemes of broader scope engage. + So shall ye have a man of the sphere + Fit to grace the solar year. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MITHRIDATES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot spare water or wine, + Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; + From the earth-poles to the Line, + All between that works or grows, + Every thing is kin of mine. + + Give me agates for my meat; + Give me cantharids to eat; + From air and ocean bring me foods, + From all zones and altitudes;— + + From all natures, sharp and slimy, + Salt and basalt, wild and tame: + Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, + Bird, and reptile, be my game. + + Ivy for my fillet band; + Blinding dog-wood in my hand; + Hemlock for my sherbet cull me, + And the prussic juice to lull me; + Swing me in the upas boughs, + Vampyre-fanned, when I carouse. + + Too long shut in strait and few, + Thinly dieted on dew, + I will use the world, and sift it, + To a thousand humors shift it, + As you spin a cherry. + O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry! + O all you virtues, methods, mights, + Means, appliances, delights, + Reputed wrongs and braggart rights, + Smug routine, and things allowed, + Minorities, things under cloud! + Hither! take me, use me, fill me, + Vein and artery, though ye kill me! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO J.W. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Set not thy foot on graves; + Hear what wine and roses say; + The mountain chase, the summer waves, + The crowded town, thy feet may well delay. + + Set not thy foot on graves; + Nor seek to unwind the shroud + Which charitable Time + And Nature have allowed + To wrap the errors of a sage sublime. + + Set not thy foot on graves; + Care not to strip the dead + Of his sad ornament, + His myrrh, and wine, and rings, + + His sheet of lead, + And trophies buried: + Go, get them where he earned them when alive; + As resolutely dig or dive. + + Life is too short to waste + In critic peep or cynic bark, + Quarrel or reprimand: + 'T will soon be dark; + Up! mind thine own aim, and + God speed the mark! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DESTINY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That you are fair or wise is vain, + Or strong, or rich, or generous; + You must add the untaught strain + That sheds beauty on the rose. + There's a melody born of melody, + Which melts the world into a sea. + Toil could never compass it; + Art its height could never hit; + It came never out of wit; + But a music music-born + Well may Jove and Juno scorn. + Thy beauty, if it lack the fire + Which drives me mad with sweet desire, + What boots it? What the soldier's mail, + Unless he conquer and prevail? + What all the goods thy pride which lift, + If thou pine for another's gift? + Alas! that one is born in blight, + Victim of perpetual slight: + When thou lookest on his face, + Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! + None shall ask thee what thou doest, + Or care a rush for what thou knowest, + Or listen when thou repliest, + Or remember where thou liest, + Or how thy supper is sodden;' + And another is born + To make the sun forgotten. + Surely he carries a talisman + Under his tongue; + Broad his shoulders are and strong; + And his eye is scornful, + Threatening and young. + I hold it of little matter + Whether your jewel be of pure water, + A rose diamond or a white, + But whether it dazzle me with light. + I care not how you are dressed, + In coarsest weeds or in the best; + Nor whether your name is base or brave: + Nor for the fashion of your behavior; + But whether you charm me, + Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me + And dress up Nature in your favor. + One thing is forever good; + That one thing is Success,— + Dear to the Eumenides, + And to all the heavenly brood. + Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, + Carries the eagles, and masters the sword. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GUY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mortal mixed of middle clay, + Attempered to the night and day, + Interchangeable with things, + Needs no amulets nor rings. + Guy possessed the talisman + That all things from him began; + And as, of old, Polycrates + Chained the sunshine and the breeze, + So did Guy betimes discover + Fortune was his guard and lover; + In strange junctures, felt, with awe, + His own symmetry with law; + That no mixture could withstand + The virtue of his lucky hand. + He gold or jewel could not lose, + Nor not receive his ample dues. + Fearless Guy had never foes, + He did their weapons decompose. + Aimed at him, the blushing blade + Healed as fast the wounds it made. + If on the foeman fell his gaze, + Him it would straightway blind or craze, + In the street, if he turned round, + His eye the eye 't was seeking found. + + It seemed his Genius discreet + Worked on the Maker's own receipt, + And made each tide and element + Stewards of stipend and of rent; + So that the common waters fell + As costly wine into his well. + He had so sped his wise affairs + That he caught Nature in his snares. + Early or late, the falling rain + Arrived in time to swell his grain; + Stream could not so perversely wind + But corn of Guy's was there to grind: + The siroc found it on its way, + To speed his sails, to dry his hay; + And the world's sun seemed to rise + To drudge all day for Guy the wise. + In his rich nurseries, timely skill + Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; + The zephyr in his garden rolled + From plum-trees vegetable gold; + And all the hours of the year + With their own harvest honored were. + There was no frost but welcome came, + Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. + Belonged to wind and world the toil + And venture, and to Guy the oil. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HAMATREYA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, + Possessed the land which rendered to their toil + Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood. + Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm, + Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's. + How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees! + How graceful climb those shadows on my hill! + I fancy these pure waters and the flags + Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize; + And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.' + + Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds: + And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. + Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys + Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; + Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet + Clear of the grave. + They added ridge to valley, brook to pond, + And sighed for all that bounded their domain; + 'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park; + We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge, + And misty lowland, where to go for peat. + The land is well,—lies fairly to the south. + 'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back, + To find the sitfast acres where you left them.' + Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds + Him to his land, a lump of mould the more. + Hear what the Earth says:— + + EARTH-SONG + + 'Mine and yours; + Mine, not yours. + Earth endures; + Stars abide— + Shine down in the old sea; + Old are the shores; + But where are old men? + I who have seen much, + Such have I never seen. + + 'The lawyer's deed + Ran sure, + In tail, + To them, and to their heirs + Who shall succeed, + Without fail, + Forevermore. + + 'Here is the land, + Shaggy with wood, + With its old valley, + Mound and flood. + But the heritors?— + + Fled like the flood's foam. + The lawyer, and the laws, + And the kingdom, + Clean swept herefrom. + + 'They called me theirs, + Who so controlled me; + Yet every one + Wished to stay, and is gone, + How am I theirs, + If they cannot hold me, + But I hold them?' + + When I heard the Earth-song + I was no longer brave; + My avarice cooled + Like lust in the chill of the grave. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RHODORA: + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? + + In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, + I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, + Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, + To please the desert and the sluggish brook. + The purple petals, fallen in the pool, + Made the black water with their beauty gay; + Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. + And court the flower that cheapens his array. + Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why + This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, + Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, + Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: + Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! + I never thought to ask, I never knew: + But, in my simple ignorance, suppose + The self-same Power that brought me there brought you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HUMBLE-BEE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Burly, dozing humble-bee, + Where thou art is clime for me. + Let them sail for Porto Rique, + Far-off heats through seas to seek; + I will follow thee alone, + Thou animated torrid-zone! + Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, + Let me chase thy waving lines; + Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, + Singing over shrubs and vines. + + Insect lover of the sun, + Joy of thy dominion! + Sailor of the atmosphere; + Swimmer through the waves of air; + Voyager of light and noon; + Epicurean of June; + Wait, I prithee, till I come + Within earshot of thy hum,— + All without is martyrdom. + + When the south wind, in May days, + With a net of shining haze + Silvers the horizon wall, + And with softness touching all, + Tints the human countenance + With a color of romance, + And infusing subtle heats, + Turns the sod to violets, + Thou, in sunny solitudes, + Rover of the underwoods, + The green silence dost displace + With thy mellow, breezy bass. + + Hot midsummer's petted crone, + Sweet to me thy drowsy tone + Tells of countless sunny hours, + Long days, and solid banks of flowers; + Of gulfs of sweetness without bound + In Indian wildernesses found; + Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, + Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. + + Aught unsavory or unclean + Hath my insect never seen; + But violets and bilberry bells, + Maple-sap and daffodels, + Grass with green flag half-mast high, + Succory to match the sky, + Columbine with horn of honey, + Scented fern, and agrimony, + Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue + And brier-roses, dwelt among; + All beside was unknown waste, + All was picture as he passed. + + Wiser far than human seer, + Yellow-breeched philosopher! + Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet, + Thou dost mock at fate and care, + Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. + When the fierce northwestern blast + Cools sea and land so far and fast, + Thou already slumberest deep; + Woe and want thou canst outsleep; + Want and woe, which torture us, + Thy sleep makes ridiculous. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BERRYING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'May be true what I had heard,— + Earth's a howling wilderness, + Truculent with fraud and force,' + Said I, strolling through the pastures, + And along the river-side. + Caught among the blackberry vines, + Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, + Pleasant fancies overtook me. + I said, 'What influence me preferred, + Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' + The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem + No wisdom from our berries went?' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SNOW-STORM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, + And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. + The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet + Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit + Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed + In a tumultuous privacy of storm. + + Come see the north wind's masonry. + Out of an unseen quarry + Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer + Curves his white bastions with projected roof + Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. + Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work + So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he + For number or proportion. Mockingly, + On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; + A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; + Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, + Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate + A tapering turret overtops the work. + And when his hours are numbered, and the world + Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, + Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art + To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, + Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, + The frolic architecture of the snow. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOODNOTES I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1 + + When the pine tosses its cones + To the song of its waterfall tones, + Who speeds to the woodland walks? + To birds and trees who talks? + Caesar of his leafy Rome, + There the poet is at home. + He goes to the river-side,— + Not hook nor line hath he; + He stands in the meadows wide,— + Nor gun nor scythe to see. + Sure some god his eye enchants: + What he knows nobody wants. + In the wood he travels glad, + Without better fortune had, + Melancholy without bad. + Knowledge this man prizes best + Seems fantastic to the rest: + Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, + Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, + Boughs on which the wild bees settle, + Tints that spot the violet's petal, + Why Nature loves the number five, + And why the star-form she repeats: + Lover of all things alive, + Wonderer at all he meets, + Wonderer chiefly at himself, + Who can tell him what he is? + Or how meet in human elf + Coming and past eternities? + + 2 + + And such I knew, a forest seer, + A minstrel of the natural year, + Foreteller of the vernal ides, + Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, + A lover true, who knew by heart + Each joy the mountain dales impart; + It seemed that Nature could not raise + A plant in any secret place, + In quaking bog, on snowy hill, + Beneath the grass that shades the rill, + Under the snow, between the rocks, + In damp fields known to bird and fox. + But he would come in the very hour + It opened in its virgin bower, + As if a sunbeam showed the place, + And tell its long-descended race. + It seemed as if the breezes brought him, + It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; + As if by secret sight he knew + Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. + Many haps fall in the field + Seldom seen by wishful eyes, + But all her shows did Nature yield, + To please and win this pilgrim wise. + He saw the partridge drum in the woods; + He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; + He found the tawny thrushes' broods; + And the shy hawk did wait for him; + What others did at distance hear, + And guessed within the thicket's gloom, + Was shown to this philosopher, + And at his bidding seemed to come. + + 3 + + In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang + Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; + He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon + The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; + Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, + And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. + He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, + The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, + And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, + Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. + He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, + With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,— + One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, + Declares the close of its green century. + Low lies the plant to whose creation went + Sweet influence from every element; + Whose living towers the years conspired to build, + Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. + Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, + He roamed, content alike with man and beast. + Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; + There the red morning touched him with its light. + Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, + So long he roved at will the boundless shade. + The timid it concerns to ask their way, + And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, + To make no step until the event is known, + And ills to come as evils past bemoan. + Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps + To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; + Go where he will, the wise man is at home, + His hearth the earth,—his hall the azure dome; + Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road + By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. + + 4 + + 'T was one of the charmèd days + When the genius of God doth flow; + The wind may alter twenty ways, + A tempest cannot blow; + It may blow north, it still is warm; + Or south, it still is clear; + Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; + Or west, no thunder fear. + The musing peasant, lowly great, + Beside the forest water sate; + The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown + Composed the network of his throne; + The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, + Was burnished to a floor of glass, + Painted with shadows green and proud + Of the tree and of the cloud. + He was the heart of all the scene; + On him the sun looked more serene; + To hill and cloud his face was known,— + It seemed the likeness of their own; + They knew by secret sympathy + The public child of earth and sky. + 'You ask,' he said, 'what guide + Me through trackless thickets led, + Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. + I found the water's bed. + The watercourses were my guide; + I travelled grateful by their side, + Or through their channel dry; + They led me through the thicket damp, + Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, + Through beds of granite cut my road, + And their resistless friendship showed. + The falling waters led me, + The foodful waters fed me, + And brought me to the lowest land, + Unerring to the ocean sand. + The moss upon the forest bark + Was pole-star when the night was dark; + The purple berries in the wood + Supplied me necessary food; + For Nature ever faithful is + To such as trust her faithfulness. + When the forest shall mislead me, + When the night and morning lie, + When sea and land refuse to feed me, + 'T will be time enough to die; + Then will yet my mother yield + A pillow in her greenest field, + Nor the June flowers scorn to cover + The clay of their departed lover.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WOODNOTES II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>As sunbeams stream through liberal space</i> + <i>And nothing jostle or displace,</i> + <i>So waved the pine-tree through my thought</i> + <i>And fanned the dreams it never brought.</i> + + 'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? + Come to me,' + Quoth the pine-tree, + 'I am the giver of honor. + My garden is the cloven rock, + And my manure the snow; + And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, + In summer's scorching glow. + He is great who can live by me: + The rough and bearded forester + Is better than the lord; + God fills the script and canister, + Sin piles the loaded board. + The lord is the peasant that was, + The peasant the lord that shall be; + The lord is hay, the peasant grass, + One dry, and one the living tree. + Who liveth by the ragged pine + Foundeth a heroic line; + Who liveth in the palace hall + Waneth fast and spendeth all. + He goes to my savage haunts, + With his chariot and his care; + My twilight realm he disenchants, + And finds his prison there. + + 'What prizes the town and the tower? + Only what the pine-tree yields; + Sinew that subdued the fields; + The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods + Chants his hymn to hills and floods, + Whom the city's poisoning spleen + Made not pale, or fat, or lean; + Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, + Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, + In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, + In whose feet the lion rusheth, + Iron arms, and iron mould, + That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. + I give my rafters to his boat, + My billets to his boiler's throat, + And I will swim the ancient sea + To float my child to victory, + And grant to dwellers with the pine + Dominion o'er the palm and vine. + Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, + Unnerves his strength, invites his end. + Cut a bough from my parent stem, + And dip it in thy porcelain vase; + A little while each russet gem + Will swell and rise with wonted grace; + But when it seeks enlarged supplies, + The orphan of the forest dies. + Whoso walks in solitude + And inhabiteth the wood, + Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, + Before the money-loving herd, + Into that forester shall pass, + From these companions, power and grace. + Clean shall he be, without, within, + From the old adhering sin, + All ill dissolving in the light + Of his triumphant piercing sight: + Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; + Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; + Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, + And of all other men desired. + On him the light of star and moon + Shall fall with purer radiance down; + All constellations of the sky + Shed their virtue through his eye. + Him Nature giveth for defence + His formidable innocence; + The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, + All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; + He shall meet the speeding year, + Without wailing, without fear; + He shall be happy in his love, + Like to like shall joyful prove; + He shall be happy whilst he wooes, + Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. + But if with gold she bind her hair, + And deck her breast with diamond, + Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, + Though thou lie alone on the ground. + + 'Heed the old oracles, + Ponder my spells; + Song wakes in my pinnacles + When the wind swells. + Soundeth the prophetic wind, + The shadows shake on the rock behind, + And the countless leaves of the pine are strings + Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. + Hearken! Hearken! + If thou wouldst know the mystic song + Chanted when the sphere was young. + Aloft, abroad, the paean swells; + O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? + O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? + 'Tis the chronicle of art. + To the open ear it sings + Sweet the genesis of things, + Of tendency through endless ages, + Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, + Of rounded worlds, of space and time, + Of the old flood's subsiding slime, + Of chemic matter, force and form, + Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: + The rushing metamorphosis + Dissolving all that fixture is, + Melts things that be to things that seem, + And solid nature to a dream. + O, listen to the undersong, + The ever old, the ever young; + And, far within those cadent pauses, + The chorus of the ancient Causes! + Delights the dreadful Destiny + To fling his voice into the tree, + And shock thy weak ear with a note + Breathed from the everlasting throat. + In music he repeats the pang + Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. + O mortal! thy ears are stones; + These echoes are laden with tones + Which only the pure can hear; + Thou canst not catch what they recite + Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, + Of man to come, of human life, + Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' + + Once again the pine-tree sung:— + 'Speak not thy speech my boughs among: + Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; + My hours are peaceful centuries. + Talk no more with feeble tongue; + No more the fool of space and time, + Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. + Only thy Americans + Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, + But the runes that I rehearse + Understands the universe; + The least breath my boughs which tossed + Brings again the Pentecost; + To every soul resounding clear + In a voice of solemn cheer,— + "Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" + And they reply, "Forever mine!" + My branches speak Italian, + English, German, Basque, Castilian, + Mountain speech to Highlanders, + Ocean tongues to islanders, + To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, + To each his bosom-secret say. + + 'Come learn with me the fatal song + Which knits the world in music strong, + Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, + Of things with things, of times with times, + Primal chimes of sun and shade, + Of sound and echo, man and maid, + The land reflected in the flood, + Body with shadow still pursued. + For Nature beats in perfect tune, + And rounds with rhyme her every rune, + Whether she work in land or sea, + Or hide underground her alchemy. + Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, + Or dip thy paddle in the lake, + But it carves the bow of beauty there, + And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. + The wood is wiser far than thou; + The wood and wave each other know + Not unrelated, unaffied, + But to each thought and thing allied, + Is perfect Nature's every part, + Rooted in the mighty Heart, + But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, + Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, + Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? + Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? + Who thee divorced, deceived and left? + Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, + And torn the ensigns from thy brow, + And sunk the immortal eye so low? + Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, + Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender + For royal man;—they thee confess + An exile from the wilderness,— + The hills where health with health agrees, + And the wise soul expels disease. + Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign + By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. + When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, + Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, + To thee the horizon shall express + But emptiness on emptiness; + There lives no man of Nature's worth + In the circle of the earth; + And to thine eye the vast skies fall, + Dire and satirical, + On clucking hens and prating fools, + On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. + And thou shalt say to the Most High, + "Godhead! all this astronomy, + And fate and practice and invention, + Strong art and beautiful pretension, + This radiant pomp of sun and star, + Throes that were, and worlds that are, + Behold! were in vain and in vain;— + It cannot be,—I will look again. + Surely now will the curtain rise, + And earth's fit tenant me surprise;— + But the curtain doth <i>not</i> rise, + And Nature has miscarried wholly + Into failure, into folly." + + 'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, + Blessed Nature so to see. + Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, + And heal the hurts which sin has made. + I see thee in the crowd alone; + I will be thy companion. + Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, + And build to them a final tomb; + Let the starred shade that nightly falls + Still celebrate their funerals, + And the bell of beetle and of bee + Knell their melodious memory. + Behind thee leave thy merchandise, + Thy churches and thy charities; + And leave thy peacock wit behind; + Enough for thee the primal mind + That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: + Leave all thy pedant lore apart; + God hid the whole world in thy heart. + Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, + Gives all to them who all renounce. + The rain comes when the wind calls; + The river knows the way to the sea; + Without a pilot it runs and falls, + Blessing all lands with its charity; + The sea tosses and foams to find + Its way up to the cloud and wind; + The shadow sits close to the flying ball; + The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; + And thou,—go burn thy wormy pages,— + Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. + Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain + To find what bird had piped the strain:— + Seek not, and the little eremite + Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. + + 'Hearken once more! + I will tell thee the mundane lore. + Older am I than thy numbers wot, + Change I may, but I pass not. + Hitherto all things fast abide, + And anchored in the tempest ride. + Trenchant time behoves to hurry + All to yean and all to bury: + All the forms are fugitive, + But the substances survive. + Ever fresh the broad creation, + A divine improvisation, + From the heart of God proceeds, + A single will, a million deeds. + Once slept the world an egg of stone, + And pulse, and sound, and light was none; + And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion + And the vast mass became vast ocean. + Onward and on, the eternal Pan, + Who layeth the world's incessant plan, + Halteth never in one shape, + But forever doth escape, + Like wave or flame, into new forms + Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. + I, that to-day am a pine, + Yesterday was a bundle of grass. + He is free and libertine, + Pouring of his power the wine + To every age, to every race; + Unto every race and age + He emptieth the beverage; + Unto each, and unto all, + Maker and original. + The world is the ring of his spells, + And the play of his miracles. + As he giveth to all to drink, + Thus or thus they are and think. + With one drop sheds form and feature; + With the next a special nature; + The third adds heat's indulgent spark; + The fourth gives light which eats the dark; + Into the fifth himself he flings, + And conscious Law is King of kings. + As the bee through the garden ranges, + From world to world the godhead changes; + As the sheep go feeding in the waste, + From form to form He maketh haste; + This vault which glows immense with light + Is the inn where he lodges for a night. + What recks such Traveller if the bowers + Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers + A bunch of fragrant lilies be, + Or the stars of eternity? + Alike to him the better, the worse,— + The glowing angel, the outcast corse. + Thou metest him by centuries, + And lo! he passes like the breeze; + Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, + He hides in pure transparency; + Thou askest in fountains and in fires, + He is the essence that inquires. + He is the axis of the star; + He is the sparkle of the spar; + He is the heart of every creature; + He is the meaning of each feature; + And his mind is the sky. + Than all it holds more deep, more high.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONADNOC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thousand minstrels woke within me, + 'Our music's in the hills;'— + Gayest pictures rose to win me, + Leopard-colored rills. + 'Up!—If thou knew'st who calls + To twilight parks of beech and pine, + High over the river intervals, + Above the ploughman's highest line, + Over the owner's farthest walls! + Up! where the airy citadel + O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell! + Let not unto the stones the Day + Her lily and rose, her sea and land display. + Read the celestial sign! + Lo! the south answers to the north; + Bookworm, break this sloth urbane; + A greater spirit bids thee forth + Than the gray dreams which thee detain. + Mark how the climbing Oreads + Beckon thee to their arcades; + Youth, for a moment free as they, + Teach thy feet to feel the ground, + Ere yet arrives the wintry day + When Time thy feet has bound. + Take the bounty of thy birth, + Taste the lordship of the earth.' + + I heard, and I obeyed,— + Assured that he who made the claim, + Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid. + Ere yet the summoning voice was still, + I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill. + From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed + Like ample banner flung abroad + To all the dwellers in the plains + Round about, a hundred miles, + With salutation to the sea and to the bordering isles. + In his own loom's garment dressed, + By his proper bounty blessed, + Fast abides this constant giver, + Pouring many a cheerful river; + To far eyes, an aerial isle + Unploughed, which finer spirits pile, + Which morn and crimson evening paint + For bard, for lover and for saint; + An eyemark and the country's core, + Inspirer, prophet evermore; + Pillar which God aloft had set + So that men might it not forget; + It should be their life's ornament, + And mix itself with each event; + Gauge and calendar and dial, + Weatherglass and chemic phial, + Garden of berries, perch of birds, + Pasture of pool-haunting herds, + Graced by each change of sum untold, + Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold. + + The Titan heeds his sky-affairs, + Rich rents and wide alliance shares; + Mysteries of color daily laid + By morn and eve in light and shade; + And sweet varieties of chance, + And the mystic seasons' dance; + And thief-like step of liberal hours + Thawing snow-drift into flowers. + O, wondrous craft of plant and stone + By eldest science wrought and shown! + + 'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here! + Fair fortunes to the mountaineer! + Boon Nature to his poorest shed + Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.' + Intent, I searched the region round, + And in low hut the dweller found: + Woe is me for my hope's downfall! + Is yonder squalid peasant all + That this proud nursery could breed + For God's vicegerency and stead? + Time out of mind, this forge of ores; + Quarry of spars in mountain pores; + Old cradle, hunting-ground and bier + Of wolf and otter, bear and deer; + Well-built abode of many a race; + Tower of observance searching space; + Factory of river and of rain; + Link in the Alps' globe-girding chain; + By million changes skilled to tell + What in the Eternal standeth well, + And what obedient Nature can;— + Is this colossal talisman + Kindly to plant and blood and kind, + But speechless to the master's mind? + I thought to find the patriots + In whom the stock of freedom roots; + To myself I oft recount + Tales of many a famous mount,— + Wales, Scotland, Uri, Hungary's dells: + Bards, Roys, Scanderbegs and Tells; + And think how Nature in these towers + Uplifted shall condense her powers, + And lifting man to the blue deep + Where stars their perfect courses keep, + Like wise preceptor, lure his eye + To sound the science of the sky, + And carry learning to its height + Of untried power and sane delight: + The Indian cheer, the frosty skies, + Rear purer wits, inventive eyes,— + Eyes that frame cities where none be, + And hands that stablish what these see: + And by the moral of his place + Hint summits of heroic grace; + Man in these crags a fastness find + To fight pollution of the mind; + In the wide thaw and ooze of wrong, + Adhere like this foundation strong, + The insanity of towns to stem + With simpleness for stratagem. + But if the brave old mould is broke, + And end in churls the mountain folk + In tavern cheer and tavern joke, + Sink, O mountain, in the swamp! + Hide in thy skies, O sovereign lamp! + Perish like leaves, the highland breed + No sire survive, no son succeed! + + Soft! let not the offended muse + Toil's hard hap with scorn accuse. + Many hamlets sought I then, + Many farms of mountain men. + Rallying round a parish steeple + Nestle warm the highland people, + Coarse and boisterous, yet mild, + Strong as giant, slow as child. + Sweat and season are their arts, + Their talismans are ploughs and carts; + And well the youngest can command + Honey from the frozen land; + With cloverheads the swamp adorn, + Change the running sand to corn; + For wolf and fox, bring lowing herds, + And for cold mosses, cream and curds: + Weave wood to canisters and mats; + Drain sweet maple juice in vats. + No bird is safe that cuts the air + From their rifle or their snare; + No fish, in river or in lake, + But their long hands it thence will take; + Whilst the country's flinty face, + Like wax, their fashioning skill betrays, + To fill the hollows, sink the hills, + Bridge gulfs, drain swamps, build dams and mills, + And fit the bleak and howling waste + For homes of virtue, sense and taste. + The World-soul knows his own affair, + Forelooking, when he would prepare + For the next ages, men of mould + Well embodied, well ensouled, + He cools the present's fiery glow, + Sets the life-pulse strong but slow: + Bitter winds and fasts austere + His quarantines and grottoes, where + He slowly cures decrepit flesh, + And brings it infantile and fresh. + Toil and tempest are the toys + And games to breathe his stalwart boys: + They bide their time, and well can prove, + If need were, their line from Jove; + Of the same stuff, and so allayed, + As that whereof the sun is made, + And of the fibre, quick and strong, + Whose throbs are love, whose thrills are song. + + Now in sordid weeds they sleep, + In dulness now their secret keep; + Yet, will you learn our ancient speech, + These the masters who can teach. + Fourscore or a hundred words + All their vocal muse affords; + But they turn them in a fashion + Past clerks' or statesmen's art or passion. + I can spare the college bell, + And the learned lecture, well; + Spare the clergy and libraries, + Institutes and dictionaries, + For that hardy English root + Thrives here, unvalued, underfoot. + Rude poets of the tavern hearth, + Squandering your unquoted mirth, + Which keeps the ground and never soars, + While Jake retorts and Reuben roars; + Scoff of yeoman strong and stark, + Goes like bullet to its mark; + While the solid curse and jeer + Never balk the waiting ear. + + On the summit as I stood, + O'er the floor of plain and flood + Seemed to me, the towering hill + Was not altogether still, + But a quiet sense conveyed: + If I err not, thus it said:— + + 'Many feet in summer seek, + Oft, my far-appearing peak; + In the dreaded winter time, + None save dappling shadows climb, + Under clouds, my lonely head, + Old as the sun, old almost as the shade; + And comest thou + To see strange forests and new snow, + And tread uplifted land? + And leavest thou thy lowland race, + Here amid clouds to stand? + And wouldst be my companion + Where I gaze, and still shall gaze, + Through tempering nights and flashing days, + When forests fall, and man is gone, + Over tribes and over times, + At the burning Lyre, + Nearing me, + With its stars of northern fire, + In many a thousand years? + + 'Gentle pilgrim, if thou know + The gamut old of Pan, + And how the hills began, + The frank blessings of the hill + Fall on thee, as fall they will. + + 'Let him heed who can and will; + Enchantment fixed me here + To stand the hurts of time, until + In mightier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest + How the chemic eddies play, + Pole to pole, and what they say; + And that these gray crags + Not on crags are hung, + But beads are of a rosary + On prayer and music strung; + And, credulous, through the granite seeming, + Seest the smile of Reason beaming;— + Can thy style-discerning eye + The hidden-working Builder spy, + Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din, + With hammer soft as snowflake's flight;— + Knowest thou this? + O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! + Already my rocks lie light, + And soon my cone will spin. + + 'For the world was built in order, + And the atoms march in tune; + Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, + The sun obeys them and the moon. + Orb and atom forth they prance, + When they hear from far the rune; + None so backward in the troop, + When the music and the dance + Reach his place and circumstance, + But knows the sun-creating sound, + And, though a pyramid, will bound. + + 'Monadnoc is a mountain strong, + Tall and good my kind among; + But well I know, no mountain can, + Zion or Meru, measure with man. + For it is on zodiacs writ, + Adamant is soft to wit: + And when the greater comes again + With my secret in his brain, + I shall pass, as glides my shadow + Daily over hill and meadow. + + 'Through all time, in light, in gloom + Well I hear the approaching feet + On the flinty pathway beat + Of him that cometh, and shall come; + Of him who shall as lightly bear + My daily load of woods and streams, + As doth this round sky-cleaving boat + Which never strains its rocky beams; + Whose timbers, as they silent float, + Alps and Caucasus uprear, + And the long Alleghanies here, + And all town-sprinkled lands that be, + Sailing through stars with all their history. + + 'Every morn I lift my head, + See New England underspread, + South from Saint Lawrence to the Sound, + From Katskill east to the sea-bound. + Anchored fast for many an age, + I await the bard and sage, + Who, in large thoughts, like fair pearl-seed, + Shall string Monadnoc like a bead. + Comes that cheerful troubadour, + This mound shall throb his face before, + As when, with inward fires and pain, + It rose a bubble from the plain. + When he cometh, I shall shed, + From this wellspring in my head, + Fountain-drop of spicier worth + Than all vintage of the earth. + There's fruit upon my barren soil + Costlier far than wine or oil. + There's a berry blue and gold,— + Autumn-ripe, its juices hold + Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart, + Asia's rancor, Athens' art, + Slowsure Britain's secular might, + And the German's inward sight. + I will give my son to eat + Best of Pan's immortal meat, + Bread to eat, and juice to drain; + So the coinage of his brain + Shall not be forms of stars, but stars, + Nor pictures pale, but Jove and Mars, + He comes, but not of that race bred + Who daily climb my specular head. + Oft as morning wreathes my scarf, + Fled the last plumule of the Dark, + Pants up hither the spruce clerk + From South Cove and City Wharf. + I take him up my rugged sides, + Half-repentant, scant of breath,— + Bead-eyes my granite chaos show, + And my midsummer snow: + Open the daunting map beneath,— + All his county, sea and land, + Dwarfed to measure of his hand; + His day's ride is a furlong space, + His city-tops a glimmering haze. + I plant his eyes on the sky-hoop bounding; + "See there the grim gray rounding + Of the bullet of the earth + Whereon ye sail, + Tumbling steep + In the uncontinented deep." + He looks on that, and he turns pale. + 'T is even so, this treacherous kite, + Farm-furrowed, town-incrusted sphere, + Thoughtless of its anxious freight, + Plunges eyeless on forever; + And he, poor parasite, + Cooped in a ship he cannot steer,— + Who is the captain he knows not, + Port or pilot trows not,— + Risk or ruin he must share. + I scowl on him with my cloud, + With my north wind chill his blood; + I lame him, clattering down the rocks; + And to live he is in fear. + Then, at last, I let him down + Once more into his dapper town, + To chatter, frightened, to his clan + And forget me if he can.' + + As in the old poetic fame + The gods are blind and lame, + And the simular despite + Betrays the more abounding might, + So call not waste that barren cone + Above the floral zone, + Where forests starve: + It is pure use;— + What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind + Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse? + + Ages are thy days, + Thou grand affirmer of the present tense, + And type of permanence! + Firm ensign of the fatal Being, + Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief, + That will not bide the seeing! + + Hither we bring + Our insect miseries to thy rocks; + And the whole flight, with folded wing, + Vanish, and end their murmuring,— + Vanish beside these dedicated blocks, + Which who can tell what mason laid? + Spoils of a front none need restore, + Replacing frieze and architrave;— + Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave; + Still is the haughty pile erect + Of the old building Intellect. + + Complement of human kind, + Holding us at vantage still, + Our sumptuous indigence, + O barren mound, thy plenties fill! + We fool and prate; + Thou art silent and sedate. + To myriad kinds and times one sense + The constant mountain doth dispense; + Shedding on all its snows and leaves, + One joy it joys, one grief it grieves. + Thou seest, O watchman tall, + Our towns and races grow and fall, + And imagest the stable good + For which we all our lifetime grope, + In shifting form the formless mind, + And though the substance us elude, + We in thee the shadow find. + Thou, in our astronomy + An opaker star, + Seen haply from afar, + Above the horizon's hoop, + A moment, by the railway troop, + As o'er some bolder height they speed,— + By circumspect ambition, + By errant gain, + By feasters and the frivolous,— + Recallest us, + And makest sane. + Mute orator! well skilled to plead, + And send conviction without phrase, + Thou dost succor and remede + The shortness of our days, + And promise, on thy Founder's truth, + Long morrow to this mortal youth. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FABLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; + Bun replied, + 'You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere. + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING + + Though loath to grieve + The evil time's sole patriot, + I cannot leave + My honied thought + For the priest's cant, + Or statesman's rant. + + If I refuse + My study for their politique, + Which at the best is trick, + The angry Muse + Puts confusion in my brain. + + But who is he that prates + Of the culture of mankind, + Of better arts and life? + Go, blindworm, go, + Behold the famous States + Harrying Mexico + With rifle and with knife! + + Or who, with accent bolder, + Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer? + I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook! + And in thy valleys, Agiochook! + The jackals of the negro-holder. + + The God who made New Hampshire + Taunted the lofty land + With little men;— + Small bat and wren + House in the oak:— + If earth-fire cleave + The upheaved land, and bury the folk, + The southern crocodile would grieve. + Virtue palters; Right is hence; + Freedom praised, but hid; + Funeral eloquence + Rattles the coffin-lid. + + What boots thy zeal, + O glowing friend, + That would indignant rend + The northland from the south? + Wherefore? to what good end? + Boston Bay and Bunker Hill + Would serve things still;— + Things are of the snake. + + The horseman serves the horse, + The neatherd serves the neat, + The merchant serves the purse, + The eater serves his meat; + 'T is the day of the chattel, + Web to weave, and corn to grind; + Things are in the saddle, + And ride mankind. + + There are two laws discrete, + Not reconciled,— + Law for man, and law for thing; + The last builds town and fleet, + But it runs wild, + And doth the man unking. + + 'T is fit the forest fall, + The steep be graded, + The mountain tunnelled, + The sand shaded, + The orchard planted, + The glebe tilled, + The prairie granted, + The steamer built. + + Let man serve law for man; + Live for friendship, live for love, + For truth's and harmony's behoof; + The state may follow how it can, + As Olympus follows Jove. + + Yet do not I implore + The wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods, + Nor bid the unwilling senator + Ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes. + Every one to his chosen work;— + Foolish hands may mix and mar; + Wise and sure the issues are. + Round they roll till dark is light, + Sex to sex, and even to odd;— + The over-god + Who marries Right to Might, + Who peoples, unpeoples,— + He who exterminates + Races by stronger races, + Black by white faces,— + Knows to bring honey + Out of the lion; + Grafts gentlest scion + On pirate and Turk. + + The Cossack eats Poland, + Like stolen fruit; + Her last noble is ruined, + Her last poet mute: + Straight, into double band + The victors divide; + Half for freedom strike and stand;— + The astonished Muse finds thousands at her side. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ASTRAEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each the herald is who wrote + His rank, and quartered his own coat. + There is no king nor sovereign state + That can fix a hero's rate; + Each to all is venerable, + Cap-a-pie invulnerable, + Until he write, where all eyes rest, + Slave or master on his breast. + I saw men go up and down, + In the country and the town, + With this tablet on their neck, + 'Judgment and a judge we seek.' + Not to monarchs they repair, + Nor to learned jurist's chair; + But they hurry to their peers, + To their kinsfolk and their dears; + Louder than with speech they pray,— + 'What am I? companion, say.' + And the friend not hesitates + To assign just place and mates; + Answers not in word or letter, + Yet is understood the better; + Each to each a looking-glass, + Reflects his figure that doth pass. + Every wayfarer he meets + What himself declared repeats, + What himself confessed records, + Sentences him in his words; + The form is his own corporal form, + And his thought the penal worm. + Yet shine forever virgin minds, + Loved by stars and purest winds, + Which, o'er passion throned sedate, + Have not hazarded their state; + Disconcert the searching spy, + Rendering to a curious eye + The durance of a granite ledge. + To those who gaze from the sea's edge + It is there for benefit; + It is there for purging light; + There for purifying storms; + And its depths reflect all forms; + It cannot parley with the mean,— + Pure by impure is not seen. + For there's no sequestered grot, + Lone mountain tarn, or isle forgot, + But Justice, journeying in the sphere, + Daily stoops to harbor there. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ÉTIENNE DE LA BOÉCE + + I serve you not, if you I follow, + Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; + And bend my fancy to your leading, + All too nimble for my treading. + When the pilgrimage is done, + And we've the landscape overrun, + I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, + And your heart is unsupported. + Vainly valiant, you have missed + The manhood that should yours resist,— + Its complement; but if I could, + In severe or cordial mood, + Lead you rightly to my altar, + Where the wisest Muses falter, + And worship that world-warming spark + Which dazzles me in midnight dark, + Equalizing small and large, + While the soul it doth surcharge, + Till the poor is wealthy grown, + And the hermit never alone,— + The traveller and the road seem one + With the errand to be done,— + That were a man's and lover's part, + That were Freedom's whitest chart. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why should I keep holiday + When other men have none? + Why but because, when these are gay, + I sit and mourn alone? + + And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, + Should mine alone be dumb? + Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, + And now their hour is come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORBEARANCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? + At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? + Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? + And loved so well a high behavior, + In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, + Nobility more nobly to repay? + O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The prosperous and beautiful + To me seem not to wear + The yoke of conscience masterful, + Which galls me everywhere. + + I cannot shake off the god; + On my neck he makes his seat; + I look at my face in the glass,— + My eyes his eyeballs meet. + + Enchanters! Enchantresses! + Your gold makes you seem wise; + The morning mist within your grounds + More proudly rolls, more softly lies. + + Yet spake yon purple mountain, + Yet said yon ancient wood, + That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, + Leads all souls to the Good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORERUNNERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Long I followed happy guides, + I could never reach their sides; + Their step is forth, and, ere the day + Breaks up their leaguer, and away. + Keen my sense, my heart was young, + Right good-will my sinews strung, + But no speed of mine avails + To hunt upon their shining trails. + On and away, their hasting feet + Make the morning proud and sweet; + Flowers they strew,—I catch the scent; + Or tone of silver instrument + Leaves on the wind melodious trace; + Yet I could never see their face. + On eastern hills I see their smokes, + Mixed with mist by distant lochs. + I met many travellers + Who the road had surely kept; + They saw not my fine revellers,— + These had crossed them while they slept. + Some had heard their fair report, + In the country or the court. + Fleetest couriers alive + Never yet could once arrive, + As they went or they returned, + At the house where these sojourned. + Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, + Though they are not overtaken; + In sleep their jubilant troop is near,— + I tuneful voices overhear; + It may be in wood or waste,— + At unawares 't is come and past. + Their near camp my spirit knows + By signs gracious as rainbows. + I thenceforward and long after + Listen for their harp-like laughter, + And carry in my heart, for days, + Peace that hallows rudest ways. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SURSUM CORDA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Seek not the spirit, if it hide + Inexorable to thy zeal: + Trembler, do not whine and chide: + Art thou not also real? + Stoop not then to poor excuse; + Turn on the accuser roundly; say, + 'Here am I, here will I abide + Forever to myself soothfast; + Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' + Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, + For only it can absolutely deal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE TO BEAUTY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who gave thee, O Beauty, + The keys of this breast,— + Too credulous lover + Of blest and unblest? + Say, when in lapsed ages + Thee knew I of old? + Or what was the service + For which I was sold? + When first my eyes saw thee, + I found me thy thrall, + By magical drawings, + Sweet tyrant of all! + I drank at thy fountain + False waters of thirst; + Thou intimate stranger, + Thou latest and first! + Thy dangerous glances + Make women of men; + New-born, we are melting + Into nature again. + + Lavish, lavish promiser, + Nigh persuading gods to err! + Guest of million painted forms, + Which in turn thy glory warms! + The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, + The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, + The swinging spider's silver line, + The ruby of the drop of wine, + The shining pebble of the pond, + Thou inscribest with a bond, + In thy momentary play, + Would bankrupt nature to repay. + + Ah, what avails it + To hide or to shun + Whom the Infinite One + Hath granted his throne? + The heaven high over + Is the deep's lover; + The sun and sea, + Informed by thee, + Before me run + And draw me on, + Yet fly me still, + As Fate refuses + To me the heart Fate for me chooses. + Is it that my opulent soul + Was mingled from the generous whole; + Sea-valleys and the deep of skies + Furnished several supplies; + And the sands whereof I'm made + Draw me to them, self-betrayed? + + I turn the proud portfolio + Which holds the grand designs + Of Salvator, of Guercino, + And Piranesi's lines. + I hear the lofty paeans + Of the masters of the shell, + Who heard the starry music + And recount the numbers well; + Olympian bards who sung + Divine Ideas below, + Which always find us young + And always keep us so. + Oft, in streets or humblest places, + I detect far-wandered graces, + Which, from Eden wide astray, + In lowly homes have lost their way. + + Thee gliding through the sea of form, + Like the lightning through the storm, + Somewhat not to be possessed, + Somewhat not to be caressed, + No feet so fleet could ever find, + No perfect form could ever bind. + Thou eternal fugitive, + Hovering over all that live, + Quick and skilful to inspire + Sweet, extravagant desire, + Starry space and lily-bell + Filling with thy roseate smell, + Wilt not give the lips to taste + Of the nectar which thou hast. + + All that's good and great with thee + Works in close conspiracy; + Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely + To report thy features only, + And the cold and purple morning + Itself with thoughts of thee adorning; + The leafy dell, the city mart, + Equal trophies of thine art; + E'en the flowing azure air + Thou hast touched for my despair; + And, if I languish into dreams, + Again I meet the ardent beams. + Queen of things! I dare not die + In Being's deeps past ear and eye; + Lest there I find the same deceiver + And be the sport of Fate forever. + Dread Power, but dear! if God thou be, + Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIVE ALL TO LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give all to love; + Obey thy heart; + Friends, kindred, days, + Estate, good-fame, + Plans, credit and the Muse,— + Nothing refuse. + + 'T is a brave master; + Let it have scope: + Follow it utterly, + Hope beyond hope: + High and more high + It dives into noon, + With wing unspent, + Untold intent; + But it is a god, + Knows its own path + And the outlets of the sky. + + It was never for the mean; + It requireth courage stout. + Souls above doubt, + Valor unbending, + It will reward,— + They shall return + More than they were, + And ever ascending. + + Leave all for love; + Yet, hear me, yet, + One word more thy heart behoved, + One pulse more of firm endeavor,— + Keep thee to-day, + To-morrow, forever, + Free as an Arab + Of thy beloved. + + Cling with life to the maid; + But when the surprise, + First vague shadow of surmise + Flits across her bosom young, + Of a joy apart from thee, + Free be she, fancy-free; + Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, + Nor the palest rose she flung + From her summer diadem. + + Though thou loved her as thyself, + As a self of purer clay, + Though her parting dims the day, + Stealing grace from all alive; + Heartily know, + When half-gods go. + The gods arrive. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The green grass is bowing, + The morning wind is in it; + 'T is a tune worth thy knowing, + Though it change every minute. + + 'T is a tune of the Spring; + Every year plays it over + To the robin on the wing, + And to the pausing lover. + + O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, + Goes light the nimble zephyr; + The Flowers—tiny sect of Shakers— + Worship him ever. + + Hark to the winning sound! + They summon thee, dearest,— + Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, + Nor yet thou appearest. + + 'O hasten;' 't is our time, + Ere yet the red Summer + Scorch our delicate prime, + Loved of bee,—the tawny hummer. + + 'O pride of thy race! + Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, + If our brief tribe miss thy face, + We poor New England flowers. + + 'Fairest, choose the fairest members + Of our lithe society; + June's glories and September's + Show our love and piety. + + 'Thou shalt command us all,— + April's cowslip, summer's clover, + To the gentian in the fall, + Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. + + 'O come, then, quickly come! + We are budding, we are blowing; + And the wind that we perfume + Sings a tune that's worth the knowing.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO ELLEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And Ellen, when the graybeard years + Have brought us to life's evening hour, + And all the crowded Past appears + A tiny scene of sun and shower, + + Then, if I read the page aright + Where Hope, the soothsayer, reads our lot, + Thyself shalt own the page was bright, + Well that we loved, woe had we not, + + When Mirth is dumb and Flattery's fled, + And mute thy music's dearest tone, + When all but Love itself is dead + And all but deathless Reason gone. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO EVA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O fair and stately maid, whose eyes + Were kindled in the upper skies + At the same torch that lighted mine; + For so I must interpret still + Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, + A sympathy divine. + + Ah! let me blameless gaze upon + Features that seem at heart my own; + Nor fear those watchful sentinels, + Who charm the more their glance forbids, + Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, + With fire that draws while it repels. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LINES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WRITTEN BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER SHORTLY BEFORE + HER MARRIAGE TO MR. EMERSON + + Love scatters oil + On Life's dark sea, + Sweetens its toil— + Our helmsman he. + + Around him hover + Odorous clouds; + Under this cover + His arrows he shrouds. + + The cloud was around me, + I knew not why + Such sweetness crowned me. + While Time shot by. + + No pain was within, + But calm delight, + Like a world without sin, + Or a day without night. + + The shafts of the god + Were tipped with down, + For they drew no blood, + And they knit no frown. + + I knew of them not + Until Cupid laughed loud, + And saying "You're caught!" + Flew off in the cloud. + + O then I awoke, + And I lived but to sigh, + Till a clear voice spoke,— + And my tears are dry. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VIOLET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER + + Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; + Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; + Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, + Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? + + Why wilt thou live when none around reflects thy pensive ray? + Thou bloomest here a lonely thing in the clear autumn day. + The tall green trees, that shelter thee, their last gay dress put on; + There will be nought to shelter thee when their sweet leaves are gone. + + O Violet, like thee, how blest could I lie down and die, + When summer light is fading, and autumn breezes sigh; + When Winter reigned I'd close my eye, but wake with bursting Spring, + And live with living nature, a pure rejoicing thing. + + I had a sister once who seemed just like a violet; + Her morning sun shone bright and calmly purely set; + When the violets were in their shrouds, and Summer in its pride, + She laid her hopes at rest, and in the year's rich beauty died. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMULET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; + Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings <i>since</i> it came. + + Give me an amulet + That keeps intelligence with you,— + Red when you love, and rosier red, + And when you love not, pale and blue. + + Alas! that neither bonds nor vows + Can certify possession; + Torments me still the fear that love + Died in its last expression. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THINE EYES STILL SHINED + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + I lonely roved the land or sea: + As I behold yon evening star, + Which yet beholds not me. + + This morn I climbed the misty hill + And roamed the pastures through; + How danced thy form before my path + Amidst the deep-eyed dew! + + When the redbird spread his sable wing, + And showed his side of flame; + When the rosebud ripened to the rose, + In both I read thy name. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EROS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sense of the world is short,— + Long and various the report,— + To love and be beloved; + Men and gods have not outlearned it; + And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, + Not to be improved. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HERMIONE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On a mound an Arab lay, + And sung his sweet regrets + And told his amulets: + The summer bird + His sorrow heard, + And, when he heaved a sigh profound, + The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. + + 'If it be, as they said, she was not fair, + Beauty's not beautiful to me, + But sceptred genius, aye inorbed, + Culminating in her sphere. + This Hermione absorbed + The lustre of the land and ocean, + Hills and islands, cloud and tree, + In her form and motion. + + 'I ask no bauble miniature, + Nor ringlets dead + Shorn from her comely head, + Now that morning not disdains + Mountains and the misty plains + Her colossal portraiture; + They her heralds be, + Steeped in her quality, + And singers of her fame + Who is their Muse and dame. + + 'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say. + Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, + Say, was it just, + In thee to frame, in me to trust, + Thou to the Syrian couldst belong? + + 'I am of a lineage + That each for each doth fast engage; + In old Bassora's schools, I seemed + Hermit vowed to books and gloom,— + Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom. + I was by thy touch redeemed; + When thy meteor glances came, + We talked at large of worldly fate, + And drew truly every trait. + + 'Once I dwelt apart, + Now I live with all; + As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side + Seems, by the traveller espied, + A door into the mountain heart, + So didst thou quarry and unlock + Highways for me through the rock. + + 'Now, deceived, thou wanderest + In strange lands unblest; + And my kindred come to soothe me. + Southwind is my next of blood; + He is come through fragrant wood, + Drugged with spice from climates warm, + And in every twinkling glade, + And twilight nook, + Unveils thy form. + Out of the forest way + Forth paced it yesterday; + And when I sat by the watercourse, + Watching the daylight fade, + It throbbed up from the brook. + + 'River and rose and crag and bird, + Frost and sun and eldest night, + To me their aid preferred, + To me their comfort plight;— + "Courage! we are thine allies, + And with this hint be wise,— + The chains of kind + The distant bind; + Deed thou doest she must do, + Above her will, be true; + And, in her strict resort + To winds and waterfalls + And autumn's sunlit festivals, + To music, and to music's thought, + Inextricably bound, + She shall find thee, and be found. + Follow not her flying feet; + Come to us herself to meet."' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + + Venus, when her son was lost, + Cried him up and down the coast, + In hamlets, palaces and parks, + And told the truant by his marks,— + Golden curls, and quiver and bow. + This befell how long ago! + Time and tide are strangely changed, + Men and manners much deranged: + None will now find Cupid latent + By this foolish antique patent. + He came late along the waste, + Shod like a traveller for haste; + With malice dared me to proclaim him, + That the maids and boys might name him. + + Boy no more, he wears all coats, + Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; + He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, + Nor chaplet on his head or hand. + Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,— + All the rest he can disguise. + In the pit of his eye's a spark + Would bring back day if it were dark; + And, if I tell you all my thought, + Though I comprehend it not, + In those unfathomable orbs + Every function he absorbs; + Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, + And write, and reason, and compute, + And ride, and run, and have, and hold, + And whine, and flatter, and regret, + And kiss, and couple, and beget, + By those roving eyeballs bold. + + Undaunted are their courages, + Right Cossacks in their forages; + Fleeter they than any creature,— + They are his steeds, and not his feature; + Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, + Restless, predatory, hasting; + And they pounce on other eyes + As lions on their prey; + And round their circles is writ, + Plainer than the day, + Underneath, within, above,— + Love—love—love—love. + He lives in his eyes; + There doth digest, and work, and spin, + And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; + He rolls them with delighted motion, + Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean. + Yet holds he them with tautest rein, + That they may seize and entertain + The glance that to their glance opposes, + Like fiery honey sucked from roses. + He palmistry can understand, + Imbibing virtue by his hand + As if it were a living root; + The pulse of hands will make him mute; + With all his force he gathers balms + Into those wise, thrilling palms. + + Cupid is a casuist, + A mystic and a cabalist,— + Can your lurking thought surprise, + And interpret your device. + He is versed in occult science, + In magic and in clairvoyance, + Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, + And Reason on her tiptoe pained + For aëry intelligence, + And for strange coincidence. + But it touches his quick heart + When Fate by omens takes his part, + And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere + Deeply soothe his anxious ear. + + Heralds high before him run; + He has ushers many a one; + He spreads his welcome where he goes, + And touches all things with his rose. + All things wait for and divine him,— + How shall I dare to malign him, + Or accuse the god of sport? + I must end my true report, + Painting him from head to foot, + In as far as I took note, + Trusting well the matchless power + Of this young-eyed emperor + Will clear his fame from every cloud + With the bards and with the crowd. + + He is wilful, mutable, + Shy, untamed, inscrutable, + Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. + Substance mixed of pure contraries; + His vice some elder virtue's token, + And his good is evil-spoken. + Failing sometimes of his own, + He is headstrong and alone; + He affects the wood and wild, + Like a flower-hunting child; + Buries himself in summer waves, + In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, + Loves nature like a hornèd cow, + Bird, or deer, or caribou. + + Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses! + He has a total world of wit; + O how wise are his discourses! + But he is the arch-hypocrite, + And, through all science and all art, + Seeks alone his counterpart. + He is a Pundit of the East, + He is an augur and a priest, + And his soul will melt in prayer, + But word and wisdom is a snare; + Corrupted by the present toy + He follows joy, and only joy. + There is no mask but he will wear; + He invented oaths to swear; + He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, + And holds all stars in his embrace. + He takes a sovran privilege + Not allowed to any liege; + For Cupid goes behind all law, + And right into himself does draw; + For he is sovereignly allied,— + Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,— + And interchangeably at one + With every king on every throne, + That no god dare say him nay, + Or see the fault, or seen betray; + He has the Muses by the heart, + And the stern Parcae on his part. + + His many signs cannot be told; + He has not one mode, but manifold, + Many fashions and addresses, + Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses. + He will preach like a friar, + And jump like Harlequin; + He will read like a crier, + And fight like a Paladin. + Boundless is his memory; + Plans immense his term prolong; + He is not of counted age, + Meaning always to be young. + And his wish is intimacy, + Intimater intimacy, + And a stricter privacy; + The impossible shall yet be done, + And, being two, shall still be one. + As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, + Then runs into a wave again, + So lovers melt their sundered selves, + Yet melted would be twain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Man was made of social earth, + Child and brother from his birth, + Tethered by a liquid cord + Of blood through veins of kindred poured. + Next his heart the fireside band + Of mother, father, sister, stand; + Names from awful childhood heard + Throbs of a wild religion stirred;— + Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; + Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, + Till Beauty came to snap all ties; + The maid, abolishing the past, + With lotus wine obliterates + Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, + And, by herself, supplants alone + Friends year by year more inly known. + When her calm eyes opened bright, + All else grew foreign in their light. + It was ever the self-same tale, + The first experience will not fail; + Only two in the garden walked, + And with snake and seraph talked. + + Close, close to men, + Like undulating layer of air, + Right above their heads, + The potent plain of Daemons spreads. + Stands to each human soul its own, + For watch and ward and furtherance, + In the snares of Nature's dance; + And the lustre and the grace + To fascinate each youthful heart, + Beaming from its counterpart, + Translucent through the mortal covers, + Is the Daemon's form and face. + To and fro the Genius hies,— + A gleam which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head, + And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. + Unknown, albeit lying near, + To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; + And they that swiftly come and go + Leave no track on the heavenly snow. + Sometimes the airy synod bends, + And the mighty choir descends, + And the brains of men thenceforth, + In crowded and in still resorts, + Teem with unwonted thoughts: + As, when a shower of meteors + Cross the orbit of the earth, + And, lit by fringent air, + Blaze near and far, + Mortals deem the planets bright + Have slipped their sacred bars, + And the lone seaman all the night + Sails, astonished, amid stars. + + Beauty of a richer vein, + Graces of a subtler strain, + Unto men these moonmen lend, + And our shrinking sky extend. + So is man's narrow path + By strength and terror skirted; + Also (from the song the wrath + Of the Genii be averted! + The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) + The Daemons are self-seeking: + Their fierce and limitary will + Draws men to their likeness still. + The erring painter made Love blind,— + Highest Love who shines on all; + Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted god, + None can bewilder; + Whose eyes pierce + The universe, + Path-finder, road-builder, + Mediator, royal giver; + Rightly seeing, rightly seen, + Of joyful and transparent mien. + 'T is a sparkle passing + From each to each, from thee to me, + To and fro perpetually; + Sharing all, daring all, + Levelling, displacing + Each obstruction, it unites + Equals remote, and seeming opposites. + And ever and forever Love + Delights to build a road: + Unheeded Danger near him strides, + Love laughs, and on a lion rides. + But Cupid wears another face, + Born into Daemons less divine: + His roses bleach apace, + His nectar smacks of wine. + The Daemon ever builds a wall, + Himself encloses and includes, + Solitude in solitudes: + In like sort his love doth fall. + He doth elect + The beautiful and fortunate, + And the sons of intellect, + And the souls of ample fate, + Who the Future's gates unbar,— + Minions of the Morning Star. + In his prowess he exults, + And the multitude insults. + His impatient looks devour + Oft the humble and the poor; + And, seeing his eye glare, + They drop their few pale flowers, + Gathered with hope to please, + Along the mountain towers,— + Lose courage, and despair. + He will never be gainsaid,— + Pitiless, will not be stayed; + His hot tyranny + Burns up every other tie. + Therefore comes an hour from Jove + Which his ruthless will defies, + And the dogs of Fate unties. + Shiver the palaces of glass; + Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, + Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt + Secure as in the zodiac's belt; + And the galleries and halls, + Wherein every siren sung, + Like a meteor pass. + For this fortune wanted root + In the core of God's abysm,— + Was a weed of self and schism; + And ever the Daemonic Love + Is the ancestor of wars + And the parent of remorse. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But God said, + 'I will have a purer gift; + There is smoke in the flame; + New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, + And love without a name. + Fond children, ye desire + To please each other well; + Another round, a higher, + Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, + And selfish preference forbear; + And in right deserving, + And without a swerving + Each from your proper state, + Weave roses for your mate. + + 'Deep, deep are loving eyes, + Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet; + And the point is paradise, + Where their glances meet: + Their reach shall yet be more profound, + And a vision without bound: + The axis of those eyes sun-clear + Be the axis of the sphere: + So shall the lights ye pour amain + Go, without check or intervals, + Through from the empyrean walls + Unto the same again.' + + Higher far into the pure realm, + Over sun and star, + Over the flickering Daemon film, + Thou must mount for love; + Into vision where all form + In one only form dissolves; + In a region where the wheel + On which all beings ride + Visibly revolves; + Where the starred, eternal worm + Girds the world with bound and term; + Where unlike things are like; + Where good and ill, + And joy and moan, + Melt into one. + + There Past, Present, Future, shoot + Triple blossoms from one root; + Substances at base divided, + In their summits are united; + There the holy essence rolls, + One through separated souls; + And the sunny Aeon sleeps + Folding Nature in its deeps, + And every fair and every good, + Known in part, or known impure, + To men below, + In their archetypes endure. + The race of gods, + Or those we erring own, + Are shadows flitting up and down + In the still abodes. + The circles of that sea are laws + Which publish and which hide the cause. + + Pray for a beam + Out of that sphere, + Thee to guide and to redeem. + O, what a load + Of care and toil, + By lying use bestowed, + From his shoulders falls who sees + The true astronomy, + The period of peace. + Counsel which the ages kept + Shall the well-born soul accept. + As the overhanging trees + Fill the lake with images,— + As garment draws the garment's hem, + Men their fortunes bring with them. + By right or wrong, + Lands and goods go to the strong. + Property will brutely draw + Still to the proprietor; + Silver to silver creep and wind, + And kind to kind. + + Nor less the eternal poles + Of tendency distribute souls. + There need no vows to bind + Whom not each other seek, but find. + They give and take no pledge or oath,— + Nature is the bond of both: + No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,— + Their noble meanings are their pawns. + Plain and cold is their address, + Power have they for tenderness; + And, so thoroughly is known + Each other's counsel by his own, + They can parley without meeting; + Need is none of forms of greeting; + They can well communicate + In their innermost estate; + When each the other shall avoid, + Shall each by each be most enjoyed. + + Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves + Do these celebrate their loves: + Not by jewels, feasts and savors, + Not by ribbons or by favors, + But by the sun-spark on the sea, + And the cloud-shadow on the lea, + The soothing lapse of morn to mirk, + And the cheerful round of work. + Their cords of love so public are, + They intertwine the farthest star: + The throbbing sea, the quaking earth, + Yield sympathy and signs of mirth; + Is none so high, so mean is none, + But feels and seals this union; + Even the fell Furies are appeased, + The good applaud, the lost are eased. + + Love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, + Bound for the just, but not beyond; + Not glad, as the low-loving herd, + Of self in other still preferred, + But they have heartily designed + The benefit of broad mankind. + And they serve men austerely, + After their own genius, clearly, + Without a false humility; + For this is Love's nobility,— + Not to scatter bread and gold, + Goods and raiment bought and sold; + But to hold fast his simple sense, + And speak the speech of innocence, + And with hand and body and blood, + To make his bosom-counsel good. + He that feeds men serveth few; + He serves all who dares be true. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE APOLOGY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Think me not unkind and rude + That I walk alone in grove and glen; + I go to the god of the wood + To fetch his word to men. + + Tax not my sloth that I + Fold my arms beside the brook; + Each cloud that floated in the sky + Writes a letter in my book. + + Chide me not, laborious band, + For the idle flowers I brought; + Every aster in my hand + Goes home loaded with a thought. + + There was never mystery + But 'tis figured in the flowers; + Was never secret history + But birds tell it in the bowers. + + One harvest from thy field + Homeward brought the oxen strong; + A second crop thine acres yield, + Which I gather in a song. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy trivial harp will never please + Or fill my craving ear; + Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, + Free, peremptory, clear. + No jingling serenader's art, + Nor tinkle of piano strings, + Can make the wild blood start + In its mystic springs. + The kingly bard + Must smite the chords rudely and hard, + As with hammer or with mace; + That they may render back + Artful thunder, which conveys + Secrets of the solar track, + Sparks of the supersolar blaze. + Merlin's blows are strokes of fate, + Chiming with the forest tone, + When boughs buffet boughs in the wood; + Chiming with the gasp and moan + Of the ice-imprisoned flood; + With the pulse of manly hearts; + With the voice of orators; + With the din of city arts; + With the cannonade of wars; + With the marches of the brave; + And prayers of might from martyrs' cave. + + Great is the art, + Great be the manners, of the bard. + He shall not his brain encumber + With the coil of rhythm and number; + But, leaving rule and pale forethought, + He shall aye climb + For his rhyme. + 'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, + 'In to the upper doors, + Nor count compartments of the floors, + But mount to paradise + By the stairway of surprise.' + + Blameless master of the games, + King of sport that never shames, + He shall daily joy dispense + Hid in song's sweet influence. + Forms more cheerly live and go, + What time the subtle mind + Sings aloud the tune whereto + Their pulses beat, + And march their feet, + And their members are combined. + + By Sybarites beguiled, + He shall no task decline; + Merlin's mighty line + Extremes of nature reconciled,— + Bereaved a tyrant of his will, + And made the lion mild. + Songs can the tempest still, + Scattered on the stormy air, + Mould the year to fair increase, + And bring in poetic peace. + + He shall not seek to weave, + In weak, unhappy times, + Efficacious rhymes; + Wait his returning strength. + Bird that from the nadir's floor + To the zenith's top can soar,— + The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length. + Nor profane affect to hit + Or compass that, by meddling wit, + Which only the propitious mind + Publishes when 't is inclined. + There are open hours + When the God's will sallies free, + And the dull idiot might see + The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;— + Sudden, at unawares, + Self-moved, fly-to the doors. + Nor sword of angels could reveal + What they conceal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The rhyme of the poet + Modulates the king's affairs; + Balance-loving Nature + Made all things in pairs. + To every foot its antipode; + Each color with its counter glowed; + To every tone beat answering tones, + Higher or graver; + Flavor gladly blends with flavor; + Leaf answers leaf upon the bough; + And match the paired cotyledons. + Hands to hands, and feet to feet, + In one body grooms and brides; + Eldest rite, two married sides + In every mortal meet. + Light's far furnace shines, + Smelting balls and bars, + Forging double stars, + Glittering twins and trines. + The animals are sick with love, + Lovesick with rhyme; + Each with all propitious Time + Into chorus wove. + + Like the dancers' ordered band, + Thoughts come also hand in hand; + In equal couples mated, + Or else alternated; + Adding by their mutual gage, + One to other, health and age. + Solitary fancies go + Short-lived wandering to and fro, + Most like to bachelors, + Or an ungiven maid, + Not ancestors, + With no posterity to make the lie afraid, + Or keep truth undecayed. + Perfect-paired as eagle's wings, + Justice is the rhyme of things; + Trade and counting use + The self-same tuneful muse; + And Nemesis, + Who with even matches odd, + Who athwart space redresses + The partial wrong, + Fills the just period, + And finishes the song. + + Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife, + Murmur in the house of life, + Sung by the Sisters as they spin; + In perfect time and measure they + Build and unbuild our echoing clay. + As the two twilights of the day + Fold us music-drunken in. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BACCHUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bring me wine, but wine which never grew + In the belly of the grape, + Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through, + Under the Andes to the Cape, + Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. + + Let its grapes the morn salute + From a nocturnal root, + Which feels the acrid juice + Of Styx and Erebus; + And turns the woe of Night, + By its own craft, to a more rich delight. + + We buy ashes for bread; + We buy diluted wine; + Give me of the true,— + Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled + Among the silver hills of heaven + Draw everlasting dew; + Wine of wine, + Blood of the world, + Form of forms, and mould of statures, + That I intoxicated, + And by the draught assimilated, + May float at pleasure through all natures; + The bird-language rightly spell, + And that which roses say so well. + + Wine that is shed + Like the torrents of the sun + Up the horizon walls, + Or like the Atlantic streams, which run + When the South Sea calls. + + Water and bread, + Food which needs no transmuting, + Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, + Wine which is already man, + Food which teach and reason can. + + Wine which Music is,— + Music and wine are one,— + That I, drinking this, + Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; + Kings unborn shall walk with me; + And the poor grass shall plot and plan + What it will do when it is man. + Quickened so, will I unlock + Every crypt of every rock. + + I thank the joyful juice + For all I know;— + Winds of remembering + Of the ancient being blow, + And seeming-solid walls of use + Open and flow. + + Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; + Retrieve the loss of me and mine! + Vine for vine be antidote, + And the grape requite the lote! + Haste to cure the old despair,— + Reason in Nature's lotus drenched, + The memory of ages quenched; + Give them again to shine; + Let wine repair what this undid; + And where the infection slid, + A dazzling memory revive; + Refresh the faded tints, + Recut the aged prints, + And write my old adventures with the pen + Which on the first day drew, + Upon the tablets blue, + The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEROPS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What care I, so they stand the same,— + Things of the heavenly mind,— + How long the power to give them name + Tarries yet behind? + + Thus far to-day your favors reach, + O fair, appeasing presences! + Ye taught my lips a single speech, + And a thousand silences. + + Space grants beyond his fated road + No inch to the god of day; + And copious language still bestowed + One word, no more, to say. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HOUSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is no architect + Can build as the Muse can; + She is skilful to select + Materials for her plan; + + Slow and warily to choose + Rafters of immortal pine, + Or cedar incorruptible, + Worthy her design, + + She threads dark Alpine forests + Or valleys by the sea, + In many lands, with painful steps, + Ere she can find a tree. + + She ransacks mines and ledges + And quarries every rock, + To hew the famous adamant + For each eternal block— + + She lays her beams in music, + In music every one, + To the cadence of the whirling world + Which dances round the sun— + + That so they shall not be displaced + By lapses or by wars, + But for the love of happy souls + Outlive the newest stars. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SAADI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Trees in groves, + Kine in droves, + In ocean sport the scaly herds, + Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, + To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, + Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, + Men consort in camp and town, + But the poet dwells alone. + + God, who gave to him the lyre, + Of all mortals the desire, + For all breathing men's behoof, + Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;' + Annexed a warning, poets say, + To the bright premium,— + Ever, when twain together play, + Shall the harp be dumb. + + Many may come, + But one shall sing; + Two touch the string, + The harp is dumb. + Though there come a million, + Wise Saadi dwells alone. + + Yet Saadi loved the race of men,— + No churl, immured in cave or den; + In bower and hall + He wants them all, + Nor can dispense + With Persia for his audience; + They must give ear, + Grow red with joy and white with fear; + But he has no companion; + Come ten, or come a million, + Good Saadi dwells alone. + + Be thou ware where Saadi dwells; + Wisdom of the gods is he,— + Entertain it reverently. + Gladly round that golden lamp + Sylvan deities encamp, + And simple maids and noble youth + Are welcome to the man of truth. + Most welcome they who need him most, + They feed the spring which they exhaust; + For greater need + Draws better deed: + But, critic, spare thy vanity, + Nor show thy pompous parts, + To vex with odious subtlety + The cheerer of men's hearts. + + Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say + Endless dirges to decay, + Never in the blaze of light + Lose the shudder of midnight; + Pale at overflowing noon + Hear wolves barking at the moon; + In the bower of dalliance sweet + Hear the far Avenger's feet: + And shake before those awful Powers, + Who in their pride forgive not ours. + Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach: + 'Bard, when thee would Allah teach, + And lift thee to his holy mount, + He sends thee from his bitter fount + Wormwood,—saying, "Go thy ways; + Drink not the Malaga of praise, + But do the deed thy fellows hate, + And compromise thy peaceful state; + Smite the white breasts which thee fed. + Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head + Of them thou shouldst have comforted; + For out of woe and out of crime + Draws the heart a lore sublime."' + And yet it seemeth not to me + That the high gods love tragedy; + For Saadi sat in the sun, + And thanks was his contrition; + For haircloth and for bloody whips, + Had active hands and smiling lips; + And yet his runes he rightly read, + And to his folk his message sped. + Sunshine in his heart transferred + Lighted each transparent word, + And well could honoring Persia learn + What Saadi wished to say; + For Saadi's nightly stars did burn + Brighter than Jami's day. + + Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot: + 'O gentle Saadi, listen not, + Tempted by thy praise of wit, + Or by thirst and appetite + For the talents not thine own, + To sons of contradiction. + Never, son of eastern morning, + Follow falsehood, follow scorning. + Denounce who will, who will deny, + And pile the hills to scale the sky; + Let theist, atheist, pantheist, + Define and wrangle how they list, + Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,— + But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer, + Unknowing war, unknowing crime, + Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme; + Heed not what the brawlers say, + Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + + 'Let the great world bustle on + With war and trade, with camp and town; + A thousand men shall dig and eat; + At forge and furnace thousands sweat; + And thousands sail the purple sea, + And give or take the stroke of war, + Or crowd the market and bazaar; + Oft shall war end, and peace return, + And cities rise where cities burn, + Ere one man my hill shall climb, + Who can turn the golden rhyme. + Let them manage how they may, + Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + Seek the living among the dead,— + Man in man is imprisonèd; + Barefooted Dervish is not poor, + If fate unlock his bosom's door, + So that what his eye hath seen + His tongue can paint as bright, as keen; + And what his tender heart hath felt + With equal fire thy heart shalt melt. + For, whom the Muses smile upon, + And touch with soft persuasion, + His words like a storm-wind can bring + Terror and beauty on their wing; + In his every syllable + Lurketh Nature veritable; + And though he speak in midnight dark,— + In heaven no star, on earth no spark,— + Yet before the listener's eye + Swims the world in ecstasy, + The forest waves, the morning breaks, + The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes, + Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be, + And life pulsates in rock or tree. + Saadi, so far thy words shall reach: + Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!' + + And thus to Saadi said the Muse: + 'Eat thou the bread which men refuse; + Flee from the goods which from thee flee; + Seek nothing,—Fortune seeketh thee. + Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep + The midway of the eternal deep. + Wish not to fill the isles with eyes + To fetch thee birds of paradise: + On thine orchard's edge belong + All the brags of plume and song; + Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass + For proverbs in the market-place: + Through mountains bored by regal art, + Toil whistles as he drives his cart. + Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind, + A poet or a friend to find: + Behold, he watches at the door! + Behold his shadow on the floor! + Open innumerable doors + The heaven where unveiled Allah pours + The flood of truth, the flood of good, + The Seraph's and the Cherub's food. + Those doors are men: the Pariah hind + Admits thee to the perfect Mind. + Seek not beyond thy cottage wall + Redeemers that can yield thee all: + While thou sittest at thy door + On the desert's yellow floor, + Listening to the gray-haired crones, + Foolish gossips, ancient drones, + Saadi, see! they rise in stature + To the height of mighty Nature, + And the secret stands revealed + Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,— + That blessed gods in servile masks + Plied for thee thy household tasks.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOLIDAYS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From fall to spring, the russet acorn, + Fruit beloved of maid and boy, + Lent itself beneath the forest, + To be the children's toy. + + Pluck it now! In vain,—thou canst not; + Its root has pierced yon shady mound; + Toy no longer—it has duties; + It is anchored in the ground. + + Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, + Playfellow of young and old, + Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, + More dear to one than mines of gold. + + Whither went the lovely hoyden? + Disappeared in blessed wife; + Servant to a wooden cradle, + Living in a baby's life. + + Still thou playest;—short vacation + Fate grants each to stand aside; + Now must thou be man and artist,— + 'T is the turning of the tide. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XENOPHANES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave + One scent to hyson and to wall-flower, + One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls, + One aspect to the desert and the lake. + It was her stern necessity: all things + Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower, + Song, picture, form, space, thought and character + Deceive us, seeming to be many things, + And are but one. Beheld far off, they part + As God and devil; bring them to the mind, + They dull its edge with their monotony. + To know one element, explore another, + And in the second reappears the first. + The specious panorama of a year + But multiplies the image of a day,— + A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame; + And universal Nature, through her vast + And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, + Repeats one note. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DAY'S RATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I was born, + From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, + Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice, + Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw + From my great arteries,—nor less, nor more.' + All substances the cunning chemist Time + Melts down into that liquor of my life,— + Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust. + And whether I am angry or content, + Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt, + All he distils into sidereal wine + And brims my little cup; heedless, alas! + Of all he sheds how little it will hold, + How much runs over on the desert sands. + If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray, + And I uplift myself into its heaven, + The needs of the first sight absorb my blood, + And all the following hours of the day + Drag a ridiculous age. + To-day, when friends approach, and every hour + Brings book, or starbright scroll of genius, + The little cup will hold not a bead more, + And all the costly liquor runs to waste; + Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond drop + So to be husbanded for poorer days. + Why need I volumes, if one word suffice? + Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught + After the master's sketch fills and o'erfills + My apprehension? Why seek Italy, + Who cannot circumnavigate the sea + Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn + The nearest matters for a thousand days? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BLIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give me truths; + For I am weary of the surfaces, + And die of inanition. If I knew + Only the herbs and simples of the wood, + Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, + Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, + Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew, + And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods + Draw untold juices from the common earth, + Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell + Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply + By sweet affinities to human flesh, + Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,— + O, that were much, and I could be a part + Of the round day, related to the sun + And planted world, and full executor + Of their imperfect functions. + But these young scholars, who invade our hills, + Bold as the engineer who fells the wood, + And travelling often in the cut he makes, + Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, + And all their botany is Latin names. + The old men studied magic in the flowers, + And human fortunes in astronomy, + And an omnipotence in chemistry, + Preferring things to names, for these were men, + Were unitarians of the united world, + And, wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell, + They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes + Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, + And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, + And strangers to the plant and to the mine. + The injured elements say, 'Not in us;' + And night and day, ocean and continent, + Fire, plant and mineral say, 'Not in us;' + And haughtily return us stare for stare. + For we invade them impiously for gain; + We devastate them unreligiously, + And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. + Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us + Only what to our griping toil is due; + But the sweet affluence of love and song, + The rich results of the divine consents + Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover, + The nectar and ambrosia, are withheld; + And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves + And pirates of the universe, shut out + Daily to a more thin and outward rind, + Turn pale and starve. Therefore, to our sick eyes, + The stunted trees look sick, the summer short, + Clouds shade the sun, which will not tan our hay, + And nothing thrives to reach its natural term; + And life, shorn of its venerable length, + Even at its greatest space is a defeat, + And dies in anger that it was a dupe; + And, in its highest noon and wantonness, + Is early frugal, like a beggar's child; + Even in the hot pursuit of the best aims + And prizes of ambition, checks its hand, + Like Alpine cataracts frozen as they leaped, + Chilled with a miserly comparison + Of the toy's purchase with the length of life. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MUSKETAQUID + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Because I was content with these poor fields, + Low, open meads, slender and sluggish streams, + And found a home in haunts which others scorned, + The partial wood-gods overpaid my love, + And granted me the freedom of their state, + And in their secret senate have prevailed + With the dear, dangerous lords that rule our life, + Made moon and planets parties to their bond, + And through my rock-like, solitary wont + Shot million rays of thought and tenderness. + For me, in showers, in sweeping showers, the Spring + Visits the valley;—break away the clouds,— + I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air, + And loiter willing by yon loitering stream. + Sparrows far off, and nearer, April's bird, + Blue-coated,—flying before from tree to tree, + Courageous sing a delicate overture + To lead the tardy concert of the year. + Onward and nearer rides the sun of May; + And wide around, the marriage of the plants + Is sweetly solemnized. Then flows amain + The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag, + Hollow and lake, hillside and pine arcade, + Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff + Has thousand faces in a thousand hours. + + Beneath low hills, in the broad interval + Through which at will our Indian rivulet + Winds mindful still of sannup and of squaw, + Whose pipe and arrow oft the plough unburies, + Here in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, + Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell. + Traveller, to thee, perchance, a tedious road, + Or, it may be, a picture; to these men, + The landscape is an armory of powers, + Which, one by one, they know to draw and use. + They harness beast, bird, insect, to their work; + They prove the virtues of each bed of rock, + And, like the chemist 'mid his loaded jars, + Draw from each stratum its adapted use + To drug their crops or weapon their arts withal. + They turn the frost upon their chemic heap, + They set the wind to winnow pulse and grain, + They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime, + And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow, + Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods + O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year, + They fight the elements with elements + (That one would say, meadow and forest walked, + Transmuted in these men to rule their like), + And by the order in the field disclose + The order regnant in the yeoman's brain. + + What these strong masters wrote at large in miles, + I followed in small copy in my acre; + For there's no rood has not a star above it; + The cordial quality of pear or plum + Ascends as gladly in a single tree + As in broad orchards resonant with bees; + And every atom poises for itself, + And for the whole. The gentle deities + Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds, + The innumerable tenements of beauty. + The miracle of generative force, + Far-reaching concords of astronomy + Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds; + Better, the linked purpose of the whole, + And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty + In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave. + The polite found me impolite; the great + Would mortify me, but in vain; for still + I am a willow of the wilderness, + Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts + My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk, + A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush, + A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine, + Salve my worst wounds. + For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear: + 'Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie? + Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass + Into the winter night's extinguished mood? + Canst thou shine now, then darkle, + And being latent, feel thyself no less? + As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye, + The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure, + Yet envies none, none are unenviable.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DIRGE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CONCORD, 1838 +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I reached the middle of the mount + Up which the incarnate soul must climb, + And paused for them, and looked around, + With me who walked through space and time. + + Five rosy boys with morning light + Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, + Fronted the sun with hope as bright, + And greeted God with childhood's psalms. + + Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, + What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn? + + In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts; + I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts. + + The winding Concord gleamed below, + Pouring as wide a flood + As when my brothers, long ago, + Came with me to the wood. + + But they are gone,—the holy ones + Who trod with me this lovely vale; + The strong, star-bright companions + Are silent, low and pale. + + My good, my noble, in their prime, + Who made this world the feast it was + Who learned with me the lore of time, + Who loved this dwelling-place! + + They took this valley for their toy, + They played with it in every mood; + A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,— + They treated Nature as they would. + + They colored the horizon round; + Stars flamed and faded as they bade, + All echoes hearkened for their sound,— + They made the woodlands glad or mad. + + I touch this flower of silken leaf, + Which once our childhood knew; + Its soft leaves wound me with a grief + Whose balsam never grew. + + Hearken to yon pine-warbler + Singing aloft in the tree! + Hearest thou, O traveller, + What he singeth to me? + + Not unless God made sharp thine ear + With sorrow such as mine, + Out of that delicate lay could'st thou + Its heavy tale divine. + + 'Go, lonely man,' it saith; + 'They loved thee from their birth; + Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,— + There are no such hearts on earth. + + 'Ye drew one mother's milk, + One chamber held ye all; + A very tender history + Did in your childhood fall. + + 'You cannot unlock your heart, + The key is gone with them; + The silent organ loudest chants + The master's requiem.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THRENODY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The South-wind brings + Life, sunshine and desire, + And on every mount and meadow + Breathes aromatic fire; + But over the dead he has no power, + The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; + And, looking over the hills, I mourn + The darling who shall not return. + + I see my empty house, + I see my trees repair their boughs; + And he, the wondrous child, + Whose silver warble wild + Outvalued every pulsing sound + Within the air's cerulean round,— + The hyacinthine boy, for whom + Morn well might break and April bloom, + The gracious boy, who did adorn + The world whereinto he was born, + And by his countenance repay + The favor of the loving Day,— + Has disappeared from the Day's eye; + Far and wide she cannot find him; + My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him. + Returned this day, the South-wind searches, + And finds young pines and budding birches; + But finds not the budding man; + Nature, who lost, cannot remake him; + Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him; + Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain. + + And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, + O, whither tend thy feet? + I had the right, few days ago, + Thy steps to watch, thy place to know: + How have I forfeited the right? + Hast thou forgot me in a new delight? + I hearken for thy household cheer, + O eloquent child! + Whose voice, an equal messenger, + Conveyed thy meaning mild. + What though the pains and joys + Whereof it spoke were toys + Fitting his age and ken, + Yet fairest dames and bearded men, + Who heard the sweet request, + So gentle, wise and grave, + Bended with joy to his behest + And let the world's affairs go by, + A while to share his cordial game, + Or mend his wicker wagon-frame, + Still plotting how their hungry fear + That winsome voice again might hear; + For his lips could well pronounce + Words that were persuasions. + + Gentlest guardians marked serene + His early hope, his liberal mien; + Took counsel from his guiding eyes + To make this wisdom earthly wise. + Ah, vainly do these eyes recall + The school-march, each day's festival, + When every morn my bosom glowed + To watch the convoy on the road; + The babe in willow wagon closed, + With rolling eyes and face composed; + With children forward and behind, + Like Cupids studiously inclined; + And he the chieftain paced beside, + The centre of the troop allied, + With sunny face of sweet repose, + To guard the babe from fancied foes. + The little captain innocent + Took the eye with him as he went; + Each village senior paused to scan + And speak the lovely caravan. + From the window I look out + To mark thy beautiful parade, + Stately marching in cap and coat + To some tune by fairies played;— + A music heard by thee alone + To works as noble led thee on. + + Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, + Up and down their glances strain. + The painted sled stands where it stood; + The kennel by the corded wood; + His gathered sticks to stanch the wall + Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; + The ominous hole he dug in the sand, + And childhood's castles built or planned; + His daily haunts I well discern,— + The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,— + And every inch of garden ground + Paced by the blessed feet around, + From the roadside to the brook + Whereinto he loved to look. + Step the meek fowls where erst they ranged; + The wintry garden lies unchanged; + The brook into the stream runs on; + But the deep-eyed boy is gone. + + On that shaded day, + Dark with more clouds than tempests are, + When thou didst yield thy innocent breath + In birdlike heavings unto death, + Night came, and Nature had not thee; + I said, 'We are mates in misery.' + The morrow dawned with needless glow; + Each snowbird chirped, each fowl must crow; + Each tramper started; but the feet + Of the most beautiful and sweet + Of human youth had left the hill + And garden,—they were bound and still. + There's not a sparrow or a wren, + There's not a blade of autumn grain, + Which the four seasons do not tend + And tides of life and increase lend; + And every chick of every bird, + And weed and rock-moss is preferred. + O ostrich-like forgetfulness! + O loss of larger in the less! + Was there no star that could be sent, + No watcher in the firmament, + No angel from the countless host + That loiters round the crystal coast, + Could stoop to heal that only child, + Nature's sweet marvel undefiled, + And keep the blossom of the earth, + Which all her harvests were not worth? + Not mine,—I never called thee mine, + But Nature's heir,—if I repine, + And seeing rashly torn and moved + Not what I made, but what I loved, + Grow early old with grief that thou + Must to the wastes of Nature go,— + 'T is because a general hope + Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope. + For flattering planets seemed to say + This child should ills of ages stay, + By wondrous tongue, and guided pen, + Bring the flown Muses back to men. + Perchance not he but Nature ailed, + The world and not the infant failed. + It was not ripe yet to sustain + A genius of so fine a strain, + Who gazed upon the sun and moon + As if he came unto his own, + And, pregnant with his grander thought, + Brought the old order into doubt. + His beauty once their beauty tried; + They could not feed him, and he died, + And wandered backward as in scorn, + To wait an aeon to be born. + Ill day which made this beauty waste, + Plight broken, this high face defaced! + Some went and came about the dead; + And some in books of solace read; + Some to their friends the tidings say; + Some went to write, some went to pray; + One tarried here, there hurried one; + But their heart abode with none. + Covetous death bereaved us all, + To aggrandize one funeral. + The eager fate which carried thee + Took the largest part of me: + For this losing is true dying; + This is lordly man's down-lying, + This his slow but sure reclining, + Star by star his world resigning. + + O child of paradise, + Boy who made dear his father's home, + In whose deep eyes + Men read the welfare of the times to come, + I am too much bereft. + The world dishonored thou hast left. + O truth's and nature's costly lie! + O trusted broken prophecy! + O richest fortune sourly crossed! + Born for the future, to the future lost! + + The deep Heart answered, 'Weepest thou? + Worthier cause for passion wild + If I had not taken the child. + And deemest thou as those who pore, + With aged eyes, short way before,— + Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast + Of matter, and thy darling lost? + Taught he not thee—the man of eld, + Whose eyes within his eyes beheld + Heaven's numerous hierarchy span + The mystic gulf from God to man? + To be alone wilt thou begin + When worlds of lovers hem thee in? + To-morrow, when the masks shall fall + That dizen Nature's carnival, + The pure shall see by their own will, + Which overflowing Love shall fill, + 'T is not within the force of fate + The fate-conjoined to separate. + But thou, my votary, weepest thou? + I gave thee sight—where is it now? + I taught thy heart beyond the reach + Of ritual, bible, or of speech; + Wrote in thy mind's transparent table, + As far as the incommunicable; + Taught thee each private sign to raise + Lit by the supersolar blaze. + Past utterance, and past belief, + And past the blasphemy of grief, + The mysteries of Nature's heart; + And though no Muse can these impart, + Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, + And all is clear from east to west. + + 'I came to thee as to a friend; + Dearest, to thee I did not send + Tutors, but a joyful eye, + Innocence that matched the sky, + Lovely locks, a form of wonder, + Laughter rich as woodland thunder, + That thou might'st entertain apart + The richest flowering of all art: + And, as the great all-loving Day + Through smallest chambers takes its way, + That thou might'st break thy daily bread + With prophet, savior and head; + That thou might'st cherish for thine own + The riches of sweet Mary's Son, + Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon. + And thoughtest thou such guest + Would in thy hall take up his rest? + Would rushing life forget her laws, + Fate's glowing revolution pause? + High omens ask diviner guess; + Not to be conned to tediousness + And know my higher gifts unbind + The zone that girds the incarnate mind. + When the scanty shores are full + With Thought's perilous, whirling pool; + When frail Nature can no more, + Then the Spirit strikes the hour: + My servant Death, with solving rite, + Pours finite into infinite. + Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow, + Whose streams through Nature circling go? + Nail the wild star to its track + On the half-climbed zodiac? + Light is light which radiates, + Blood is blood which circulates, + Life is life which generates, + And many-seeming life is one,— + Wilt thou transfix and make it none? + Its onward force too starkly pent + In figure, bone and lineament? + Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, + Talker! the unreplying Fate? + Nor see the genius of the whole + Ascendant in the private soul, + Beckon it when to go and come, + Self-announced its hour of doom? + Fair the soul's recess and shrine, + Magic-built to last a season; + Masterpiece of love benign, + Fairer that expansive reason + Whose omen 'tis, and sign. + Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know + What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? + Verdict which accumulates + From lengthening scroll of human fates, + Voice of earth to earth returned, + Prayers of saints that inly burned,— + Saying, <i>What is excellent,</i> + <i>As God lives, is permanent;</i> + <i>Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;</i> + <i>Heart's love will meet thee again.</i> + Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye + Up to his style, and manners of the sky. + Not of adamant and gold + Built he heaven stark and cold; + No, but a nest of bending reeds, + Flowering grass and scented weeds; + Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, + Or bow above the tempest bent; + Built of tears and sacred flames, + And virtue reaching to its aims; + Built of furtherance and pursuing, + Not of spent deeds, but of doing. + Silent rushes the swift Lord + Through ruined systems still restored, + Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, + Plants with worlds the wilderness; + Waters with tears of ancient sorrow + Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. + House and tenant go to ground, + Lost in God, in Godhead found.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCORD HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE + MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837 + + By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, + Here once the embattled farmers stood + And fired the shot heard round the world. + + The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; + And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + + On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; + That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + + Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, + Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and thee. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II — MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAY-DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, + With sudden passion languishing, + Teaching Barren moors to smile, + Painting pictures mile on mile, + Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, + Whence a smokeless incense breathes. + The air is full of whistlings bland; + What was that I heard + Out of the hazy land? + Harp of the wind, or song of bird, + Or vagrant booming of the air, + Voice of a meteor lost in day? + Such tidings of the starry sphere + Can this elastic air convey. + Or haply 'twas the cannonade + Of the pent and darkened lake, + Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade, + Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break, + Afflicted moan, and latest hold + Even into May the iceberg cold. + Was it a squirrel's pettish bark, + Or clarionet of jay? or hark + Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, + Steering north with raucous cry + Through tracts and provinces of sky, + Every night alighting down + In new landscapes of romance, + Where darkling feed the clamorous clans + By lonely lakes to men unknown. + Come the tumult whence it will, + Voice of sport, or rush of wings, + It is a sound, it is a token + That the marble sleep is broken, + And a change has passed on things. + + When late I walked, in earlier days, + All was stiff and stark; + Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, + In the sky no spark; + Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, + Struggling through the drifted roads; + The whited desert knew me not, + Snow-ridges masked each darling spot; + The summer dells, by genius haunted, + One arctic moon had disenchanted. + All the sweet secrets therein hid + By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. + Eldest mason, Frost, had piled + Swift cathedrals in the wild; + The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts + In the star-lit minster aisled. + I found no joy: the icy wind + Might rule the forest to his mind. + Who would freeze on frozen lakes? + Back to books and sheltered home, + And wood-fire flickering on the walls, + To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games, + Without the baffled North-wind calls. + But soft! a sultry morning breaks; + The ground-pines wash their rusty green, + The maple-tops their crimson tint, + On the soft path each track is seen, + The girl's foot leaves its neater print. + The pebble loosened from the frost + Asks of the urchin to be tost. + In flint and marble beats a heart, + The kind Earth takes her children's part, + The green lane is the school-boy's friend, + Low leaves his quarrel apprehend, + The fresh ground loves his top and ball, + The air rings jocund to his call, + The brimming brook invites a leap, + He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. + The youth sees omens where he goes, + And speaks all languages the rose, + The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice + The far halloo of human voice; + The perfumed berry on the spray + Smacks of faint memories far away. + A subtle chain of countless rings + The next into the farthest brings, + And, striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form. + + The caged linnet in the Spring + Hearkens for the choral glee, + When his fellows on the wing + Migrate from the Southern Sea; + When trellised grapes their flowers unmask, + And the new-born tendrils twine, + The old wine darkling in the cask + Feels the bloom on the living vine, + And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: + And so, perchance, in Adam's race, + Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace + Survived the Flight and swam the Flood, + And wakes the wish in youngest blood + To tread the forfeit Paradise, + And feed once more the exile's eyes; + And ever when the happy child + In May beholds the blooming wild, + And hears in heaven the bluebird sing, + 'Onward,' he cries, 'your baskets bring,— + In the next field is air more mild, + And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier spring.' + + Not for a regiment's parade, + Nor evil laws or rulers made, + Blue Walden rolls its cannonade, + But for a lofty sign + Which the Zodiac threw, + That the bondage-days are told. + And waters free as winds shall flow. + Lo! how all the tribes combine + To rout the flying foe. + See, every patriot oak-leaf throws + His elfin length upon the snows, + Not idle, since the leaf all day + Draws to the spot the solar ray, + Ere sunset quarrying inches down, + And halfway to the mosses brown; + While the grass beneath the rime + Has hints of the propitious time, + And upward pries and perforates + Through the cold slab a thousand gates, + Till green lances peering through + Bend happy in the welkin blue. + + As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, + So Spring will not her time forerun, + Mix polar night with tropic glow, + Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, + Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, + But she has the temperance + Of the gods, whereof she is one,— + Masks her treasury of heat + Under east winds crossed with sleet. + Plants and birds and humble creatures + Well accept her rule austere; + Titan-born, to hardy natures + Cold is genial and dear. + As Southern wrath to Northern right + Is but straw to anthracite; + As in the day of sacrifice, + When heroes piled the pyre, + The dismal Massachusetts ice + Burned more than others' fire, + So Spring guards with surface cold + The garnered heat of ages old. + Hers to sow the seed of bread, + That man and all the kinds be fed; + And, when the sunlight fills the hours, + Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers. + + Beneath the calm, within the light, + A hid unruly appetite + Of swifter life, a surer hope, + Strains every sense to larger scope, + Impatient to anticipate + The halting steps of aged Fate. + Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl: + When Nature falters, fain would zeal + Grasp the felloes of her wheel, + And grasping give the orbs another whirl. + Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball! + And sun this frozen side. + Bring hither back the robin's call, + Bring back the tulip's pride. + + Why chidest thou the tardy Spring? + The hardy bunting does not chide; + The blackbirds make the maples ring + With social cheer and jubilee; + The redwing flutes his <i>o-ka-lee</i>, + The robins know the melting snow; + The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed, + Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves, + Secure the osier yet will hide + Her callow brood in mantling leaves,— + And thou, by science all undone, + Why only must thy reason fail + To see the southing of the sun? + + The world rolls round,—mistrust it not,— + Befalls again what once befell; + All things return, both sphere and mote, + And I shall hear my bluebird's note, + And dream the dream of Auburn dell. + + April cold with dropping rain + Willows and lilacs brings again, + The whistle of returning birds, + And trumpet-lowing of the herds. + The scarlet maple-keys betray + What potent blood hath modest May, + What fiery force the earth renews, + The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; + What joy in rosy waves outpoured + Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. + + Hither rolls the storm of heat; + I feel its finer billows beat + Like a sea which me infolds; + Heat with viewless fingers moulds, + Swells, and mellows, and matures, + Paints, and flavors, and allures, + Bird and brier inly warms, + Still enriches and transforms, + Gives the reed and lily length, + Adds to oak and oxen strength, + Transforming what it doth infold, + Life out of death, new out of old, + Painting fawns' and leopards' fells, + Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells, + Fires gardens with a joyful blaze + Of tulips, in the morning's rays. + The dead log touched bursts into leaf, + The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf. + What god is this imperial Heat, + Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat? + Doth it bear hidden in its heart + Water-line patterns of all art? + Is it Daedalus? is it Love? + Or walks in mask almighty Jove, + And drops from Power's redundant horn + All seeds of beauty to be born? + + Where shall we keep the holiday, + And duly greet the entering May? + Too strait and low our cottage doors, + And all unmeet our carpet floors; + Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, + Suffice to hold the festival. + Up and away! where haughty woods + Front the liberated floods: + We will climb the broad-backed hills, + Hear the uproar of their joy; + We will mark the leaps and gleams + Of the new-delivered streams, + And the murmuring rivers of sap + Mount in the pipes of the trees, + Giddy with day, to the topmost spire, + Which for a spike of tender green + Bartered its powdery cap; + And the colors of joy in the bird, + And the love in its carol heard, + Frog and lizard in holiday coats, + And turtle brave in his golden spots; + While cheerful cries of crag and plain + Reply to the thunder of river and main. + + As poured the flood of the ancient sea + Spilling over mountain chains, + Bending forests as bends the sedge, + Faster flowing o'er the plains,— + A world-wide wave with a foaming edge + That rims the running silver sheet,— + So pours the deluge of the heat + Broad northward o'er the land, + Painting artless paradises, + Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, + Fanning secret fires which glow + In columbine and clover-blow, + Climbing the northern zones, + Where a thousand pallid towns + Lie like cockles by the main, + Or tented armies on a plain. + The million-handed sculptor moulds + Quaintest bud and blossom folds, + The million-handed painter pours + Opal hues and purple dye; + Azaleas flush the island floors, + And the tints of heaven reply. + + Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring + To-day shall all her dowry bring, + The love of kind, the joy, the grace, + Hymen of element and race, + Knowing well to celebrate + With song and hue and star and state, + With tender light and youthful cheer, + The spousals of the new-born year. + + Spring is strong and virtuous, + Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, + Quickening underneath the mould + Grains beyond the price of gold. + So deep and large her bounties are, + That one broad, long midsummer day + Shall to the planet overpay + The ravage of a year of war. + + Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, + And send the nectar round; + The feet that slid so long on sleet + Are glad to feel the ground. + Fill and saturate each kind + With good according to its mind, + Fill each kind and saturate + With good agreeing with its fate, + And soft perfection of its plan— + Willow and violet, maiden and man. + + The bitter-sweet, the haunting air + Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; + It preys on all, all prey on it. + Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, + Stings the strong with enterprise, + Makes travellers long for Indian skies, + And where it comes this courier fleet + Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, + As if to-morrow should redeem + The vanished rose of evening's dream. + By houses lies a fresher green, + On men and maids a ruddier mien, + As if Time brought a new relay + Of shining virgins every May, + And Summer came to ripen maids + To a beauty that not fades. + + I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth, + Stepping daily onward north + To greet staid ancient cavaliers + Filing single in stately train. + And who, and who are the travellers? + They were Night and Day, and Day and Night, + Pilgrims wight with step forthright. + I saw the Days deformed and low, + Short and bent by cold and snow; + The merry Spring threw wreaths on them, + Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell; + Many a flower and many a gem, + They were refreshed by the smell, + They shook the snow from hats and shoon, + They put their April raiment on; + And those eternal forms, + Unhurt by a thousand storms, + Shot up to the height of the sky again, + And danced as merrily as young men. + I saw them mask their awful glance + Sidewise meek in gossamer lids; + And to speak my thought if none forbids + It was as if the eternal gods, + Tired of their starry periods, + Hid their majesty in cloth + Woven of tulips and painted moth. + On carpets green the maskers march + Below May's well-appointed arch, + Each star, each god; each grace amain, + Every joy and virtue speed, + Marching duly in her train, + And fainting Nature at her need + Is made whole again. + + 'Twas the vintage-day of field and wood, + When magic wine for bards is brewed; + Every tree and stem and chink + Gushed with syrup to the brink. + The air stole into the streets of towns, + Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns, + And betrayed the fund of joy + To the high-school and medalled boy: + On from hall to chamber ran, + From youth to maid, from boy to man, + To babes, and to old eyes as well. + 'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds, + Airy turrets purple-piled, + Which once my infancy beguiled, + Beguile me with the wonted spell. + I know ye skilful to convoy + The total freight of hope and joy + Into rude and homely nooks, + Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books, + On farmer's byre, on pasture rude, + And stony pathway to the wood. + I care not if the pomps you show + Be what they soothfast appear, + Or if yon realms in sunset glow + Be bubbles of the atmosphere. + And if it be to you allowed + To fool me with a shining cloud, + So only new griefs are consoled + By new delights, as old by old, + Frankly I will be your guest, + Count your change and cheer the best. + The world hath overmuch of pain,— + If Nature give me joy again, + Of such deceit I'll not complain.' + + Ah! well I mind the calendar, + Faithful through a thousand years, + Of the painted race of flowers, + Exact to days, exact to hours, + Counted on the spacious dial + Yon broidered zodiac girds. + I know the trusty almanac + Of the punctual coming-back, + On their due days, of the birds. + I marked them yestermorn, + A flock of finches darting + Beneath the crystal arch, + Piping, as they flew, a march,— + Belike the one they used in parting + Last year from yon oak or larch; + Dusky sparrows in a crowd, + Diving, darting northward free, + Suddenly betook them all, + Every one to his hole in the wall, + Or to his niche in the apple-tree. + I greet with joy the choral trains + Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. + Best gems of Nature's cabinet, + With dews of tropic morning wet, + Beloved of children, bards and Spring, + O birds, your perfect virtues bring, + Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, + Your manners for the heart's delight, + Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, + Here weave your chamber weather-proof, + Forgive our harms, and condescend + To man, as to a lubber friend, + And, generous, teach his awkward race + Courage and probity and grace! + + Poets praise that hidden wine + Hid in milk we drew + At the barrier of Time, + When our life was new. + We had eaten fairy fruit, + We were quick from head to foot, + All the forms we looked on shone + As with diamond dews thereon. + What cared we for costly joys, + The Museum's far-fetched toys? + Gleam of sunshine on the wall + Poured a deeper cheer than all + The revels of the Carnival. + We a pine-grove did prefer + To a marble theatre, + Could with gods on mallows dine, + Nor cared for spices or for wine. + Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned. + Arch on arch, the grimmest land; + Whittle of a woodland bird + Made the pulses dance, + Note of horn in valleys heard + Filled the region with romance. + + None can tell how sweet, + How virtuous, the morning air; + Every accent vibrates well; + Not alone the wood-bird's call, + Or shouting boys that chase their ball, + Pass the height of minstrel skill, + But the ploughman's thoughtless cry, + Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat, + And the joiner's hammer-beat, + Softened are above their will, + Take tones from groves they wandered through + Or flutes which passing angels blew. + All grating discords melt, + No dissonant note is dealt, + And though thy voice be shrill + Like rasping file on steel, + Such is the temper of the air, + Echo waits with art and care, + And will the faults of song repair. + + So by remote Superior Lake, + And by resounding Mackinac, + When northern storms the forest shake, + And billows on the long beach break, + The artful Air will separate + Note by note all sounds that grate, + Smothering in her ample breast + All but godlike words, + Reporting to the happy ear + Only purified accords. + Strangely wrought from barking waves, + Soft music daunts the Indian braves,— + Convent-chanting which the child + Hears pealing from the panther's cave + And the impenetrable wild. + + Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze: + So on thy broad mystic van + Lie the opal-colored days, + And waft the miracle to man. + Soothsayer of the eldest gods, + Repairer of what harms betide, + Revealer of the inmost powers + Prometheus proffered, Jove denied; + Disclosing treasures more than true, + Or in what far to-morrow due; + Speaking by the tongues of flowers, + By the ten-tongued laurel speaking, + Singing by the oriole songs, + Heart of bird the man's heart seeking; + Whispering hints of treasure hid + Under Morn's unlifted lid, + Islands looming just beyond + The dim horizon's utmost bound;— + Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid, + Or taunt us with our hope decayed? + Or who like thee persuade, + Making the splendor of the air, + The morn and sparkling dew, a snare? + Or who resent + Thy genius, wiles and blandishment? + + There is no orator prevails + To beckon or persuade + Like thee the youth or maid: + Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales, + Thy blooms, thy kinds, + Thy echoes in the wilderness, + Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress, + Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds. + + For thou, O Spring! canst renovate + All that high God did first create. + Be still his arm and architect, + Rebuild the ruin, mend defect; + Chemist to vamp old worlds with new, + Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue, + New tint the plumage of the birds, + And slough decay from grazing herds, + Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain, + Cleanse the torrent at the fountain, + Purge alpine air by towns defiled, + Bring to fair mother fairer child, + Not less renew the heart and brain, + Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain, + Make the aged eye sun-clear, + To parting soul bring grandeur near. + Under gentle types, my Spring + Masks the might of Nature's king, + An energy that searches thorough + From Chaos to the dawning morrow; + Into all our human plight, + The soul's pilgrimage and flight; + In city or in solitude, + Step by step, lifts bad to good, + Without halting, without rest, + Lifting Better up to Best; + Planting seeds of knowledge pure, + Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ADIRONDACS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A JOURNAL + + DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858 + + Wise and polite,—and if I drew + Their several portraits, you would own + Chaucer had no such worthy crew, + Nor Boccace in Decameron. + + We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends, + Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks + Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach + The Adirondac lakes. At Martin's Beach + We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide,— + Ten men, ten guides, our company all told. + + Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac, + With skies of benediction, to Round Lake, + Where all the sacred mountains drew around us, + Taháwus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead, + And other Titans without muse or name. + Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on, + Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills. + We made our distance wider, boat from boat, + As each would hear the oracle alone. + By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid + Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets, + Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel-flower, + Through scented banks of lilies white and gold, + Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day, + On through the Upper Saranac, and up + Père Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass + Winding through grassy shallows in and out, + Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge, + To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons. + + Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed, + Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge + Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore. + A pause and council: then, where near the head + Due east a bay makes inward to the land + Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank, + And in the twilight of the forest noon + Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard. + We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts, + Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof, + Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire. + + The wood was sovran with centennial trees,— + Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir, + Linden and spruce. In strict society + Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine, + Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby, + Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth, + The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower. + + 'Welcome!' the wood-god murmured through the leaves,— + 'Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.' + Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs, + Which o'erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire. + Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks, + Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor. + + Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft + In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed, + Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux, + And greet unanimous the joyful change. + So fast will Nature acclimate her sons, + Though late returning to her pristine ways. + Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold; + And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned, + Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds. + Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air + That circled freshly in their forest dress + Made them to boys again. Happier that they + Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind, + At the first mounting of the giant stairs. + No placard on these rocks warned to the polls, + No door-bell heralded a visitor, + No courier waits, no letter came or went, + Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold; + The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop, + The falling rain will spoil no holiday. + We were made freemen of the forest laws, + All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends, + Essaying nothing she cannot perform. + + In Adirondac lakes + At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded: + Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make + His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain, + He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn: + A paddle in the right hand, or an oar, + And in the left, a gun, his needful arms. + By turns we praised the stature of our guides, + Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill + To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp, + To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs + Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down: + Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount, + And wit to trap or take him in his lair. + Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent, + In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides; + Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired + Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve. + + Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen! + No city airs or arts pass current here. + Your rank is all reversed; let men or cloth + Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls: + <i>They</i> are the doctors of the wilderness, + And we the low-prized laymen. + In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test + Which few can put on with impunity. + What make you, master, fumbling at the oar? + Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here. + The sallow knows the basket-maker's thumb; + The oar, the guide's. Dare you accept the tasks + He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes, + Tell the sun's time, determine the true north, + Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods + To thread by night the nearest way to camp? + + Ask you, how went the hours? + All day we swept the lake, searched every cove, + North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay, + Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, + Or whipping its rough surface for a trout; + Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon; + Challenging Echo by our guns and cries; + Or listening to the laughter of the loon; + Or, in the evening twilight's latest red, + Beholding the procession of the pines; + Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, + In the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter + Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds + Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist. + Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods + Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck + Who stands astonished at the meteor light, + Then turns to bound away,—is it too late? + + Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark, + Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five; + Sometimes their wits at sally and retort, + With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; + Or parties scaled the near acclivities + Competing seekers of a rumored lake, + Whose unauthenticated waves we named + Lake Probability,—our carbuncle, + Long sought, not found. + + Two Doctors in the camp + Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout's brain, + Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew, + Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth; + Insatiate skill in water or in air + Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss; + The while, one leaden got of alcohol + Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds. + Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants, + Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus, + Rosy polygonum, lake-margin's pride, + Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss, + Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls. + Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed, + The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker + Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp. + As water poured through hollows of the hills + To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets, + So Nature shed all beauty lavishly + From her redundant horn. + + Lords of this realm, + Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day + Rounded by hours where each outdid the last + In miracles of pomp, we must be proud, + As if associates of the sylvan gods. + We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac, + So pure the Alpine element we breathed, + So light, so lofty pictures came and went. + We trode on air, contemned the distant town, + Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned + That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge + And how we should come hither with our sons, + Hereafter,—willing they, and more adroit. + + Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery,— + The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito + Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands: + But, on the second day, we heed them not, + Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries, + Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names. + For who defends our leafy tabernacle + From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd,— + Who but the midge, mosquito and the fly, + Which past endurance sting the tender cit, + But which we learn to scatter with a smudge, + Or baffle by a veil, or slight by scorn? + + Our foaming ale we drank from hunters' pans, + Ale, and a sup of wine. Our steward gave + Venison and trout, potatoes, beans, wheat-bread; + All ate like abbots, and, if any missed + Their wonted convenance, cheerly hid the loss + With hunters' appetite and peals of mirth. + And Stillman, our guides' guide, and Commodore, + Crusoe, Crusader, Pius Aeneas, said aloud, + "Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating + Food indigestible":—then murmured some, + Others applauded him who spoke the truth. + + Nor doubt but visitings of graver thought + Checked in these souls the turbulent heyday + 'Mid all the hints and glories of the home. + For who can tell what sudden privacies + Were sought and found, amid the hue and cry + Of scholars furloughed from their tasks and let + Into this Oreads' fended Paradise, + As chapels in the city's thoroughfares, + Whither gaunt Labor slips to wipe his brow + And meditate a moment on Heaven's rest. + Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke + To each apart, lifting her lovely shows + To spiritual lessons pointed home, + And as through dreams in watches of the night, + So through all creatures in their form and ways + Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant, + Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense + Inviting to new knowledge, one with old. + Hark to that petulant chirp! what ails the warbler? + Mark his capricious ways to draw the eye. + Now soar again. What wilt thou, restless bird, + Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light, + Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky? + + And presently the sky is changed; O world! + What pictures and what harmonies are thine! + The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, + So like the soul of me, what if 't were me? + A melancholy better than all mirth. + Comes the sweet sadness at the retrospect, + Or at the foresight of obscurer years? + Like yon slow-sailing cloudy promontory + Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty + Superior to all its gaudy skirts. + And, that no day of life may lack romance, + The spiritual stars rise nightly, shedding down + A private beam into each several heart. + Daily the bending skies solicit man, + The seasons chariot him from this exile, + The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing chair, + The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, + Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights + Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home. + + With a vermilion pencil mark the day + When of our little fleet three cruising skiffs + Entering Big Tupper, bound for the foaming Falls + Of loud Bog River, suddenly confront + Two of our mates returning with swift oars. + One held a printed journal waving high + Caught from a late-arriving traveller, + Big with great news, and shouted the report + For which the world had waited, now firm fact, + Of the wire-cable laid beneath the sea, + And landed on our coast, and pulsating + With ductile fire. Loud, exulting cries + From boat to boat, and to the echoes round, + Greet the glad miracle. Thought's new-found path + Shall supplement henceforth all trodden ways, + Match God's equator with a zone of art, + And lift man's public action to a height + Worthy the enormous cloud of witnesses, + When linkèd hemispheres attest his deed. + We have few moments in the longest life + Of such delight and wonder as there grew,— + Nor yet unsuited to that solitude: + A burst of joy, as if we told the fact + To ears intelligent; as if gray rock + And cedar grove and cliff and lake should know + This feat of wit, this triumph of mankind; + As if we men were talking in a vein + Of sympathy so large, that ours was theirs, + And a prime end of the most subtle element + Were fairly reached at last. Wake, echoing caves! + Bend nearer, faint day-moon! Yon thundertops, + Let them hear well! 'tis theirs as much as ours. + + A spasm throbbing through the pedestals + Of Alp and Andes, isle and continent, + Urging astonished Chaos with a thrill + To be a brain, or serve the brain of man. + The lightning has run masterless too long; + He must to school and learn his verb and noun + And teach his nimbleness to earn his wage, + Spelling with guided tongue man's messages + Shot through the weltering pit of the salt sea. + And yet I marked, even in the manly joy + Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat + (Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent; + Or was it for mankind a generous shame, + As of a luck not quite legitimate, + Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? + Was it a college pique of town and gown, + As one within whose memory it burned + That not academicians, but some lout, + Found ten years since the Californian gold? + And now, again, a hungry company + Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, + Perversely borrowing from the shop the tools + Of science, not from the philosophers, + Had won the brightest laurel of all time. + 'Twas always thus, and will be; hand and head + Are ever rivals: but, though this be swift, + The other slow,—this the Prometheus, + And that the Jove,—yet, howsoever hid, + It was from Jove the other stole his fire, + And, without Jove, the good had never been. + It is not Iroquois or cannibals, + But ever the free race with front sublime, + And these instructed by their wisest too, + Who do the feat, and lift humanity. + Let not him mourn who best entitled was, + Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, + Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, + And water it with wine, nor watch askance + Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: + Enough that mankind eat and are refreshed. + + We flee away from cities, but we bring + The best of cities with us, these learned classifiers, + Men knowing what they seek, armed eyes of experts. + We praise the guide, we praise the forest life: + But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore + Of books and arts and trained experiment, + Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? + O no, not we! Witness the shout that shook + Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail + The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge + Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears + From a log cabin stream Beethoven's notes + On the piano, played with master's hand. + 'Well done!' he cries; 'the bear is kept at bay, + The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; + All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, + This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, + This wild plantation will suffice to chase. + Now speed the gay celerities of art, + What in the desert was impossible + Within four walls is possible again,— + Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill, + Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife + Of keen competing youths, joined or alone + To outdo each other and extort applause. + Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. + Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again, + On for a thousand years of genius more.' + + The holidays were fruitful, but must end; + One August evening had a cooler breath; + Into each mind intruding duties crept; + Under the cinders burned the fires of home; + Nay, letters found us in our paradise: + So in the gladness of the new event + We struck our camp and left the happy hills. + The fortunate star that rose on us sank not; + The prodigal sunshine rested on the land, + The rivers gambolled onward to the sea, + And Nature, the inscrutable and mute, + Permitted on her infinite repose + Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, + As if one riddle of the Sphinx were guessed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BRAHMA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If the red slayer think he slays, + Or if the slain think he is slain, + They know not well the subtle ways + I keep, and pass, and turn again. + + Far or forgot to me is near; + Shadow and sunlight are the same; + The vanished gods to me appear; + And one to me are shame and fame. + + They reckon ill who leave me out; + When me they fly, I am the wings; + I am the doubter and the doubt, + And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. + + The strong gods pine for my abode, + And pine in vain the sacred Seven; + But thou, meek lover of the good! + Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NEMESIS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Already blushes on thy cheek + The bosom thought which thou must speak; + The bird, how far it haply roam + By cloud or isle, is flying home; + The maiden fears, and fearing runs + Into the charmed snare she shuns; + And every man, in love or pride, + Of his fate is never wide. + + Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth? + Or prayers the stony Parcae soothe, + Or coax the thunder from its mark? + Or tapers light the chaos dark? + In spite of Virtue and the Muse, + Nemesis will have her dues, + And all our struggles and our toils + Tighter wind the giant coils. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Deep in the man sits fast his fate + To mould his fortunes, mean or great: + Unknown to Cromwell as to me + Was Cromwell's measure or degree; + Unknown to him as to his horse, + If he than his groom be better or worse. + He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, + With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, + Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, + Broad England harbored not his peer: + Obeying time, the last to own + The Genius from its cloudy throne. + For the prevision is allied + Unto the thing so signified; + Or say, the foresight that awaits + Is the same Genius that creates. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FREEDOM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Once I wished I might rehearse + Freedom's paean in my verse, + That the slave who caught the strain + Should throb until he snapped his chain, + But the Spirit said, 'Not so; + Speak it not, or speak it low; + Name not lightly to be said, + Gift too precious to be prayed, + Passion not to be expressed + But by heaving of the breast: + Yet,—wouldst thou the mountain find + Where this deity is shrined, + Who gives to seas and sunset skies + Their unspent beauty of surprise, + And, when it lists him, waken can + Brute or savage into man; + Or, if in thy heart he shine, + Blends the starry fates with thine, + Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, + And makes thy thoughts archangels be; + Freedom's secret wilt thou know?— + Counsel not with flesh and blood; + Loiter not for cloak or food; + Right thou feelest, rush to do.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ODE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 + + O tenderly the haughty day + Fills his blue urn with fire; + One morn is in the mighty heaven, + And one in our desire. + + The cannon booms from town to town, + Our pulses beat not less, + The joy-bells chime their tidings down, + Which children's voices bless. + + For He that flung the broad blue fold + O'er-mantling land and sea, + One third part of the sky unrolled + For the banner of the free. + + The men are ripe of Saxon kind + To build an equal state,— + To take the statute from the mind + And make of duty fate. + + United States! the ages plead,— + Present and Past in under-song,— + Go put your creed into your deed, + Nor speak with double tongue. + + For sea and land don't understand, + Nor skies without a frown + See rights for which the one hand fights + By the other cloven down. + + Be just at home; then write your scroll + Of honor o'er the sea, + And bid the broad Atlantic roll, + A ferry of the free. + + And henceforth there shall be no chain, + Save underneath the sea + The wires shall murmur through the main + Sweet songs of liberty. + + The conscious stars accord above, + The waters wild below, + And under, through the cable wove, + Her fiery errands go. + + For He that worketh high and wise. + Nor pauses in his plan, + Will take the sun out of the skies + Ere freedom out of man. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOSTON HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863 + + The word of the Lord by night + To the watching Pilgrims came, + As they sat by the seaside, + And filled their hearts with flame. + + God said, I am tired of kings, + I suffer them no more; + Up to my ear the morning brings + The outrage of the poor. + + Think ye I made this ball + A field of havoc and war, + Where tyrants great and tyrants small + Might harry the weak and poor? + + My angel,—his name is Freedom,— + Choose him to be your king; + He shall cut pathways east and west + And fend you with his wing. + + Lo! I uncover the land + Which I hid of old time in the West, + As the sculptor uncovers the statue + When he has wrought his best; + + I show Columbia, of the rocks + Which dip their foot in the seas + And soar to the air-borne flocks + Of clouds and the boreal fleece. + + I will divide my goods; + Call in the wretch and slave: + None shall rule but the humble. + And none but Toil shall have. + + I will have never a noble, + No lineage counted great; + Fishers and choppers and ploughmen + Shall constitute a state. + + Go, cut down trees in the forest + And trim the straightest boughs; + Cut down trees in the forest + And build me a wooden house. + + Call the people together, + The young men and the sires, + The digger in the harvest-field, + Hireling and him that hires; + + And here in a pine state-house + They shall choose men to rule + In every needful faculty, + In church and state and school. + + Lo, now! if these poor men + Can govern the land and sea + And make just laws below the sun, + As planets faithful be. + + And ye shall succor men; + 'Tis nobleness to serve; + Help them who cannot help again: + Beware from right to swerve. + + I break your bonds and masterships, + And I unchain the slave: + Free be his heart and hand henceforth + As wind and wandering wave. + + I cause from every creature + His proper good to flow: + As much as he is and doeth, + So much he shall bestow. + + But, laying hands on another + To coin his labor and sweat, + He goes in pawn to his victim + For eternal years in debt. + + To-day unbind the captive, + So only are ye unbound; + Lift up a people from the dust, + Trump of their rescue, sound! + + Pay ransom to the owner + And fill the bag to the brim. + Who is the owner? The slave is owner, + And ever was. Pay him. + + O North! give him beauty for rags, + And honor, O South! for his shame; + Nevada! coin thy golden crags + With Freedom's image and name. + + Up! and the dusky race + That sat in darkness long,— + Be swift their feet as antelopes. + And as behemoth strong. + + Come, East and West and North, + By races, as snow-flakes, + And carry my purpose forth, + Which neither halts nor shakes. + + My will fulfilled shall be, + For, in daylight or in dark, + My thunderbolt has eyes to see + His way home to the mark. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUNTARIES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Low and mournful be the strain, + Haughty thought be far from me; + Tones of penitence and pain, + Meanings of the tropic sea; + Low and tender in the cell + Where a captive sits in chains. + Crooning ditties treasured well + From his Afric's torrid plains. + Sole estate his sire bequeathed,— + Hapless sire to hapless son,— + Was the wailing song he breathed, + And his chain when life was done. + + What his fault, or what his crime? + Or what ill planet crossed his prime? + Heart too soft and will too weak + To front the fate that crouches near,— + Dove beneath the vulture's beak;— + Will song dissuade the thirsty spear? + Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, + Displaced, disfurnished here, + His wistful toil to do his best + Chilled by a ribald jeer. + Great men in the Senate sate, + Sage and hero, side by side, + Building for their sons the State, + Which they shall rule with pride. + They forbore to break the chain + Which bound the dusky tribe, + Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, + Lured by 'Union' as the bribe. + Destiny sat by, and said, + 'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, + Hide in false peace your coward head, + I bring round the harvest day.' + + II + + Freedom all winged expands, + Nor perches in a narrow place; + Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; + She loves a poor and virtuous race. + Clinging to a colder zone + Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, + The snowflake is her banner's star, + Her stripes the boreal streamers are. + Long she loved the Northman well; + Now the iron age is done, + She will not refuse to dwell + With the offspring of the Sun; + Foundling of the desert far, + Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, + He roves unhurt the burning ways + In climates of the summer star. + He has avenues to God + Hid from men of Northern brain, + Far beholding, without cloud, + What these with slowest steps attain. + If once the generous chief arrive + To lead him willing to be led, + For freedom he will strike and strive, + And drain his heart till he be dead. + + III + + In an age of fops and toys, + Wanting wisdom, void of right, + Who shall nerve heroic boys + To hazard all in Freedom's fight,— + Break sharply off their jolly games, + Forsake their comrades gay + And quit proud homes and youthful dames + For famine, toil and fray? + Yet on the nimble air benign + Speed nimbler messages, + That waft the breath of grace divine + To hearts in sloth and ease. + So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When Duty whispers low, <i>Thou must</i>, + The youth replies, <i>I can</i>. + + IV + + O, well for the fortunate soul + Which Music's wings infold, + Stealing away the memory + Of sorrows new and old! + Yet happier he whose inward sight, + Stayed on his subtile thought, + Shuts his sense on toys of time, + To vacant bosoms brought. + But best befriended of the God + He who, in evil times, + Warned by an inward voice, + Heeds not the darkness and the dread, + Biding by his rule and choice, + Feeling only the fiery thread + Leading over heroic ground, + Walled with mortal terror round, + To the aim which him allures, + And the sweet heaven his deed secures. + Peril around, all else appalling, + Cannon in front and leaden rain + Him duty through the clarion calling + To the van called not in vain. + + Stainless soldier on the walls, + Knowing this,—and knows no more,— + Whoever fights, whoever falls, + Justice conquers evermore, + Justice after as before,— + And he who battles on her side, + God, though he were ten times slain, + Crowns him victor glorified, + Victor over death and pain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + V + + Blooms the laurel which belongs + To the valiant chief who fights; + I see the wreath, I hear the songs + Lauding the Eternal Rights, + Victors over daily wrongs: + Awful victors, they misguide + Whom they will destroy, + And their coming triumph hide + In our downfall, or our joy: + They reach no term, they never sleep, + In equal strength through space abide; + Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, + The strong they slay, the swift outstride: + Fate's grass grows rank in valley clods, + And rankly on the castled steep,— + Speak it firmly, these are gods, + All are ghosts beside. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE AND THOUGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two well-assorted travellers use + The highway, Eros and the Muse. + From the twins is nothing hidden, + To the pair is nought forbidden; + Hand in hand the comrades go + Every nook of Nature through: + Each for other they were born, + Each can other best adorn; + They know one only mortal grief + Past all balsam or relief; + When, by false companions crossed, + The pilgrims have each other lost. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Roving, roving, as it seems, + Una lights my clouded dreams; + Still for journeys she is dressed; + We wander far by east and west. + + In the homestead, homely thought, + At my work I ramble not; + If from home chance draw me wide, + Half-seen Una sits beside. + + In my house and garden-plot, + Though beloved, I miss her not; + But one I seek in foreign places, + One face explore in foreign faces. + + At home a deeper thought may light + The inward sky with chrysolite, + And I greet from far the ray, + Aurora of a dearer day. + + But if upon the seas I sail, + Or trundle on the glowing rail, + I am but a thought of hers, + Loveliest of travellers. + + So the gentle poet's name + To foreign parts is blown by fame, + Seek him in his native town, + He is hidden and unknown. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOSTON + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS + + The rocky nook with hilltops three + Looked eastward from the farms, + And twice each day the flowing sea + Took Boston in its arms; + The men of yore were stout and poor, + And sailed for bread to every shore. + + And where they went on trade intent + They did what freemen can, + Their dauntless ways did all men praise, + The merchant was a man. + The world was made for honest trade,— + To plant and eat be none afraid. + + The waves that rocked them on the deep + To them their secret told; + Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, + 'Like us be free and bold!' + The honest waves refused to slaves + The empire of the ocean caves. + + Old Europe groans with palaces, + Has lords enough and more;— + We plant and build by foaming seas + A city of the poor;— + For day by day could Boston Bay + Their honest labor overpay. + + We grant no dukedoms to the few, + We hold like rights, and shall;— + Equal on Sunday in the pew, + On Monday in the mall, + For what avail the plough or sail, + Or land or life, if freedom fail? + + The noble craftsman we promote, + Disown the knave and fool; + Each honest man shall have his vote, + Each child shall have his school. + A union then of honest men, + Or union never more again. + + The wild rose and the barberry thorn + Hung out their summer pride, + Where now on heated pavements worn + The feet of millions stride. + + Fair rose the planted hills behind + The good town on the bay, + And where the western hills declined + The prairie stretched away. + + What care though rival cities soar + Along the stormy coast, + Penn's town, New York and Baltimore, + If Boston knew the most! + + They laughed to know the world so wide; + The mountains said, 'Good-day! + We greet you well, you Saxon men, + Up with your towns and stay!' + The world was made for honest trade,— + To plant and eat be none afraid. + + 'For you,' they said, 'no barriers be, + For you no sluggard rest; + Each street leads downward to the sea, + Or landward to the west.' + + O happy town beside the sea, + Whose roads lead everywhere to all; + Than thine no deeper moat can be, + No stouter fence, no steeper wall! + + Bad news from George on the English throne; + 'You are thriving well,' said he; + 'Now by these presents be it known + You shall pay us a tax on tea; + 'Tis very small,—no load at all,— + Honor enough that we send the call. + + 'Not so,' said Boston, 'good my lord, + We pay your governors here + Abundant for their bed and board, + Six thousand pounds a year. + (Your Highness knows our homely word) + Millions for self-government, + But for tribute never a cent.' + + The cargo came! and who could blame + If <i>Indians</i> seized the tea, + And, chest by chest, let down the same, + Into the laughing sea? + For what avail the plough or sail, + Or land or life, if freedom fail? + + The townsmen braved the English king, + Found friendship in the French, + And honor joined the patriot ring + Low on their wooden bench. + + O bounteous seas that never fail! + O day remembered yet! + O happy port that spied the sail + Which wafted Lafayette! + Pole-star of light in Europe's night, + That never faltered from the right. + + Kings shook with fear, old empires crave + The secret force to find + Which fired the little State to save + The rights of all mankind. + + But right is might through all the world; + Province to province faithful clung, + Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled, + Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung. + + The sea returning day by day + Restores the world-wide mart; + So let each dweller on the Bay + Fold Boston in his heart, + Till these echoes be choked with snows, + Or over the town blue ocean flows. + + Let the blood of her hundred thousands + Throb in each manly vein; + And the wits of all her wisest, + Make sunshine in her brain. + For you can teach the lightning speech, + And round the globe your voices reach. + + And each shall care for other, + And each to each shall bend, + To the poor a noble brother, + To the good an equal friend. + + A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers! + GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every day brings a ship, + Every ship brings a word; + Well for those who have no fear. + Looking seaward, well assured + That the word the vessel brings + Is the word they wish to hear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RUBIES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They brought me rubies from the mine, + And held them to the sun; + I said, they are drops of frozen wine + From Eden's vats that run. + + I looked again,—I thought them hearts + Of friends to friends unknown; + Tides that should warm each neighboring life + Are locked in sparkling stone. + + But fire to thaw that ruddy snow, + To break enchanted ice, + And give love's scarlet tides to flow,— + When shall that sun arise? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MERLIN'S SONG + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Of Merlin wise I learned a song,— + Sing it low or sing it loud, + It is mightier than the strong, + And punishes the proud. + I sing it to the surging crowd,— + Good men it will calm and cheer, + Bad men it will chain and cage— + In the heart of the music peals a strain + Which only angels hear; + Whether it waken joy or rage + Hushed myriads hark in vain, + Yet they who hear it shed their age, + And take their youth again. + + II + + Hear what British Merlin sung, + Of keenest eye and truest tongue. + Say not, the chiefs who first arrive + Usurp the seats for which all strive; + The forefathers this land who found + Failed to plant the vantage-ground; + Ever from one who comes to-morrow + Men wait their good and truth to borrow. + But wilt thou measure all thy road, + See thou lift the lightest load. + Who has little, to him who has less, can spare, + And thou, Cyndyllan's son! beware + Ponderous gold and stuffs to bear, + To falter ere thou thy task fulfil,— + Only the light-armed climb the hill. + The richest of all lords is Use, + And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse. + Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, + Drink the wild air's salubrity: + When the star Canope shines in May, + Shepherds are thankful and nations gay. + The music that can deepest reach, + And cure all ill, is cordial speech: + Mask thy wisdom with delight, + Toy with the bow, yet hit the white. + Of all wit's uses, the main one + Is to live well with who has none. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Musa loquitur.) + + I hung my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults may find. + All were winnowed through and through, + Five lines lasted sound and true; + Five were smelted in a pot + Than the South more fierce and hot; + These the siroc could not melt, + Fire their fiercer flaming felt, + And the meaning was more white + Than July's meridian light. + Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, + Nor time unmake what poets know. + Have you eyes to find the five + Which five hundred did survive? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SOLUTION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am the Muse who sung alway + By Jove, at dawn of the first day. + Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wrought + To fire the stagnant earth with thought: + On spawning slime my song prevails, + Wolves shed their fangs, and dragons scales; + Flushed in the sky the sweet May-morn, + Earth smiled with flowers, and man was born. + Then Asia yeaned her shepherd race, + And Nile substructs her granite base,— + Tented Tartary, columned Nile,— + And, under vines, on rocky isle, + Or on wind-blown sea-marge bleak, + Forward stepped the perfect Greek: + That wit and joy might find a tongue, + And earth grow civil, HOMER sung. + + Flown to Italy from Greece, + I brooded long and held my peace, + For I am wont to sing uncalled, + And in days of evil plight + Unlock doors of new delight; + And sometimes mankind I appalled + With a bitter horoscope, + With spasms of terror for balm of hope. + Then by better thought I lead + Bards to speak what nations need; + So I folded me in fears, + And DANTE searched the triple spheres, + Moulding Nature at his will, + So shaped, so colored, swift or still, + And, sculptor-like, his large design + Etched on Alp and Apennine. + + Seethed in mists of Penmanmaur, + Taught by Plinlimmon's Druid power, + England's genius filled all measure + Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, + Gave to the mind its emperor, + And life was larger than before: + Nor sequent centuries could hit + Orbit and sum of SHAKSPEARE'S wit. + The men who lived with him became + Poets, for the air was fame. + + Far in the North, where polar night + Holds in check the frolic light, + In trance upborne past mortal goal + The Swede EMANUEL leads the soul. + Through snows above, mines underground, + The inks of Erebus he found; + Rehearsed to men the damned wails + On which the seraph music sails. + In spirit-worlds he trod alone, + But walked the earth unmarked, unknown, + The near bystander caught no sound,— + Yet they who listened far aloof + Heard rendings of the skyey roof, + And felt, beneath, the quaking ground; + And his air-sown, unheeded words, + In the next age, are flaming swords. + + In newer days of war and trade, + Romance forgot, and faith decayed, + When Science armed and guided war, + And clerks the Janus-gates unbar, + When France, where poet never grew, + Halved and dealt the globe anew, + GOETHE, raised o'er joy and strife, + Drew the firm lines of Fate and Life + And brought Olympian wisdom down + To court and mart, to gown and town. + Stooping, his finger wrote in clay + The open secret of to-day. + + So bloom the unfading petals five, + And verses that all verse outlive. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION + OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS + + We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;— + In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod. + + Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, + And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place. + + And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, + And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife. + + From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, + And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again; + + For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, + Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below. + + They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, + And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way. + + On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, + Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE I + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Winters know + Easily to shed the snow, + And the untaught Spring is wise + In cowslips and anemonies. + Nature, hating art and pains, + Baulks and baffles plotting brains; + Casualty and Surprise + Are the apples of her eyes; + But she dearly loves the poor, + And, by marvel of her own, + Strikes the loud pretender down. + For Nature listens in the rose + And hearkens in the berry's bell + To help her friends, to plague her foes, + And like wise God she judges well. + Yet doth much her love excel + To the souls that never fell, + To swains that live in happiness + And do well because they please, + Who walk in ways that are unfamed, + And feats achieve before they're named. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She is gamesome and good, + But of mutable mood,— + No dreary repeater now and again, + She will be all things to all men. + She who is old, but nowise feeble, + Pours her power into the people, + Merry and manifold without bar, + Makes and moulds them what they are, + And what they call their city way + Is not their way, but hers, + And what they say they made to-day, + They learned of the oaks and firs. + She spawneth men as mallows fresh, + Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; + She drugs her water and her wheat + With the flavors she finds meet, + And gives them what to drink and eat; + And having thus their bread and growth, + They do her bidding, nothing loath. + What's most theirs is not their own, + But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, + And in their vaunted works of Art + The master-stroke is still her part. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ROMANY GIRL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun goes down, and with him takes + The coarseness of my poor attire; + The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame + Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. + + Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; + You captives of your air-tight halls, + Wear out indoors your sickly days, + But leave us the horizon walls. + + And if I take you, dames, to task, + And say it frankly without guile, + Then you are Gypsies in a mask, + And I the lady all the while. + + If on the heath, below the moon, + I court and play with paler blood, + Me false to mine dare whisper none,— + One sallow horseman knows me good. + + Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, + For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; + My swarthy tint is in the grain, + The rocks and forest know it real. + + The wild air bloweth in our lungs, + The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, + The birds gave us our wily tongues, + The panther in our dances flies. + + You doubt we read the stars on high, + Nathless we read your fortunes true; + The stars may hide in the upper sky, + But without glass we fathom you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DAYS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, + Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, + And marching single in an endless file, + Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. + To each they offer gifts after his will, + Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. + I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, + Forgot my morning wishes, hastily + Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day + Turned and departed silent. I, too late, + Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MY GARDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I could put my woods in song + And tell what's there enjoyed, + All men would to my gardens throng, + And leave the cities void. + + In my plot no tulips blow,— + Snow-loving pines and oaks instead; + And rank the savage maples grow + From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red. + + My garden is a forest ledge + Which older forests bound; + The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, + Then plunge to depths profound. + + Here once the Deluge ploughed, + Laid the terraces, one by one; + Ebbing later whence it flowed, + They bleach and dry in the sun. + + The sowers made haste to depart,— + The wind and the birds which sowed it; + Not for fame, nor by rules of art, + Planted these, and tempests flowed it. + + Waters that wash my garden-side + Play not in Nature's lawful web, + They heed not moon or solar tide,— + Five years elapse from flood to ebb. + + Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, + And every god,—none did refuse; + And be sure at last came Love, + And after Love, the Muse. + + Keen ears can catch a syllable, + As if one spake to another, + In the hemlocks tall, untamable, + And what the whispering grasses smother. + + Aeolian harps in the pine + Ring with the song of the Fates; + Infant Bacchus in the vine,— + Far distant yet his chorus waits. + + Canst thou copy in verse one chime + Of the wood-bell's peal and cry, + Write in a book the morning's prime, + Or match with words that tender sky? + + Wonderful verse of the gods, + Of one import, of varied tone; + They chant the bliss of their abodes + To man imprisoned in his own. + + Ever the words of the gods resound; + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear. + + Wandering voices in the air + And murmurs in the wold + Speak what I cannot declare, + Yet cannot all withhold. + + When the shadow fell on the lake, + The whirlwind in ripples wrote + Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, + And omens above thought. + + But the meanings cleave to the lake, + Cannot be carried in book or urn; + Go thy ways now, come later back, + On waves and hedges still they burn. + + These the fates of men forecast, + Of better men than live to-day; + If who can read them comes at last + He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Day! hast thou two faces, + Making one place two places? + One, by humble farmer seen, + Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, + Useful only, triste and damp, + Serving for a laborer's lamp? + Have the same mists another side, + To be the appanage of pride, + Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, + His park where amber mornings break, + And treacherously bright to show + His planted isle where roses glow? + O Day! and is your mightiness + A sycophant to smug success? + Will the sweet sky and ocean broad + Be fine accomplices to fraud? + O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray: + Back, back to chaos, harlot Day! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TITMOUSE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You shall not be overbold + When you deal with arctic cold, + As late I found my lukewarm blood + Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. + How should I fight? my foeman fine + Has million arms to one of mine: + East, west, for aid I looked in vain, + East, west, north, south, are his domain. + Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; + Must borrow his winds who there would come. + Up and away for life! be fleet!— + The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, + Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, + Curdles the blood to the marble bones, + Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, + And hems in life with narrowing fence. + Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,— + The punctual stars will vigil keep,— + Embalmed by purifying cold; + The winds shall sing their dead-march old, + The snow is no ignoble shroud, + The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. + + Softly,—but this way fate was pointing, + 'T was coming fast to such anointing, + When piped a tiny voice hard by, + Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, + <i>Chic-chic-a-dee-de!</i> saucy note + Out of sound heart and merry throat, + As if it said, 'Good day, good sir! + Fine afternoon, old passenger! + Happy to meet you in these places, + Where January brings few faces.' + + This poet, though he live apart, + Moved by his hospitable heart, + Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, + To do the honors of his court, + As fits a feathered lord of land; + Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, + Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, + Prints his small impress on the snow, + Shows feats of his gymnastic play, + Head downward, clinging to the spray. + + Here was this atom in full breath, + Hurling defiance at vast death; + This scrap of valor just for play + Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, + As if to shame my weak behavior; + I greeted loud my little savior, + 'You pet! what dost here? and what for? + In these woods, thy small Labrador, + At this pinch, wee San Salvador! + What fire burns in that little chest + So frolic, stout and self-possest? + Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine; + Ashes and jet all hues outshine. + Why are not diamonds black and gray, + To ape thy dare-devil array? + And I affirm, the spacious North + Exists to draw thy virtue forth. + I think no virtue goes with size; + The reason of all cowardice + Is, that men are overgrown, + And, to be valiant, must come down + To the titmouse dimension.' + + 'T is good will makes intelligence, + And I began to catch the sense + Of my bird's song: 'Live out of doors + In the great woods, on prairie floors. + I dine in the sun; when he sinks in the sea, + I too have a hole in a hollow tree; + And I like less when Summer beats + With stifling beams on these retreats, + Than noontide twilights which snow makes + With tempest of the blinding flakes. + For well the soul, if stout within, + Can arm impregnably the skin; + And polar frost my frame defied, + Made of the air that blows outside.' + + With glad remembrance of my debt, + I homeward turn; farewell, my pet! + When here again thy pilgrim comes, + He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. + Doubt not, so long as earth has bread, + Thou first and foremost shalt be fed; + The Providence that is most large + Takes hearts like thine in special charge, + Helps who for their own need are strong, + And the sky doats on cheerful song. + Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant + O'er all that mass and minster vaunt; + For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, + As 't would accost some frivolous wing, + Crying out of the hazel copse, <i>Phe-be!</i> + And, in winter, <i>Chic-a-dee-dee!</i> + I think old Caesar must have heard + In northern Gaul my dauntless bird, + And, echoed in some frosty wold, + Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. + And I will write our annals new, + And thank thee for a better clew, + I, who dreamed not when I came here + To find the antidote of fear, + Now hear thee say in Roman key, + <i>Paean! Veni, vidi, vici.</i> +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HARP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One musician is sure, + His wisdom will not fail, + He has not tasted wine impure, + Nor bent to passion frail. + Age cannot cloud his memory, + Nor grief untune his voice, + Ranging down the ruled scale + From tone of joy to inward wail, + Tempering the pitch of all + In his windy cave. + He all the fables knows, + And in their causes tells,— + Knows Nature's rarest moods, + Ever on her secret broods. + The Muse of men is coy, + Oft courted will not come; + In palaces and market squares + Entreated, she is dumb; + But my minstrel knows and tells + The counsel of the gods, + Knows of Holy Book the spells, + Knows the law of Night and Day, + And the heart of girl and boy, + The tragic and the gay, + And what is writ on Table Round + Of Arthur and his peers; + What sea and land discoursing say + In sidereal years. + He renders all his lore + In numbers wild as dreams, + Modulating all extremes,— + What the spangled meadow saith + To the children who have faith; + Only to children children sing, + Only to youth will spring be spring. + + Who is the Bard thus magnified? + When did he sing? and where abide? + + Chief of song where poets feast + Is the wind-harp which thou seest + In the casement at my side. + + Aeolian harp, + How strangely wise thy strain! + Gay for youth, gay for youth, + (Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,) + In the hall at summer eve + Fate and Beauty skilled to weave. + From the eager opening strings + Rung loud and bold the song. + Who but loved the wind-harp's note? + How should not the poet doat + On its mystic tongue, + With its primeval memory, + Reporting what old minstrels told + Of Merlin locked the harp within,— + Merlin paying the pain of sin, + Pent in a dungeon made of air,— + And some attain his voice to hear, + Words of pain and cries of fear, + But pillowed all on melody, + As fits the griefs of bards to be. + And what if that all-echoing shell, + Which thus the buried Past can tell, + Should rive the Future, and reveal + What his dread folds would fain conceal? + It shares the secret of the earth, + And of the kinds that owe her birth. + Speaks not of self that mystic tone, + But of the Overgods alone: + It trembles to the cosmic breath,— + As it heareth, so it saith; + Obeying meek the primal Cause, + It is the tongue of mundane laws. + And this, at least, I dare affirm, + Since genius too has bound and term, + There is no bard in all the choir, + Not Homer's self, the poet sire, + Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, + Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure, + Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, + Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, + Scott, the delight of generous boys, + Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,— + Not one of all can put in verse, + Or to this presence could rehearse + The sights and voices ravishing + The boy knew on the hills in spring, + When pacing through the oaks he heard + Sharp queries of the sentry-bird, + The heavy grouse's sudden whir, + The rattle of the kingfisher; + Saw bonfires of the harlot flies + In the lowland, when day dies; + Or marked, benighted and forlorn, + The first far signal-fire of morn. + These syllables that Nature spoke, + And the thoughts that in him woke, + Can adequately utter none + Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. + Therein I hear the Parcae reel + The threads of man at their humming wheel, + The threads of life and power and pain, + So sweet and mournful falls the strain. + And best can teach its Delphian chord + How Nature to the soul is moored, + If once again that silent string, + As erst it wont, would thrill and ring. + + Not long ago at eventide, + It seemed, so listening, at my side + A window rose, and, to say sooth, + I looked forth on the fields of youth: + I saw fair boys bestriding steeds, + I knew their forms in fancy weeds, + Long, long concealed by sundering fates, + Mates of my youth,—yet not my mates, + Stronger and bolder far than I, + With grace, with genius, well attired, + And then as now from far admired, + Followed with love + They knew not of, + With passion cold and shy. + O joy, for what recoveries rare! + Renewed, I breathe Elysian air, + See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,— + Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb! + Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil + Of life resurgent from the soil + Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEASHORE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea + Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? + Am I not always here, thy summer home? + Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? + My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, + My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? + Was ever building like my terraces? + Was ever couch magnificent as mine? + Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn + A little hut suffices like a town. + I make your sculptured architecture vain, + Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, + And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. + Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, + Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs + Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab + Older than all thy race. + + Behold the Sea, + The opaline, the plentiful and strong, + Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, + Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; + Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, + Purger of earth, and medicine of men; + Creating a sweet climate by my breath, + Washing out harms and griefs from memory, + And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, + Giving a hint of that which changes not. + Rich are the sea-gods:—who gives gifts but they? + They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: + They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. + For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, + Wealth to the cunning artist who can work + This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! + A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? + + I with my hammer pounding evermore + The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, + Strewing my bed, and, in another age, + Rebuild a continent of better men. + Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out + The exodus of nations: I disperse + Men to all shores that front the hoary main. + + I too have arts and sorceries; + Illusion dwells forever with the wave. + I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal + With credulous and imaginative man; + For, though he scoop my water in his palm, + A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. + Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, + I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, + To distant men, who must go there, or die. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONG OF NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mine are the night and morning, + The pits of air, the gulf of space, + The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, + The innumerable days. + + I hide in the solar glory, + I am dumb in the pealing song, + I rest on the pitch of the torrent, + In slumber I am strong. + + No numbers have counted my tallies, + No tribes my house can fill, + I sit by the shining Fount of Life + And pour the deluge still; + + And ever by delicate powers + Gathering along the centuries + From race on race the rarest flowers, + My wreath shall nothing miss. + + And many a thousand summers + My gardens ripened well, + And light from meliorating stars + With firmer glory fell. + + I wrote the past in characters + Of rock and fire the scroll, + The building in the coral sea, + The planting of the coal. + + And thefts from satellites and rings + And broken stars I drew, + And out of spent and aged things + I formed the world anew; + + What time the gods kept carnival, + Tricked out in star and flower, + And in cramp elf and saurian forms + They swathed their too much power. + + Time and Thought were my surveyors, + They laid their courses well, + They boiled the sea, and piled the layers + Of granite, marl and shell. + + But he, the man-child glorious,— + Where tarries he the while? + The rainbow shines his harbinger, + The sunset gleams his smile. + + My boreal lights leap upward, + Forthright my planets roll, + And still the man-child is not born, + The summit of the whole. + + Must time and tide forever run? + Will never my winds go sleep in the west? + Will never my wheels which whirl the sun + And satellites have rest? + + Too much of donning and doffing, + Too slow the rainbow fades, + I weary of my robe of snow, + My leaves and my cascades; + + I tire of globes and races, + Too long the game is played; + What without him is summer's pomp, + Or winter's frozen shade? + + I travail in pain for him, + My creatures travail and wait; + His couriers come by squadrons, + He comes not to the gate. + + Twice I have moulded an image, + And thrice outstretched my hand, + Made one of day and one of night + And one of the salt sea-sand. + + One in a Judaean manger, + And one by Avon stream, + One over against the mouths of Nile, + And one in the Academe. + + I moulded kings and saviors, + And bards o'er kings to rule;— + But fell the starry influence short, + The cup was never full. + + Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more, + And mix the bowl again; + Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements, + Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain. + + Let war and trade and creeds and song + Blend, ripen race on race, + The sunburnt world a man shall breed + Of all the zones and countless days. + + No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, + My oldest force is good as new, + And the fresh rose on yonder thorn + Gives back the bending heavens in dew. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO RIVERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, + Repeats the music of the rain; + But sweeter rivers pulsing flit + Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. + + Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: + The stream I love unbounded goes + Through flood and sea and firmament; + Through light, through life, it forward flows. + + I see the inundation sweet, + I hear the spending of the stream + Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, + Through love and thought, through power and dream. + + Musketaquit, a goblin strong, + Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; + They lose their grief who hear his song, + And where he winds is the day of day. + + So forth and brighter fares my stream,— + Who drink it shall not thirst again; + No darkness stains its equal gleam. + And ages drop in it like rain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WALDEINSAMKEIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not count the hours I spend + In wandering by the sea; + The forest is my loyal friend, + Like God it useth me. + + In plains that room for shadows make + Of skirting hills to lie, + Bound in by streams which give and take + Their colors from the sky; + + Or on the mountain-crest sublime, + Or down the oaken glade, + O what have I to do with time? + For this the day was made. + + Cities of mortals woe-begone + Fantastic care derides, + But in the serious landscape lone + Stern benefit abides. + + Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, + And merry is only a mask of sad, + But, sober on a fund of joy, + The woods at heart are glad. + + There the great Planter plants + Of fruitful worlds the grain, + And with a million spells enchants + The souls that walk in pain. + + Still on the seeds of all he made + The rose of beauty burns; + Through times that wear and forms that fade, + Immortal youth returns. + + The black ducks mounting from the lake, + The pigeon in the pines, + The bittern's boom, a desert make + Which no false art refines. + + Down in yon watery nook, + Where bearded mists divide, + The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, + The sires of Nature, hide. + + Aloft, in secret veins of air, + Blows the sweet breath of song, + O, few to scale those uplands dare, + Though they to all belong! + + See thou bring not to field or stone + The fancies found in books; + Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, + To brave the landscape's looks. + + Oblivion here thy wisdom is, + Thy thrift, the sleep of cares; + For a proud idleness like this + Crowns all thy mean affairs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TERMINUS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is time to be old, + To take in sail:— + The god of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds, + And said: 'No more! + No farther shoot + Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. + Fancy departs: no more invent; + Contract thy firmament + To compass of a tent. + There's not enough for this and that, + Make thy option which of two; + Economize the failing river, + Not the less revere the Giver, + Leave the many and hold the few. + Timely wise accept the terms, + Soften the fall with wary foot; + A little while + Still plan and smile, + And,—fault of novel germs,— + Mature the unfallen fruit. + Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, + Bad husbands of their fires, + Who, when they gave thee breath, + Failed to bequeath + The needful sinew stark as once, + The Baresark marrow to thy bones, + But left a legacy of ebbing veins, + Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,— + Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, + Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' + + As the bird trims her to the gale, + I trim myself to the storm of time, + I man the rudder, reef the sail, + Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: + 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, + Right onward drive unharmed; + The port, well worth the cruise, is near, + And every wave is charmed.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The yesterday doth never smile, + The day goes drudging through the while, + Yet, in the name of Godhead, I + The morrow front, and can defy; + Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, + Cannot withhold his conquering aid. + Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, + If He should make my web a blot + On life's fair picture of delight, + My heart's content would find it right. + But O, these waves and leaves,— + When happy stoic Nature grieves, + No human speech so beautiful + As their murmurs mine to lull. + On this altar God hath built + I lay my vanity and guilt; + Nor me can Hope or Passion urge + Hearing as now the lofty dirge + Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, + Nature's funeral high and dim,— + Sable pageantry of clouds, + Mourning summer laid in shrouds. + Many a day shall dawn and die, + Many an angel wander by, + And passing, light my sunken turf + Moist perhaps by ocean surf, + Forgotten amid splendid tombs, + Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. + On earth I dream;—I die to be: + Time, shake not thy bald head at me. + I challenge thee to hurry past + Or for my turn to fly too fast. + Think me not numbed or halt with age, + Or cares that earth to earth engage, + Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, + Or mired by climate's gross extremes. + I tire of shams, I rush to be: + I pass with yonder comet free,— + Pass with the comet into space + Which mocks thy aeons to embrace; + Aeons which tardily unfold + Realm beyond realm,—extent untold; + No early morn, no evening late,— + Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, + Whose shining sons, too great for fame, + Never heard thy weary name; + Nor lives the tragic bard to say + How drear the part I held in one, + How lame the other limped away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APRIL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The April winds are magical + And thrill our tuneful frames; + The garden walks are passional + To bachelors and dames. + The hedge is gemmed with diamonds, + The air with Cupids full, + The cobweb clues of Rosamond + Guide lovers to the pool. + Each dimple in the water, + Each leaf that shades the rock + Can cozen, pique and flatter, + Can parley and provoke. + Goodfellow, Puck and goblins, + Know more than any book. + Down with your doleful problems, + And court the sunny brook. + The south-winds are quick-witted, + The schools are sad and slow, + The masters quite omitted + The lore we care to know. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Soft and softlier hold me, friends! + Thanks if your genial care + Unbind and give me to the air. + Keep your lips or finger-tips + For flute or spinet's dancing chips; + I await a tenderer touch, + I ask more or not so much: + Give me to the atmosphere,— + Where is the wind, my brother,—where? + Lift the sash, lay me within, + Lend me your ears, and I begin. + For gentle harp to gentle hearts + The secret of the world imparts; + And not to-day and not to-morrow + Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; + But day by day, to loving ear + Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. + I've come to live with you, sweet friends, + This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. + Many and subtle are my lays, + The latest better than the first, + For I can mend the happiest days + And charm the anguish of the worst. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CUPIDO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The solid, solid universe + Is pervious to Love; + With bandaged eyes he never errs, + Around, below, above. + His blinding light + He flingeth white + On God's and Satan's brood, + And reconciles + By mystic wiles + The evil and the good. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PAST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The debt is paid, + The verdict said, + The Furies laid, + The plague is stayed. + All fortunes made; + Turn the key and bolt the door, + Sweet is death forevermore. + Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, + Nor murdering hate, can enter in. + All is now secure and fast; + Not the gods can shake the Past; + Flies-to the adamantine door + Bolted down forevermore. + None can reënter there,— + No thief so politic, + No Satan with a royal trick + Steal in by window, chink, or hole, + To bind or unbind, add what lacked, + Insert a leaf, or forge a name, + New-face or finish what is packed, + Alter or mend eternal Fact. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LAST FAREWELL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, + EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT + OF BOSTON HARBOR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF + PORTO RICO, IN 1832 + + Farewell, ye lofty spires + That cheered the holy light! + Farewell, domestic fires + That broke the gloom of night! + Too soon those spires are lost, + Too fast we leave the bay, + Too soon by ocean tost + From hearth and home away, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell the busy town, + The wealthy and the wise, + Kind smile and honest frown + From bright, familiar eyes. + All these are fading now; + Our brig hastes on her way, + Her unremembering prow + Is leaping o'er the sea, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, my mother fond, + Too kind, too good to me; + Nor pearl nor diamond + Would pay my debt to thee. + But even thy kiss denies + Upon my cheek to stay; + The winged vessel flies, + And billows round her play, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, my brothers true, + My betters, yet my peers; + How desert without you + My few and evil years! + But though aye one in heart, + Together sad or gay, + Rude ocean doth us part; + We separate to-day, + Far away, far away. + + Farewell, thou fairest one, + Unplighted yet to me, + Uncertain of thine own + I gave my heart to thee. + That untold early love + I leave untold to-day, + My lips in whisper move + Farewell to ...! + Far away, far away. + + Farewell I breathe again + To dim New England's shore, + My heart shall beat not when + I pant for thee no more. + In yon green palmy isle, + Beneath the tropic ray, + I murmur never while + For thee and thine I pray; + Far away, far away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0100" id="link2H_4_0100"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I mourn upon this battle-field, + But not for those who perished here. + Behold the river-bank + Whither the angry farmers came, + In sloven dress and broken rank, + Nor thought of fame. + Their deed of blood + All mankind praise; + Even the serene Reason says, + It was well done. + The wise and simple have one glance + To greet yon stern head-stone, + Which more of pride than pity gave + To mark the Briton's friendless grave. + Yet it is a stately tomb; + The grand return + Of eve and morn, + The year's fresh bloom, + The silver cloud, + Might grace the dust that is most proud. + + Yet not of these I muse + In this ancestral place, + But of a kindred face + That never joy or hope shall here diffuse. + + Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! + What hast thou to do with these + Haunting this bank's historic trees? + Thou born for noblest life, + For action's field, for victor's car, + Thou living champion of the right? + To these their penalty belonged: + I grudge not these their bed of death, + But thine to thee, who never wronged + The poorest that drew breath. + + All inborn power that could + Consist with homage to the good + Flamed from his martial eye; + He who seemed a soldier born, + He should have the helmet worn, + All friends to fend, all foes defy, + Fronting foes of God and man, + Frowning down the evil-doer, + Battling for the weak and poor. + His from youth the leader's look + Gave the law which others took, + And never poor beseeching glance + Shamed that sculptured countenance. + + There is no record left on earth, + Save in tablets of the heart, + Of the rich inherent worth, + Of the grace that on him shone, + Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit: + He could not frame a word unfit, + An act unworthy to be done; + Honor prompted every glance, + Honor came and sat beside him, + In lowly cot or painful road, + And evermore the cruel god + Cried "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed, + Born for success he seemed, + With grace to win, with heart to hold, + With shining gifts that took all eyes, + With budding power in college-halls, + As pledged in coming days to forge + Weapons to guard the State, or scourge + Tyrants despite their guards or walls. + On his young promise Beauty smiled, + Drew his free homage unbeguiled, + And prosperous Age held out his hand, + And richly his large future planned, + And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,— + All, all was given, and only health denied. + + I see him with superior smile + Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train + In lands remote, in toil and pain, + With angel patience labor on, + With the high port he wore erewhile, + When, foremost of the youthful band, + The prizes in all lists he won; + Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, + And, least of all, the loyal tie + Which holds to home 'neath every sky, + The joy and pride the pilgrim feels + In hearts which round the hearth at home + Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam. + + What generous beliefs console + The brave whom Fate denies the goal! + If others reach it, is content; + To Heaven's high will his will is bent. + Firm on his heart relied, + What lot soe'er betide, + Work of his hand + He nor repents nor grieves, + Pleads for itself the fact, + As unrepenting Nature leaves + Her every act. + + Fell the bolt on the branching oak; + The rainbow of his hope was broke; + No craven cry, no secret tear,— + He told no pang, he knew no fear; + Its peace sublime his aspect kept, + His purpose woke, his features slept; + And yet between the spasms of pain + His genius beamed with joy again. + + O'er thy rich dust the endless smile + Of Nature in thy Spanish isle + Hints never loss or cruel break + And sacrifice for love's dear sake, + Nor mourn the unalterable Days + That Genius goes and Folly stays. + What matters how, or from what ground, + The freed soul its Creator found? + Alike thy memory embalms + That orange-grove, that isle of palms, + And these loved banks, whose oak-bough bold + Root in the blood of heroes old. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0101" id="link2H_4_0101"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III — ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0102" id="link2H_4_0102"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EXPERIENCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The lords of life, the lords of life,— + I saw them pass + In their own guise, + Like and unlike, + Portly and grim,— + Use and Surprise, + Surface and Dream, + Succession swift and spectral Wrong, + Temperament without a tongue, + And the inventor of the game + Omnipresent without name;— + Some to see, some to be guessed, + They marched from east to west: + Little man, least of all, + Among the legs of his guardians tall, + Walked about with puzzled look. + Him by the hand dear Nature took, + Dearest Nature, strong and kind, + Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! + To-morrow they will wear another face, + The founder thou; these are thy race!' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0103" id="link2H_4_0103"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COMPENSATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The wings of Time are black and white, + Pied with morning and with night. + Mountain tall and ocean deep + Trembling balance duly keep. + In changing moon and tidal wave + Glows the feud of Want and Have. + Gauge of more and less through space, + Electric star or pencil plays, + The lonely Earth amid the balls + That hurry through the eternal halls, + A makeweight flying to the void, + Supplemental asteroid, + Or compensatory spark, + Shoots across the neutral Dark. + + Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; + Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: + Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, + None from its stock that vine can reave. + Fear not, then, thou child infirm, + There's no god dare wrong a worm; + Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, + And power to him who power exerts. + Hast not thy share? On winged feet, + Lo it rushes thee to meet; + And all that Nature made thy own, + Floating in air or pent in stone, + Will rive the hills and swim the sea, + And, like thy shadow, follow thee. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0104" id="link2H_4_0104"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POLITICS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gold and iron are good + To buy iron and gold; + All earth's fleece and food + For their like are sold. + Boded Merlin wise, + Proved Napoleon great, + Nor kind nor coinage buys + Aught above its rate. + Fear, Craft and Avarice + Cannot rear a State. + Out of dust to build + What is more than dust, + Walls Amphion piled + Phoebus stablish must. + When the Muses nine + With the Virtues meet, + Find to their design + An Atlantic seat, + By green orchard boughs + Fended from the heat, + here the statesman ploughs + Furrow for the wheat,— + When the Church is social worth, + When the state-house is the hearth, + Then the perfect State is come, + The republican at home. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0105" id="link2H_4_0105"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HEROISM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, + Sugar spends to fatten slaves, + Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; + Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, + Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, + Lightning-knotted round his head; + The hero is not fed on sweets, + Daily his own heart he eats; + Chambers of the great are jails, + And head-winds right for royal sails. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0106" id="link2H_4_0106"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHARACTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun set, but set not his hope: + Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: + Fixed on the enormous galaxy, + Deeper and older seemed his eye; + And matched his sufferance sublime + The taciturnity of time. + He spoke, and words more soft than rain + Brought the Age of Gold again: + His action won such reverence sweet + As hid all measure of the feat. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0107" id="link2H_4_0107"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CULTURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Can rules or tutors educate + The semigod whom we await? + He must be musical, + Tremulous, impressional, + Alive to gentle influence + Of landscape and of sky, + And tender to the spirit-touch + Of man's or maiden's eye: + But, to his native centre fast, + Shall into Future fuse the Past, + And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0108" id="link2H_4_0108"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRIENDSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A ruddy drop of manly blood + The surging sea outweighs, + The world uncertain comes and goes; + The lover rooted stays. + I fancied he was fled,— + And, after many a year, + Glowed unexhausted kindliness, + Like daily sunrise there. + My careful heart was free again, + O friend, my bosom said, + Through thee alone the sky is arched, + Through thee the rose is red; + All things through thee take nobler form, + And look beyond the earth, + The mill-round of our fate appears + A sun-path in thy worth. + Me too thy nobleness has taught + To master my despair; + The fountains of my hidden life + Are through thy friendship fair. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0109" id="link2H_4_0109"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SPIRITUAL LAWS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The living Heaven thy prayers respect, + House at once and architect, + Quarrying man's rejected hours, + Builds therewith eternal towers; + Sole and self-commanded works, + Fears not undermining days, + Grows by decays, + And, by the famous might that lurks + In reaction and recoil, + Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; + Forging, through swart arms of Offence, + The silver seat of Innocence. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0110" id="link2H_4_0110"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BEAUTY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Was never form and never face + So sweet to SEYD as only grace + Which did not slumber like a stone, + But hovered gleaming and was gone. + Beauty chased he everywhere, + In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. + He smote the lake to feed his eye + With the beryl beam of the broken wave; + He flung in pebbles well to hear + The moment's music which they gave. + Oft pealed for him a lofty tone + From nodding pole and belting zone. + He heard a voice none else could hear + From centred and from errant sphere. + The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, + Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. + In dens of passion, and pits of woe, + He saw strong Eros struggling through, + To sun the dark and solve the curse, + And beam to the bounds of the universe. + While thus to love he gave his days + In loyal worship, scorning praise, + How spread their lures for him in vain + Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! + He thought it happier to be dead, + To die for Beauty, than live for bread. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0111" id="link2H_4_0111"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MANNERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Grace, Beauty and Caprice + Build this golden portal; + Graceful women, chosen men, + Dazzle every mortal. + Their sweet and lofty countenance + His enchanted food; + He need not go to them, their forms + Beset his solitude. + He looketh seldom in their face, + His eyes explore the ground,— + The green grass is a looking-glass + Whereon their traits are found. + Little and less he says to them, + So dances his heart in his breast; + Their tranquil mien bereaveth him + Of wit, of words, of rest. + Too weak to win, too fond to shun + The tyrants of his doom, + The much deceived Endymion + Slips behind a tomb. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0112" id="link2H_4_0112"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ART + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Give to barrows, trays and pans + Grace and glimmer of romance; + Bring the moonlight into noon + Hid in gleaming piles of stone; + On the city's paved street + Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; + Let spouting fountains cool the air, + Singing in the sun-baked square; + Let statue, picture, park and hall, + Ballad, flag and festival, + The past restore, the day adorn, + And make to-morrow a new morn. + So shall the drudge in dusty frock + Spy behind the city clock + Retinues of airy kings, + Skirts of angels, starry wings, + His fathers shining in bright fables, + His children fed at heavenly tables. + 'T is the privilege of Art + Thus to play its cheerful part, + Man on earth to acclimate + And bend the exile to his fate, + And, moulded of one element + With the days and firmament, + Teach him on these as stairs to climb, + And live on even terms with Time; + Whilst upper life the slender rill + Of human sense doth overfill. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0113" id="link2H_4_0113"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNITY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Space is ample, east and west, + But two cannot go abreast, + Cannot travel in it two: + Yonder masterful cuckoo + Crowds every egg out of the nest, + Quick or dead, except its own; + A spell is laid on sod and stone, + Night and Day were tampered with, + Every quality and pith + Surcharged and sultry with a power + That works its will on age and hour. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0114" id="link2H_4_0114"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WORSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is he, who, felled by foes, + Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: + He to captivity was sold, + But him no prison-bars would hold: + Though they sealed him in a rock, + Mountain chains he can unlock: + Thrown to lions for their meat, + The crouching lion kissed his feet; + Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, + But arched o'er him an honoring vault. + This is he men miscall Fate, + Threading dark ways, arriving late, + But ever coming in time to crown + The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. + He is the oldest, and best known, + More near than aught thou call'st thy own, + Yet, greeted in another's eyes, + Disconcerts with glad surprise. + This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, + Floods with blessings unawares. + Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line + Severing rightly his from thine, + Which is human, which divine. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0115" id="link2H_4_0115"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PRUDENCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Theme no poet gladly sung, + Fair to old and foul to young; + Scorn not thou the love of parts, + And the articles of arts. + Grandeur of the perfect sphere + Thanks the atoms that cohere. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0116" id="link2H_4_0116"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + A subtle chain of countless rings + The next unto the farthest brings; + The eye reads omens where it goes, + And speaks all languages the rose; + And, striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form. + + II + + The rounded world is fair to see, + Nine times folded in mystery: + Though baffled seers cannot impart + The secret of its laboring heart, + Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, + And all is clear from east to west. + Spirit that lurks each form within + Beckons to spirit of its kin; + Self-kindled every atom glows + And hints the future which it owes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0117" id="link2H_4_0117"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INFORMING SPIRIT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + There is no great and no small + To the Soul that maketh all: + And where it cometh, all things are; + And it cometh everywhere. + + II + + I am owner of the sphere, + Of the seven stars and the solar year, + Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, + Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0118" id="link2H_4_0118"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIRCLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nature centres into balls, + And her proud ephemerals, + Fast to surface and outside, + Scan the profile of the sphere; + Knew they what that signified, + A new genesis were here. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0119" id="link2H_4_0119"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTELLECT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go, speed the stars of Thought + On to their shining goals;— + The sower scatters broad his seed; + The wheat thou strew'st be souls. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0120" id="link2H_4_0120"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIFTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gifts of one who loved me,— + 'T was high time they came; + When he ceased to love me, + Time they stopped for shame. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0121" id="link2H_4_0121"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROMISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In countless upward-striving waves + The moon-drawn tide-wave strives; + In thousand far-transplanted grafts + The parent fruit survives; + So, in the new-born millions, + The perfect Adam lives. + Not less are summer mornings dear + To every child they wake, + And each with novel life his sphere + Fills for his proper sake. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CARITAS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the suburb, in the town, + On the railway, in the square, + Came a beam of goodness down + Doubling daylight everywhere: + Peace now each for malice takes, + Beauty for his sinful weeds, + For the angel Hope aye makes + Him an angel whom she leads. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POWER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His tongue was framed to music, + And his hand was armed with skill; + His face was the mould of beauty, + And his heart the throne of will. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0124" id="link2H_4_0124"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WEALTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who shall tell what did befall, + Far away in time, when once, + Over the lifeless ball, + Hung idle stars and suns? + What god the element obeyed? + Wings of what wind the lichen bore, + Wafting the puny seeds of power, + Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade? + And well the primal pioneer + Knew the strong task to it assigned, + Patient through Heaven's enormous year + To build in matter home for mind. + From air the creeping centuries drew + The matted thicket low and wide, + This must the leaves of ages strew + The granite slab to clothe and hide, + Ere wheat can wave its golden pride. + What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled + (In dizzy aeons dim and mute + The reeling brain can ill compute) + Copper and iron, lead and gold? + What oldest star the fame can save + Of races perishing to pave + The planet with a floor of lime? + Dust is their pyramid and mole: + Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed + Under the tumbling mountain's breast, + In the safe herbal of the coal? + But when the quarried means were piled, + All is waste and worthless, till + Arrives the wise selecting will, + And, out of slime and chaos, Wit + Draws the threads of fair and fit. + Then temples rose, and towns, and marts, + The shop of toil, the hall of arts; + Then flew the sail across the seas + To feed the North from tropic trees; + The storm-wind wove, the torrent span, + Where they were bid, the rivers ran; + New slaves fulfilled the poet's dream, + Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam. + Then docks were built, and crops were stored, + And ingots added to the hoard. + But though light-headed man forget, + Remembering Matter pays her debt: + Still, through her motes and masses, draw + Electric thrills and ties of law, + Which bind the strengths of Nature wild + To the conscience of a child. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0125" id="link2H_4_0125"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ILLUSIONS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Flow, flow the waves hated, + Accursed, adored, + The waves of mutation; + No anchorage is. + Sleep is not, death is not; + Who seem to die live. + House you were born in, + Friends of your spring-time, + Old man and young maid, + Day's toil and its guerdon, + They are all vanishing, + Fleeing to fables, + Cannot be moored. + See the stars through them, + Through treacherous marbles. + Know the stars yonder, + The stars everlasting, + Are fugitive also, + And emulate, vaulted, + The lambent heat lightning + And fire-fly's flight. + + When thou dost return + On the wave's circulation, + Behold the shimmer, + The wild dissipation, + And, out of endeavor + To change and to flow, + The gas become solid, + And phantoms and nothings + Return to be things, + And endless imbroglio + Is law and the world,— + Then first shalt thou know, + That in the wild turmoil, + Horsed on the Proteus, + Thou ridest to power, + And to endurance. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0126" id="link2H_4_0126"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV — QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0127" id="link2H_4_0127"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + QUATRAINS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A.H. + + High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, + Her manners made of bounty well refined; + Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, + Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0128" id="link2H_4_0128"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HUSH! + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every thought is public, + Every nook is wide; + Thy gossips spread each whisper, + And the gods from side to side. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0129" id="link2H_4_0129"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ORATOR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who has no hands + Perforce must use his tongue; + Foxes are so cunning + Because they are not strong. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0130" id="link2H_4_0130"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ARTIST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Quit the hut, frequent the palace, + Reck not what the people say; + For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, + Huntsmen find the easiest way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0131" id="link2H_4_0131"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ever the Poet <i>from</i> the land + Steers his bark and trims his sail; + Right out to sea his courses stand, + New worlds to find in pinnace frail. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To clothe the fiery thought + In simple words succeeds, + For still the craft of genius is + To mask a king in weeds. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0133" id="link2H_4_0133"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOTANIST + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go thou to thy learned task, + I stay with the flowers of Spring: + Do thou of the Ages ask + What me the Hours will bring. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0134" id="link2H_4_0134"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GARDENER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, + Expound the Vedas of the violet, + Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, + See the plum redden, and the beurré stoop. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0135" id="link2H_4_0135"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORESTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He took the color of his vest + From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; + For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, + So walks the woodman, unespied. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0136" id="link2H_4_0136"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NORTHMAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The gale that wrecked you on the sand, + It helped my rowers to row; + The storm is my best galley hand + And drives me where I go. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM ALCUIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sea is the road of the bold, + Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, + The pit wherein the streams are rolled + And fountain of the rains. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0138" id="link2H_4_0138"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EXCELSIOR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Over his head were the maple buds, + And over the tree was the moon, + And over the moon were the starry studs + That drop from the angels' shoon. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S.H. + + With beams December planets dart + His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, + July was in his sunny heart, + October in his liberal hand. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0139" id="link2H_4_0139"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BORROWING + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM THE FRENCH + + Some of your hurts you have cured, + And the sharpest you still have survived, + But what torments of grief you endured + From evils which never arrived! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0140" id="link2H_4_0140"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, + And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: + But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, + Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0141" id="link2H_4_0141"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her planted eye to-day controls, + Is in the morrow most at home, + And sternly calls to being souls + That curse her when they come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0142" id="link2H_4_0142"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOROSCOPE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ere he was born, the stars of fate + Plotted to make him rich and great: + When from the womb the babe was loosed, + The gate of gifts behind him closed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0143" id="link2H_4_0143"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POWER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cast the bantling on the rocks, + Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, + Wintered with the hawk and fox, + Power and speed be hands and feet. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0144" id="link2H_4_0144"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLIMACTERIC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not wiser for my age, + Nor skilful by my grief; + Life loiters at the book's first page,— + Ah! could we turn the leaf. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0145" id="link2H_4_0145"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HERI, CRAS, HODIE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, + To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: + Future or Past no richer secret folds, + O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0146" id="link2H_4_0146"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMORY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall + Shadows of the thoughts of day, + And thy fortunes, as they fall, + The bias of the will betray. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0147" id="link2H_4_0147"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love on his errand bound to go + Can swim the flood and wade through snow, + Where way is none, 't will creep and wind + And eat through Alps its home to find. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0148" id="link2H_4_0148"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SACRIFICE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though love repine, and reason chafe, + There came a voice without reply,— + ''T is man's perdition to be safe, + When for the truth he ought to die.' +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0149" id="link2H_4_0149"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PERICLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well and wisely said the Greek, + Be thou faithful, but not fond; + To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,— + The Furies wait beyond. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0150" id="link2H_4_0150"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CASELLA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Test of the poet is knowledge of love, + For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; + Never was poet, of late or of yore, + Who was not tremulous with love-lore. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0151" id="link2H_4_0151"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SHAKSPEARE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I see all human wits + Are measured but a few; + Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, + Lone as the blessed Jew. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0152" id="link2H_4_0152"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HAFIZ + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her passions the shy violet + From Hafiz never hides; + Love-longings of the raptured bird + The bird to him confides. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0153" id="link2H_4_0153"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE IN LEASTS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As sings the pine-tree in the wind, + So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; + Her strength and soul has laughing France + Shed in each drop of wine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Greek: ADAKRYN NEMONTAI AIONA] + + 'A New commandment,' said the smiling Muse, + 'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach';— + Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, + And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore + Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0154" id="link2H_4_0154"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSLATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0155" id="link2H_4_0155"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Never did sculptor's dream unfold + A form which marble doth not hold + In its white block; yet it therein shall find + Only the hand secure and bold + Which still obeys the mind. + So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, + The ill I shun, the good I claim; + I alas! not well alive, + Miss the aim whereto I strive. + Not love, nor beauty's pride, + Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, + If, whilst within thy heart abide + Both death and pity, my unequal skill + Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0156" id="link2H_4_0156"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI + + In Farsistan the violet spreads + Its leaves to the rival sky; + I ask how far is the Tigris flood, + And the vine that grows thereby? + + Except the amber morning wind, + Not one salutes me here; + There is no lover in all Bagdat + To offer the exile cheer. + + I know that thou, O morning wind! + O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, + And thou, heart-warming nightingale! + My father's orchard knowest. + + The merchant hath stuffs of price, + And gems from the sea-washed strand, + And princes offer me grace + To stay in the Syrian land; + + But what is gold <i>for</i>, but for gifts? + And dark, without love, is the day; + And all that I see in Bagdat + Is the Tigris to float me away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0157" id="link2H_4_0157"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM HAFIZ + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I said to heaven that glowed above, + O hide yon sun-filled zone, + Hide all the stars you boast; + For, in the world of love + And estimation true, + The heaped-up harvest of the moon + Is worth one barley-corn at most, + The Pleiads' sheaf but two. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If my darling should depart, + And search the skies for prouder friends, + God forbid my angry heart + In other love should seek amends. + + When the blue horizon's hoop + Me a little pinches here, + Instant to my grave I stoop, + And go find thee in the sphere. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0158" id="link2H_4_0158"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPITAPH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; + For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, + She laid a slab of marble on his head. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +They say, through patience, chalk + Becomes a ruby stone; + Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood + The chalk is crimson grown. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0159" id="link2H_4_0159"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRIENDSHIP + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls + Know the worth of Oman's pearls? + Give the gem which dims the moon + To the noblest, or to none. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, + Beauty sits and Music calls; + Where thy form and favor come, + All good creatures have their home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On prince or bride no diamond stone + Half so gracious ever shone, + As the light of enterprise + Beaming from a young man's eyes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0160" id="link2H_4_0160"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each spot where tulips prank their state + Has drunk the life-blood of the great; + The violets yon field which stain + Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art, + Show me the forward way, since thou art guide, + I put no faith in pilot or in chart, + Since they are transient, and thou dost abide. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0161" id="link2H_4_0161"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, + And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, + The appointed, and the unappointed day; + On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, + Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0162" id="link2H_4_0162"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM IBN JEMIN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;— + A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; + And the second, borrowed money,—though the smiling lender say + That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0163" id="link2H_4_0163"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FLUTE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM HILALI + + Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, + Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; + Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,— + If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0164" id="link2H_4_0164"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM HAFIZ + + Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, + Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0165" id="link2H_4_0165"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM ENWERI + + Not in their houses stand the stars, + But o'er the pinnacles of thine! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0166" id="link2H_4_0166"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO THE SHAH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FROM ENWERI + + From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, + And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0167" id="link2H_4_0167"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical + dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly + bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he + revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, + as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.] + + Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, + Nor head from foot can I discern, + Nor my heart from love of mine, + Nor the wine-cup from the wine. + All my doing, all my leaving, + Reaches not to my perceiving; + Lost in whirling spheres I rove, + And know only that I love. + + I am seeker of the stone, + Living gem of Solomon; + From the shore of souls arrived, + In the sea of sense I dived; + But what is land, or what is wave, + To me who only jewels crave? + Love is the air-fed fire intense, + And my heart the frankincense; + As the rich aloes flames, I glow, + Yet the censer cannot know. + I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; + Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + Ask not me, as Muftis can, + To recite the Alcoran; + Well I love the meaning sweet,— + I tread the book beneath my feet. + + Lo! the God's love blazes higher, + Till all difference expire. + What are Moslems? what are Giaours? + All are Love's, and all are ours. + I embrace the true believers, + But I reck not of deceivers. + Firm to Heaven my bosom clings, + Heedless of inferior things; + Down on earth there, underfoot, + What men chatter know I not. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0168" id="link2H_4_0168"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V — APPENDIX + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0169" id="link2H_4_0169"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE POET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + Right upward on the road of fame + With sounding steps the poet came; + Born and nourished in miracles, + His feet were shod with golden bells, + Or where he stepped the soil did peal + As if the dust were glass and steel. + The gallant child where'er he came + Threw to each fact a tuneful name. + The things whereon he cast his eyes + Could not the nations rebaptize, + Nor Time's snows hide the names he set, + Nor last posterity forget. + Yet every scroll whereon he wrote + In latent fire his secret thought, + Fell unregarded to the ground, + Unseen by such as stood around. + The pious wind took it away, + The reverent darkness hid the lay. + Methought like water-haunting birds + Divers or dippers were his words, + And idle clowns beside the mere + At the new vision gape and jeer. + But when the noisy scorn was past, + Emerge the wingèd words in haste. + New-bathed, new-trimmed, on healthy wing, + Right to the heaven they steer and sing. + + A Brother of the world, his song + Sounded like a tempest strong + Which tore from oaks their branches broad, + And stars from the ecliptic road. + Times wore he as his clothing-weeds, + He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. + As melts the iceberg in the seas, + As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, + As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, + The solid kingdoms like a dream + Resist in vain his motive strain, + They totter now and float amain. + For the Muse gave special charge + His learning should be deep and large, + And his training should not scant + The deepest lore of wealth or want: + His flesh should feel, his eyes should read + Every maxim of dreadful Need; + In its fulness he should taste + Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; + Full fed, but not intoxicated; + He should be loved; he should be hated; + A blooming child to children dear, + His heart should palpitate with fear. + + And well he loved to quit his home + And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam + To read new landscapes and old skies;— + But oh, to see his solar eyes + Like meteors which chose their way + And rived the dark like a new day! + Not lazy grazing on all they saw, + Each chimney-pot and cottage door, + Farm-gear and village picket-fence, + But, feeding on magnificence, + They bounded to the horizon's edge + And searched with the sun's privilege. + Landward they reached the mountains old + Where pastoral tribes their flocks infold, + Saw rivers run seaward by cities high + And the seas wash the low-hung sky; + Saw the endless rack of the firmament + And the sailing moon where the cloud was rent, + And through man and woman and sea and star + Saw the dance of Nature forward and far, + Through worlds and races and terms and times + Saw musical order and pairing rhymes. + + II + + The gods talk in the breath of the woods, + They talk in the shaken pine, + And fill the long reach of the old seashore + With dialogue divine; + And the poet who overhears + Some random word they say + Is the fated man of men + Whom the ages must obey: + One who having nectar drank + Into blissful orgies sank; + He takes no mark of night or day, + He cannot go, he cannot stay, + He would, yet would not, counsel keep, + But, like a walker in his sleep + With staring eye that seeth none, + Ridiculously up and down + Seeks how he may fitly tell + The heart-o'erlading miracle. + + Not yet, not yet, + Impatient friend,— + A little while attend; + Not yet I sing: but I must wait, + My hand upon the silent string, + Fully until the end. + I see the coming light, + I see the scattered gleams, + Aloft, beneath, on left and right + The stars' own ether beams; + These are but seeds of days, + Not yet a steadfast morn, + An intermittent blaze, + An embryo god unborn. + + How all things sparkle, + The dust is alive, + To the birth they arrive: + I snuff the breath of my morning afar, + I see the pale lustres condense to a star: + The fading colors fix, + The vanishing are seen, + And the world that shall be + Twins the world that has been. + I know the appointed hour, + I greet my office well, + Never faster, never slower + Revolves the fatal wheel! + The Fairest enchants me, + The Mighty commands me, + Saying, 'Stand in thy place; + Up and eastward turn thy face; + As mountains for the morning wait, + Coming early, coming late, + So thou attend the enriching Fate + Which none can stay, and none accelerate. + I am neither faint nor weary, + Fill thy will, O faultless heart! + Here from youth to age I tarry,— + Count it flight of bird or dart. + My heart at the heart of things + Heeds no longer lapse of time, + Rushing ages moult their wings, + Bathing in thy day sublime. + + The sun set, but set not his hope:— + Stars rose, his faith was earlier up: + Fixed on the enormous galaxy, + Deeper and older seemed his eye, + And matched his sufferance sublime + The taciturnity of Time. + + Beside his hut and shading oak, + Thus to himself the poet spoke, + 'I have supped to-night with gods, + I will not go under a wooden roof: + As I walked among the hills + In the love which Nature fills, + The great stars did not shine aloof, + They hurried down from their deep abodes + And hemmed me in their glittering troop. + + 'Divine Inviters! I accept + The courtesy ye have shown and kept + From ancient ages for the bard, + To modulate + With finer fate + A fortune harsh and hard. + With aim like yours + I watch your course, + Who never break your lawful dance + By error or intemperance. + O birds of ether without wings! + O heavenly ships without a sail! + O fire of fire! O best of things! + O mariners who never fail! + Sail swiftly through your amber vault, + An animated law, a presence to exalt.' + + Ah, happy if a sun or star + Could chain the wheel of Fortune's car, + And give to hold an even state, + Neither dejected nor elate, + That haply man upraised might keep + The height of Fancy's far-eyed steep. + In vain: the stars are glowing wheels, + Giddy with motion Nature reels, + Sun, moon, man, undulate and stream, + The mountains flow, the solids seem, + Change acts, reacts; back, forward hurled, + And pause were palsy to the world.— + The morn is come: the starry crowds + Are hid behind the thrice-piled clouds; + The new day lowers, and equal odds + Have changed not less the guest of gods; + Discrowned and timid, thoughtless, worn, + The child of genius sits forlorn: + Between two sleeps a short day's stealth, + 'Mid many ails a brittle health, + A cripple of God, half true, half formed, + And by great sparks Promethean warmed, + Constrained by impotence to adjourn + To infinite time his eager turn, + His lot of action at the urn. + He by false usage pinned about + No breath therein, no passage out, + Cast wishful glances at the stars + And wishful saw the Ocean stream:— + 'Merge me in the brute universe, + Or lift to a diviner dream!' + + Beside him sat enduring love, + Upon him noble eyes did rest, + Which, for the Genius that there strove. + The follies bore that it invest. + They spoke not, for their earnest sense + Outran the craft of eloquence. + + He whom God had thus preferred,— + To whom sweet angels ministered, + Saluted him each morn as brother, + And bragged his virtues to each other,— + Alas! how were they so beguiled, + And they so pure? He, foolish child, + A facile, reckless, wandering will, + Eager for good, not hating ill, + Thanked Nature for each stroke she dealt; + On his tense chords all strokes were felt, + The good, the bad with equal zeal, + He asked, he only asked, to feel. + Timid, self-pleasing, sensitive, + With Gods, with fools, content to live; + Bended to fops who bent to him; + Surface with surfaces did swim. + + 'Sorrow, sorrow!' the angels cried, + 'Is this dear Nature's manly pride? + Call hither thy mortal enemy, + Make him glad thy fall to see! + Yon waterflag, yon sighing osier, + A drop can shake, a breath can fan; + Maidens laugh and weep; Composure + Is the pudency of man,' + + Again by night the poet went + From the lighted halls + Beneath the darkling firmament + To the seashore, to the old seawalls, + Out shone a star beneath the cloud, + The constellation glittered soon,— + You have no lapse; so have ye glowed + But once in your dominion. + And yet, dear stars, I know ye shine + Only by needs and loves of mine; + Light-loving, light-asking life in me + Feeds those eternal lamps I see. + And I to whom your light has spoken, + I, pining to be one of you, + I fall, my faith is broken, + Ye scorn me from your deeps of blue. + Or if perchance, ye orbs of Fate, + Your ne'er averted glance + Beams with a will compassionate + On sons of time and chance, + Then clothe these hands with power + In just proportion, + Nor plant immense designs + Where equal means are none.' + + CHORUS OF SPIRITS + + Means, dear brother, ask them not; + Soul's desire is means enow, + Pure content is angel's lot, + Thine own theatre art thou. + + Gentler far than falls the snow + In the woodwalks still and low + Fell the lesson on his heart + And woke the fear lest angels part. + + POET + + I see your forms with deep content, + I know that ye are excellent, + But will ye stay? + I hear the rustle of wings, + Ye meditate what to say + Ere ye go to quit me for ever and aye. + + SPIRITS + + Brother, we are no phantom band; + Brother, accept this fatal hand. + Aches thine unbelieving heart + With the fear that we must part? + See, all we are rooted here + By one thought to one same sphere; + From thyself thou canst not flee,— + From thyself no more can we. + + POET + + Suns and stars their courses keep, + But not angels of the deep: + Day and night their turn observe, + But the day of day may swerve. + Is there warrant that the waves + Of thought in their mysterious caves + Will heap in me their highest tide, + In me therewith beatified? + Unsure the ebb and flood of thought, + The moon comes back,—the Spirit not. + + SPIRITS + + Brother, sweeter is the Law + Than all the grace Love ever saw; + We are its suppliants. By it, we + Draw the breath of Eternity; + Serve thou it not for daily bread,— + Serve it for pain and fear and need. + Love it, though it hide its light; + By love behold the sun at night. + If the Law should thee forget, + More enamoured serve it yet; + Though it hate thee, suffer long; + Put the Spirit in the wrong; + Brother, no decrepitude + Chills the limbs of Time; + As fleet his feet, his hands as good, + His vision as sublime: + On Nature's wheels there is no rust; + Nor less on man's enchanted dust + Beauty and Force alight. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0170" id="link2H_4_0170"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I + + There are beggars in Iran and Araby, + SAID was hungrier than all; + Hafiz said he was a fly + That came to every festival. + He came a pilgrim to the Mosque + On trail of camel and caravan, + Knew every temple and kiosk + Out from Mecca to Ispahan; + Northward he went to the snowy hills, + At court he sat in the grave Divan. + His music was the south-wind's sigh, + His lamp, the maiden's downcast eye, + And ever the spell of beauty came + And turned the drowsy world to flame. + By lake and stream and gleaming hall + And modest copse and the forest tall, + Where'er he went, the magic guide + Kept its place by the poet's side. + Said melted the days like cups of pearl, + Served high and low, the lord and the churl, + Loved harebells nodding on a rock, + A cabin hung with curling smoke, + Ring of axe or hum of wheel + Or gleam which use can paint on steel, + And huts and tents; nor loved he less + Stately lords in palaces, + Princely women hard to please, + Fenced by form and ceremony, + Decked by courtly rites and dress + And etiquette of gentilesse. + But when the mate of the snow and wind, + He left each civil scale behind: + Him wood-gods fed with honey wild + And of his memory beguiled. + He loved to watch and wake + When the wing of the south-wind whipt the lake + And the glassy surface in ripples brake + And fled in pretty frowns away + Like the flitting boreal lights, + Rippling roses in northern nights, + Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings + In which the sudden wind-god rings. + In caves and hollow trees he crept + And near the wolf and panther slept. + He came to the green ocean's brim + And saw the wheeling sea-birds skim, + Summer and winter, o'er the wave, + Like creatures of a skiey mould, + Impassible to heat or cold. + He stood before the tumbling main + With joy too tense for sober brain; + He shared the life of the element, + The tie of blood and home was rent: + As if in him the welkin walked, + The winds took flesh, the mountains talked, + And he the bard, a crystal soul + Sphered and concentric with the whole. + + II + + The Dervish whined to Said, + "Thou didst not tarry while I prayed. + Beware the fire that Eblis burned," + But Saadi coldly thus returned, + "Once with manlike love and fear + I gave thee for an hour my ear, + I kept the sun and stars at bay, + And love, for words thy tongue could say. + I cannot sell my heaven again + For all that rattles in thy brain." + + III + + Said Saadi, "When I stood before + Hassan the camel-driver's door, + I scorned the fame of Timour brave; + Timour, to Hassan, was a slave. + In every glance of Hassan's eye + I read great years of victory, + And I, who cower mean and small + In the frequent interval + When wisdom not with me resides, + Worship Toil's wisdom that abides. + I shunned his eyes, that faithful man's, + I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance." + + IV + + The civil world will much forgive + To bards who from its maxims live, + But if, grown bold, the poet dare + Bend his practice to his prayer + And following his mighty heart + Shame the times and live apart,— + <i>Vae solis!</i> I found this, + That of goods I could not miss + If I fell within the line, + Once a member, all was mine, + Houses, banquets, gardens, fountains, + Fortune's delectable mountains; + But if I would walk alone, + Was neither cloak nor crumb my own. + And thus the high Muse treated me, + Directly never greeted me, + But when she spread her dearest spells, + Feigned to speak to some one else. + I was free to overhear, + Or I might at will forbear; + Yet mark me well, that idle word + Thus at random overheard + Was the symphony of spheres, + And proverb of a thousand years, + The light wherewith all planets shone, + The livery all events put on, + It fell in rain, it grew in grain, + It put on flesh in friendly form, + Frowned in my foe and growled in storm, + It spoke in Tullius Cicero, + In Milton and in Angelo: + I travelled and found it at Rome; + Eastward it filled all Heathendom + And it lay on my hearth when I came home. + + V + + Mask thy wisdom with delight, + Toy with the bow, yet hit the white, + As Jelaleddin old and gray; + He seemed to bask, to dream and play + Without remoter hope or fear + Than still to entertain his ear + And pass the burning summer-time + In the palm-grove with a rhyme; + Heedless that each cunning word + Tribes and ages overheard: + Those idle catches told the laws + Holding Nature to her cause. + + God only knew how Saadi dined; + Roses he ate, and drank the wind; + He freelier breathed beside the pine, + In cities he was low and mean; + The mountain waters washed him clean + And by the sea-waves he was strong; + He heard their medicinal song, + Asked no physician but the wave, + No palace but his sea-beat cave. + + Saadi held the Muse in awe, + She was his mistress and his law; + A twelvemonth he could silence hold, + Nor ran to speak till she him told; + He felt the flame, the fanning wings, + Nor offered words till they were things, + Glad when the solid mountain swims + In music and uplifting hymns. + + Charmed from fagot and from steel, + Harvests grew upon his tongue, + Past and future must reveal + All their heart when Saadi sung; + Sun and moon must fall amain + Like sower's seeds into his brain, + There quickened to be born again. + + The free winds told him what they knew, + Discoursed of fortune as they blew; + Omens and signs that filled the air + To him authentic witness bare; + The birds brought auguries on their wings, + And carolled undeceiving things + Him to beckon, him to warn; + Well might then the poet scorn + To learn of scribe or courier + Things writ in vaster character; + And on his mind at dawn of day + Soft shadows of the evening lay. + + * * * + + Pale genius roves alone, + No scout can track his way, + None credits him till he have shown + His diamonds to the day. + + Not his the feaster's wine, + Nor land, nor gold, nor power, + By want and pain God screeneth him + Till his elected hour. + + Go, speed the stars of Thought + On to their shining goals:— + The sower scatters broad his seed, + The wheat thou strew'st be souls. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I grieve that better souls than mine + Docile read my measured line: + High destined youths and holy maids + Hallow these my orchard shades; + Environ me and me baptize + With light that streams from gracious eyes. + I dare not be beloved and known, + I ungrateful, I alone. + + Ever find me dim regards, + Love of ladies, love of bards, + Marked forbearance, compliments, + Tokens of benevolence. + What then, can I love myself? + Fame is profitless as pelf, + A good in Nature not allowed + They love me, as I love a cloud + Sailing falsely in the sphere, + Hated mist if it come near. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For thought, and not praise; + Thought is the wages + For which I sell days, + Will gladly sell ages + And willing grow old + Deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold, + Melting matter into dreams, + Panoramas which I saw + And whatever glows or seems + Into substance, into Law. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Fancy's gift + Can mountains lift; + The Muse can knit + What is past, what is done, + With the web that's just begun; + Making free with time and size, + Dwindles here, there magnifies, + Swells a rain-drop to a tun; + So to repeat + No word or feat + Crowds in a day the sum of ages, + And blushing Love outwits the sages. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Try the might the Muse affords + And the balm of thoughtful words; + Bring music to the desolate; + Hang roses on the stony fate. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But over all his crowning grace, + Wherefor thanks God his daily praise, + Is the purging of his eye + To see the people of the sky: + From blue mount and headland dim + Friendly hands stretch forth to him, + Him they beckon, him advise + Of heavenlier prosperities + And a more excelling grace + And a truer bosom-glow + Than the wine-fed feasters know. + They turn his heart from lovely maids, + And make the darlings of the earth + Swainish, coarse and nothing worth: + Teach him gladly to postpone + Pleasures to another stage + Beyond the scope of human age, + Freely as task at eve undone + Waits unblamed to-morrow's sun. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +By thoughts I lead + Bards to say what nations need; + What imports, what irks and what behooves, + Framed afar as Fates and Loves. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, + So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I framed his tongue to music, + I armed his hand with skill, + I moulded his face to beauty + And his heart the throne of Will. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For every God + Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For art, for music over-thrilled, + The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; + Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That book is good + Which puts me in a working mood. + Unless to Thought is added Will, + Apollo is an imbecile. + What parts, what gems, what colors shine,— + Ah, but I miss the grand design. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Like vaulters in a circus round + Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Genius made his cabin wide, + And Love led Gods therein to bide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The atom displaces all atoms beside, + And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem + The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He could condense cerulean ether + Into the very best sole-leather. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, + In mercy, on one little head. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have no brothers and no peers, + And the dearest interferes: + When I would spend a lonely day, + Sun and moon are in my way. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The brook sings on, but sings in vain + Wanting the echo in my brain. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He planted where the deluge ploughed. + His hired hands were wind and cloud; + His eyes detect the Gods concealed + In the hummock of the field. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For what need I of book or priest, + Or sibyl from the mummied East, + When every star is Bethlehem star? + I count as many as there are + Cinquefoils or violets in the grass, + So many saints and saviors, + So many high behaviors + Salute the bard who is alive + And only sees what he doth give. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Coin the day-dawn into lines + In which its proper splendor shines; + Coin the moonlight into verse + Which all its marvel shall rehearse, + Chasing with words fast-flowing things; nor try + To plant thy shrivelled pedantry + On the shoulders of the sky. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! + A better voice peals through my song. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, + A bolder foot is still rewarded. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +His instant thought a poet spoke, + And filled the age his fame; + An inch of ground the lightning strook + But lit the sky with flame. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; + And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Asmodean feat is mine, + To spin my sand-heap into twine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue, + But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0171" id="link2H_4_0171"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0172" id="link2H_4_0172"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NATURE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The patient Pan, + Drunken with nectar, + Sleeps or feigns slumber, + Drowsily humming + Music to the march of time. + This poor tooting, creaking cricket, + Pan, half asleep, rolling over + His great body in the grass, + Tooting, creaking, + Feigns to sleep, sleeping never; + 'T is his manner, + Well he knows his own affair, + Piling mountain chains of phlegm + On the nervous brain of man, + As he holds down central fires + Under Alps and Andes cold; + Haply else we could not live, + Life would be too wild an ode. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Come search the wood for flowers,— + Wild tea and wild pea, + Grapevine and succory, + Coreopsis + And liatris, + Flaunting in their bowers; + Grass with green flag half-mast high, + Succory to match the sky, + Columbine with horn of honey, + Scented fern and agrimony; + Forest full of essences + Fit for fairy presences, + Peppermint and sassafras, + Sweet fern, mint and vernal grass, + Panax, black birch, sugar maple, + Sweet and scent for Dian's table, + Elder-blow, sarsaparilla, + Wild rose, lily, dry vanilla,— + Spices in the plants that run + To bring their first fruits to the sun. + Earliest heats that follow frore + Nervèd leaf of hellebore, + Sweet willow, checkerberry red, + With its savory leaf for bread. + Silver birch and black + With the selfsame spice + Found in polygala root and rind, + Sassafras, fern, benzöine, + Mouse-ear, cowslip, wintergreen, + Which by aroma may compel + The frost to spare, what scents so well. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Where the fungus broad and red + Lifts its head, + Like poisoned loaf of elfin bread, + Where the aster grew + With the social goldenrod, + In a chapel, which the dew + Made beautiful for God:— + O what would Nature say? + She spared no speech to-day: + The fungus and the bulrush spoke, + Answered the pine-tree and the oak, + The wizard South blew down the glen, + Filled the straits and filled the wide, + Each maple leaf turned up its silver side. + All things shine in his smoky ray, + And all we see are pictures high; + Many a high hillside, + While oaks of pride + Climb to their tops, + And boys run out upon their leafy ropes. + The maple street + In the houseless wood, + Voices followed after, + Every shrub and grape leaf + Rang with fairy laughter. + I have heard them fall + Like the strain of all + King Oberon's minstrelsy. + Would hear the everlasting + And know the only strong? + You must worship fasting, + You must listen long. + Words of the air + Which birds of the air + Carry aloft, below, around, + To the isles of the deep, + To the snow-capped steep, + To the thundercloud. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For Nature, true and like in every place, + Will hint her secret in a garden patch, + Or in lone corners of a doleful heath, + As in the Andes watched by fleets at sea, + Or the sky-piercing horns of Himmaleh; + And, when I would recall the scenes I dreamed + On Adirondac steeps, I know + Small need have I of Turner or Daguerre, + Assured to find the token once again + In silver lakes that unexhausted gleam + And peaceful woods beside my cottage door. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What all the books of ages paint, I have. + What prayers and dreams of youthful genius feign, + I daily dwell in, and am not so blind + But I can see the elastic tent of day + Belike has wider hospitality + Than my few needs exhaust, and bids me read + The quaint devices on its mornings gay. + Yet Nature will not be in full possessed, + And they who truliest love her, heralds are + And harbingers of a majestic race, + Who, having more absorbed, more largely yield, + And walk on earth as the sun walks in the sphere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But never yet the man was found + Who could the mystery expound, + Though Adam, born when oaks were young, + Endured, the Bible says, as long; + But when at last the patriarch died + The Gordian noose was still untied. + He left, though goodly centuries old, + Meek Nature's secret still untold. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Atom from atom yawns as far + As moon from earth, or star from star. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + To deck the morning of the year, + Why tinge thy lustres jubilant + With forecast or with fear? + + Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, + Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin + To use my land to put his rainbows in. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, + And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What central flowing forces, say, + Make up thy splendor, matchless day? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more; + In her hundred-gated Thebes every chamber was a door, + A door to something grander,—loftier walls, and vaster floor. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She paints with white and red the moors + To draw the nations out of doors. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A score of airy miles will smooth + Rough Monadnoc to a gem. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0173" id="link2H_4_0173"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EARTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar + Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0174" id="link2H_4_0174"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HEAVENS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wisp and meteor nightly falling, + But the Stars of God remain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0175" id="link2H_4_0175"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSITION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See yonder leafless trees against the sky, + How they diffuse themselves into the air, + And, ever subdividing, separate + Limbs into branches, branches into twigs. + As if they loved the element, and hasted + To dissipate their being into it. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Parks and ponds are good by day; + I do not delight + In black acres of the night, + Nor my unseasoned step disturbs + The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In Walden wood the chickadee + Runs round the pine and maple tree + Intent on insect slaughter: + O tufted entomologist! + Devour as many as you list, + Then drink in Walden water. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The low December vault in June be lifted high, + And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0176" id="link2H_4_0176"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GARDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Many things the garden shows, + And pleased I stray + From tree to tree + Watching the white pear-bloom, + Bee-infested quince or plum. + I could walk days, years, away + Till the slow ripening, secular tree + Had reached its fruiting-time, + Nor think it long. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Solar insect on the wing + In the garden murmuring, + Soothing with thy summer horn + Swains by winter pinched and worn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0177" id="link2H_4_0177"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIRDS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Darlings of children and of bard, + Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, + All of worth and beauty set + Gems in Nature's cabinet; + These the fables she esteems + Reality most like to dreams. + Welcome back, you little nations, + Far-travelled in the south plantations; + Bring your music and rhythmic flight, + Your colors for our eyes' delight: + Freely nestle in our roof, + Weave your chamber weatherproof; + And your enchanting manners bring + And your autumnal gathering. + Exchange in conclave general + Greetings kind to each and all, + Conscious each of duty done + And unstainèd as the sun. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0178" id="link2H_4_0178"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WATER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The water understands + Civilization well; + It wets my foot, but prettily + It chills my life, but wittily, + It is not disconcerted, + It is not broken-hearted: + Well used, it decketh joy, + Adorneth, doubleth joy: + Ill used, it will destroy, + In perfect time and measure + With a face of golden pleasure + Elegantly destroy. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0179" id="link2H_4_0179"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NAHANT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All day the waves assailed the rock, + I heard no church-bell chime, + The sea-beat scorns the minster clock + And breaks the glass of Time. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0180" id="link2H_4_0180"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUNRISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Would you know what joy is hid + In our green Musketaquid, + And for travelled eyes what charms + Draw us to these meadow farms, + Come and I will show you all + Makes each day a festival. + Stand upon this pasture hill, + Face the eastern star until + The slow eye of heaven shall show + The world above, the world below. + + Behold the miracle! + Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad + And stood beneath the firmament, + A watchman in a dark gray tent, + Waiting till God create the earth,— + Behold the new majestic birth! + The mottled clouds, like scraps of wool, + Steeped in the light are beautiful. + What majestic stillness broods + Over these colored solitudes. + Sleeps the vast East in pleasèd peace, + Up the far mountain walls the streams increase + Inundating the heaven + With spouting streams and waves of light + Which round the floating isles unite:— + See the world below + Baptized with the pure element, + A clear and glorious firmament + Touched with life by every beam. + I share the good with every flower, + I drink the nectar of the hour:— + This is not the ancient earth + Whereof old chronicles relate + The tragic tales of crime and fate; + But rather, like its beads of dew + And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, + An exhalation of the time. + + * * * +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0181" id="link2H_4_0181"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NIGHT IN JUNE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I left my dreary page and sallied forth, + Received the fair inscriptions of the night; + The moon was making amber of the world, + Glittered with silver every cottage pane, + The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom. + The meadows broad + From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers + Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies + Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court + In fairy groves of herds-grass. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He lives not who can refuse me; + All my force saith, Come and use me: + A gleam of sun, a summer rain, + And all the zone is green again. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, + Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, + As if on such stern forms and haunts + A wintry storm more fitly fell. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + And split to flakes the crystal ledges. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0182" id="link2H_4_0182"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAIA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Illusion works impenetrable, + Weaving webs innumerable, + Her gay pictures never fail, + Crowds each on other, veil on veil, + Charmer who will be believed + By man who thirsts to be deceived. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Illusions like the tints of pearl, + Or changing colors of the sky, + Or ribbons of a dancing girl + That mend her beauty to the eye. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth + And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon + To share the sunshine that so spicy is. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, + Gropes for columns strong as he; + When his ringlets grew and curled, + Groped for axle of the world. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But Nature whistled with all her winds, + Did as she pleased and went her way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0183" id="link2H_4_0183"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIFE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A train of gay and clouded days + Dappled with joy and grief and praise, + Beauty to fire us, saints to save, + Escort us to a little grave. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, + For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, + So guilt not traverses his tender will. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Around the man who seeks a noble end, + Not angels but divinities attend. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, + The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +This shining moment is an edifice + Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Roomy Eternity + Casts her schemes rarely, + And an aeon allows + For each quality and part + Of the multitudinous + And many-chambered heart. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The beggar begs by God's command, + And gifts awake when givers sleep, + Swords cannot cut the giving hand + Nor stab the love that orphans keep. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come + Lemurs and Lars. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Such another peerless queen + Only could her mirror show. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Easy to match what others do, + Perform the feat as well as they; + Hard to out-do the brave, the true, + And find a loftier way: + The school decays, the learning spoils + Because of the sons of wine; + How snatch the stripling from their toils?— + Yet can one ray of truth divine + The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Of all wit's uses the main one + Is to live well with who has none. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The tongue is prone to lose the way, + Not so the pen, for in a letter + We have not better things to say, + But surely say them better. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She walked in flowers around my field + As June herself around the sphere. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Friends to me are frozen wine; + I wait the sun on them should shine. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +You shall not love me for what daily spends; + You shall not know me in the noisy street, + Where I, as others, follow petty ends; + Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; + Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean. + But love me then and only, when you know + Me for the channel of the rivers of God + From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To and fro the Genius flies, + A light which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head + And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. + Of her faults I take no note, + Fault and folly are not mine; + Comes the Genius,—all's forgot, + Replunged again into that upper sphere + He scatters wide and wild its lustres here. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Love + Asks nought his brother cannot give; + Asks nothing, but does all receive. + Love calls not to his aid events; + He to his wants can well suffice: + Asks not of others soft consents, + Nor kind occasion without eyes; + Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, + Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,— + Where he goes, goes before him Fate; + Whom he uniteth, God installs; + Instant and perfect his access + To the dear object of his thought, + Though foes and land and seas between + Himself and his love intervene. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The brave Empedocles, defying fools, + Pronounced the word that mortals hate to hear— + "I am divine, I am not mortal made; + I am superior to my human weeds." + Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; + Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; + That human part may be described and taught, + The other portion language cannot speak. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Tell men what they knew before; + Paint the prospect from their door. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Him strong Genius urged to roam, + Stronger Custom brought him home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That each should in his house abide. + Therefore was the world so wide. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Thou shalt make thy house + The temple of a nation's vows. + Spirits of a higher strain + Who sought thee once shall seek again. + I detected many a god + Forth already on the road, + Ancestors of beauty come + In thy breast to make a home. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The archangel Hope + Looks to the azure cope, + Waits through dark ages for the morn, + Defeated day by day, but unto victory born. + + As the drop feeds its fated flower, + As finds its Alp the snowy shower, + Child of the omnific Need, + Hurled into life to do a deed, + Man drinks the water, drinks the light. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, + To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; + I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken + Shall his own sorrow seem impertinent, + A thing that takes no more root in the world + Than doth the traveller's shadow on the rock. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +But if thou do thy best, + Without remission, without rest, + And invite the sunbeam, + And abhor to feign or seem + Even to those who thee should love + And thy behavior approve; + If thou go in thine own likeness, + Be it health, or be it sickness; + If thou go as thy father's son, + If thou wear no mask or lie, + Dealing purely and nakedly,— + + * * * +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ascending thorough just degrees + To a consummate holiness, + As angel blind to trespass done, + And bleaching all souls like the sun. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +From the stores of eldest matter, + The deep-eyed flame, obedient water, + Transparent air, all-feeding earth, + He took the flower of all their worth, + And, best with best in sweet consent, + Combined a new temperament. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0184" id="link2H_4_0184"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + REX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bard and mystic held me for their own, + I filled the dream of sad, poetic maids, + I took the friendly noble by the hand, + I was the trustee of the hand-cart man, + The brother of the fisher, porter, swain, + And these from the crowd's edge well pleased beheld + The service done to me as done to them. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +With the key of the secret he marches faster, + From strength to strength, and for night brings day; + While classes or tribes, too weak to master + The flowing conditions of life, give way. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0185" id="link2H_4_0185"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUUM CUIQUE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? + Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If curses be the wage of love, + Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, + Not to be named: + It is clear + Why the gods will not appear; + They are ashamed. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, + And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, + Sit still and Truth is near: + Suddenly it will uplift + Your eyelids to the sphere: + Wait a little, you shall see + The portraiture of things to be. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The rules to men made evident + By Him who built the day, + The columns of the firmament + Not firmer based than they. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! + Time hath his work to do and we have ours. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0186" id="link2H_4_0186"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In many forms we try + To utter God's infinity, + But the boundless hath no form, + And the Universal Friend + Doth as far transcend + An angel as a worm. + + The great Idea baffles wit, + Language falters under it, + It leaves the learned in the lurch; + Nor art, nor power, nor toil can find + The measure of the eternal Mind, + Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0187" id="link2H_4_0187"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GRACE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How much, preventing God, how much I owe + To the defences thou hast round me set; + Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,— + These scorned bondmen were my parapet. + I dare not peep over this parapet + To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, + The depths of sin to which I had descended, + Had not these me against myself defended. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0188" id="link2H_4_0188"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSIGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Power that by obedience grows, + Knowledge which its source not knows, + Wave which severs whom it bears + From the things which he compares, + Adding wings through things to range, + To his own blood harsh and strange. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0189" id="link2H_4_0189"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O what are heroes, prophets, men, + But pipes through which the breath of Pan doth blow + A momentary music. Being's tide + Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms + Live, robed with beauty, painted by the sun; + Their dust, pervaded by the nerves of God, + Throbs with an overmastering energy + Knowing and doing. Ebbs the tide, they lie + White hollow shells upon the desert shore, + But not the less the eternal wave rolls on + To animate new millions, and exhale + Races and planets, its enchanted foam. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0190" id="link2H_4_0190"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONADNOC FROM AFAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dark flower of Cheshire garden, + Red evening duly dyes + Thy sombre head with rosy hues + To fix far-gazing eyes. + Well the Planter knew how strongly + Works thy form on human thought; + I muse what secret purpose had he + To draw all fancies to this spot. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0191" id="link2H_4_0191"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEPTEMBER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the turbulent beauty + Of a gusty Autumn day, + Poet on a sunny headland + Sighed his soul away. + + Farms the sunny landscape dappled, + Swandown clouds dappled the farms, + Cattle lowed in mellow distance + Where far oaks outstretched their arms. + + Sudden gusts came full of meaning, + All too much to him they said, + Oh, south winds have long memories, + Of that be none afraid. + + I cannot tell rude listeners + Half the tell-tale South-wind said,— + 'T would bring the blushes of yon maples + To a man and to a maid. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0192" id="link2H_4_0192"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EROS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They put their finger on their lip, + The Powers above: + The seas their islands clip, + The moons in ocean dip, + They love, but name not love. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0193" id="link2H_4_0193"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OCTOBER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + October woods wherein + The boy's dream comes to pass, + And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, + And crowns him with a more than royal crown, + And unimagined splendor waits his steps. + The gazing urchin walks through tents of gold, + Through crimson chambers, porphyry and pearl, + Pavilion on pavilion, garlanded, + Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, + Color and sound, music to eye and ear, + Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0194" id="link2H_4_0194"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PETER'S FIELD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, + What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn?] + + That field by spirits bad and good, + By Hell and Heaven is haunted, + And every rood in the hemlock wood + I know is ground enchanted. + + [In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts: + I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts.] + + For in those lonely grounds the sun + Shines not as on the town, + In nearer arcs his journeys run, + And nearer stoops the moon. + + There in a moment I have seen + The buried Past arise; + The fields of Thessaly grew green, + Old gods forsook the skies. + + I cannot publish in my rhyme + What pranks the greenwood played; + It was the Carnival of time, + And Ages went or stayed. + + To me that spectral nook appeared + The mustering Day of Doom, + And round me swarmed in shadowy troop + Things past and things to come. + + The darkness haunteth me elsewhere; + There I am full of light; + In every whispering leaf I hear + More sense than sages write. + + Underwoods were full of pleasance, + All to each in kindness bend, + And every flower made obeisance + As a man unto his friend. + + Far seen, the river glides below, + Tossing one sparkle to the eyes: + I catch thy meaning, wizard wave; + The River of my Life replies. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0195" id="link2H_4_0195"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MUSIC + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let me go where'er I will, + I hear a sky-born music still: + It sounds from all things old, + It sounds from all things young, + From all that's fair, from all that's foul, + Peals out a cheerful song. + + It is not only in the rose, + It is not only in the bird, + Not only where the rainbow glows, + Nor in the song of woman heard, + But in the darkest, meanest things + There alway, alway something sings. + + 'T is not in the high stars alone, + Nor in the cup of budding flowers, + Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, + Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, + But in the mud and scum of things + There alway, alway something sings. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0196" id="link2H_4_0196"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WALK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Queen rejoices in her peers, + And wary Nature knows her own + By court and city, dale and down, + And like a lover volunteers, + And to her son will treasures more + And more to purpose freely pour + In one wood walk, than learned men + Can find with glass in ten times ten. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0197" id="link2H_4_0197"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COSMOS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, + Or who can date the morning. + The purple flaming of love? + + I saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, + And I can date the morning prime + And purple flame of love. + + Song breathed from all the forest, + The total air was fame; + It seemed the world was all torches + That suddenly caught the flame. + + * * * + + Is there never a retroscope mirror + In the realms and corners of space + That can give us a glimpse of the battle + And the soldiers face to face? + + Sit here on the basalt courses + Where twisted hills betray + The seat of the world-old Forces + Who wrestled here on a day. + + * * * + + When the purple flame shoots up, + And Love ascends his throne, + I cannot hear your songs, O birds, + For the witchery of my own. + + And every human heart + Still keeps that golden day + And rings the bells of jubilee + On its own First of May. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0198" id="link2H_4_0198"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MIRACLE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have trod this path a hundred times + With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. + I know each nest and web-worm's tent, + The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, + Maple and oak, the old Divan + Self-planted twice, like the banian. + I know not why I came again + Unless to learn it ten times ten. + To read the sense the woods impart + You must bring the throbbing heart. + Love is aye the counterforce,— + Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, + Newest knowledge, fiery thought, + Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. + Wandering yester morn the brake, + I reached this heath beside the lake, + And oh, the wonder of the power, + The deeper secret of the hour! + Nature, the supplement of man, + His hidden sense interpret can;— + What friend to friend cannot convey + Shall the dumb bird instructed say. + Passing yonder oak, I heard + Sharp accents of my woodland bird; + I watched the singer with delight,— + But mark what changed my joy to fright,— + When that bird sang, I gave the theme; + That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, + A brown wren was the Daniel + That pierced my trance its drift to tell, + Knew my quarrel, how and why, + Published it to lake and sky, + Told every word and syllable + In his flippant chirping babble, + All my wrath and all my shames, + Nay, God is witness, gave the names. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0199" id="link2H_4_0199"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WATERFALL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A patch of meadow upland + Reached by a mile of road, + Soothed by the voice of waters, + With birds and flowers bestowed. + + Hither I come for strength + Which well it can supply, + For Love draws might from terrene force + And potencies of sky. + + The tremulous battery Earth + Responds to the touch of man; + It thrills to the antipodes, + From Boston to Japan. + + The planets' child the planet knows + And to his joy replies; + To the lark's trill unfolds the rose, + Clouds flush their gayest dyes. + + When Ali prayed and loved + Where Syrian waters roll, + Upward the ninth heaven thrilled and moved; + At the tread of the jubilant soul. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0200" id="link2H_4_0200"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WALDEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In my garden three ways meet, + Thrice the spot is blest; + Hermit-thrush comes there to build, + Carrier-doves to nest. + + There broad-armed oaks, the copses' maze, + The cold sea-wind detain; + Here sultry Summer overstays + When Autumn chills the plain. + + Self-sown my stately garden grows; + The winds and wind-blown seed, + Cold April rain and colder snows + My hedges plant and feed. + + From mountains far and valleys near + The harvests sown to-day + Thrive in all weathers without fear,— + Wild planters, plant away! + + In cities high the careful crowds + Of woe-worn mortals darkling go, + But in these sunny solitudes + My quiet roses blow. + + Methought the sky looked scornful down + On all was base in man, + And airy tongues did taunt the town, + 'Achieve our peace who can!' + + What need I holier dew + Than Walden's haunted wave, + Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, + Steeped in each forest cave? + + [If Thought unlock her mysteries, + If Friendship on me smile, + I walk in marble galleries, + I talk with kings the while.] + + How drearily in College hall + The Doctor stretched the hours, + But in each pause we heard the call + Of robins out of doors. + + The air is wise, the wind thinks well, + And all through which it blows, + If plants or brain, if egg or shell, + Or bird or biped knows; + + And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed, + I heed how wears the day; + We must not halt while fiercely speed + The spans of life away. + + What boots it here of Thebes or Rome + Or lands of Eastern day? + In forests I am still at home + And there I cannot stray. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0201" id="link2H_4_0201"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ENCHANTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the deep heart of man a poet dwells + Who all the day of life his summer story tells; + Scatters on every eye dust of his spells, + Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells + Wins the believing child with wondrous tales; + Touches a cheek with colors of romance, + And crowds a history into a glance; + Gives beauty to the lake and fountain, + Spies oversea the fires of the mountain; + When thrushes ope their throat, 't is he that sings, + And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings. + The little Shakspeare in the maiden's heart + Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart; + Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed + And gives persuasion to a gentle deed. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0202" id="link2H_4_0202"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Six thankful weeks,—and let it be + A meter of prosperity,— + In my coat I bore this book, + And seldom therein could I look, + For I had too much to think, + Heaven and earth to eat and drink. + Is he hapless who can spare + In his plenty things so rare? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0203" id="link2H_4_0203"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RICHES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Have ye seen the caterpillar + Foully warking in his nest? + 'T is the poor man getting siller, + Without cleanness, without rest. + + Have ye seen the butterfly + In braw claithing drest? + 'T is the poor man gotten rich, + In rings and painted vest. + + The poor man crawls in web of rags + And sore bested with woes. + But when he flees on riches' wings, + He laugheth at his foes. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0204" id="link2H_4_0204"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PHILOSOPHER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Philosophers are lined with eyes within, + And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. + In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; + Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, + He feels it, introverts his learned eye + To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + + His mother died,—the only friend he had,— + Some tears escaped, but his philosophy + Couched like a cat sat watching close behind + And throttled all his passion. Is't not like + That devil-spider that devours her mate + Scarce freed from her embraces? +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0205" id="link2H_4_0205"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTELLECT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gravely it broods apart on joy, + And, truth to tell, amused by pain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0206" id="link2H_4_0206"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIMITS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who knows this or that? + Hark in the wall to the rat: + Since the world was, he has gnawed; + Of his wisdom, of his fraud + What dost thou know? + In the wretched little beast + Is life and heart, + Child and parent, + Not without relation + To fruitful field and sun and moon. + What art thou? His wicked eye + Is cruel to thy cruelty. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0207" id="link2H_4_0207"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; + So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0208" id="link2H_4_0208"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXILE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (AFTER TALIESSIN) + + The heavy blue chain + Of the boundless main + Didst thou, just man, endure. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have an arrow that will find its mark, + A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0209" id="link2H_4_0209"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI — POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1823-1834 +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0210" id="link2H_4_0210"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BELL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I love thy music, mellow bell, + I love thine iron chime, + To life or death, to heaven or hell, + Which calls the sons of Time. + + Thy voice upon the deep + The home-bound sea-boy hails, + It charms his cares to sleep, + It cheers him as he sails. + + To house of God and heavenly joys + Thy summons called our sires, + And good men thought thy sacred voice + Disarmed the thunder's fires. + + And soon thy music, sad death-bell, + Shall lift its notes once more, + And mix my requiem with the wind + That sweeps my native shore. + + 1823. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0211" id="link2H_4_0211"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THOUGHT + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not poor, but I am proud, + Of one inalienable right, + Above the envy of the crowd,— + Thought's holy light. + + Better it is than gems or gold, + And oh! it cannot die, + But thought will glow when the sun grows cold, + And mix with Deity. + + BOSTON, 1823. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0212" id="link2H_4_0212"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PRAYER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When success exalts thy lot, + God for thy virtue lays a plot: + And all thy life is for thy own, + Then for mankind's instruction shown; + And though thy knees were never bent, + To Heaven thy hourly prayers are sent, + And whether formed for good or ill, + Are registered and answered still. + + 1826 [?]. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I bear in youth the sad infirmities + That use to undo the limb and sense of age; + It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss + Which lit my onward way with bright presage, + And my unserviceable limbs forego. + The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, + On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, + And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. + Yet I think on them in the silent night, + Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, + And the firm soul does the pale train defy + Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. + Please God, I'll wrap me in mine innocence, + And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence. + + CAMBRIDGE, 1827. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly + Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, + God hath a select family of sons + Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone, + Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one + By constant service to, that inward law, + Is weaving the sublime proportions + Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, + The riches of a spotless memory, + The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got + By searching of a clear and loving eye + That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, + And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day + To seal the marriage of these minds with thine, + Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be + The salt of all the elements, world of the world. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0213" id="link2H_4_0213"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO-DAY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide + The resurrection of departed pride. + Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep, + Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep— + Late in the world,—too late perchance for fame, + Just late enough to reap abundant blame,— + I choose a novel theme, a bold abuse + Of critic charters, an unlaurelled Muse. + + Old mouldy men and books and names and lands + Disgust my reason and defile my hands. + I had as lief respect an ancient shoe, + As love old things <i>for age</i>, and hate the new. + I spurn the Past, my mind disdains its nod, + Nor kneels in homage to so mean a God. + I laugh at those who, while they gape and gaze, + The bald antiquity of China praise. + Youth is (whatever cynic tubs pretend) + The fault that boys and nations soonest mend. + + 1824. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0214" id="link2H_4_0214"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FAME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah Fate, cannot a man + Be wise without a beard? + East, West, from Beer to Dan, + Say, was it never heard + That wisdom might in youth be gotten, + Or wit be ripe before 't was rotten? + + He pays too high a price + For knowledge and for fame + Who sells his sinews to be wise, + His teeth and bones to buy a name, + And crawls through life a paralytic + To earn the praise of bard and critic. + + Were it not better done, + To dine and sleep through forty years; + Be loved by few; be feared by none; + Laugh life away; have wine for tears; + And take the mortal leap undaunted, + Content that all we asked was granted? + + But Fate will not permit + The seed of gods to die, + Nor suffer sense to win from wit + Its guerdon in the sky, + Nor let us hide, whate'er our pleasure, + The world's light underneath a measure. + + Go then, sad youth, and shine; + Go, sacrifice to Fame; + Put youth, joy, health upon the shrine, + And life to fan the flame; + Being for Seeming bravely barter + And die to Fame a happy martyr. + + 1824. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0215" id="link2H_4_0215"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SUMMONS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A sterner errand to the silken troop + Has quenched the uneasy blush that warmed my cheek; + I am commissioned in my day of joy + To leave my woods and streams and the sweet sloth + Of prayer and song that were my dear delight, + To leave the rudeness of my woodland life, + Sweet twilight walks and midnight solitude + And kind acquaintance with the morning stars + And the glad hey-day of my household hours, + The innocent mirth which sweetens daily bread, + Railing in love to those who rail again, + By mind's industry sharpening the love of life— + Books, Muses, Study, fireside, friends and love, + I loved ye with true love, so fare ye well! + + I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by + And the impatient years that trod on it + Taught me new lessons in the lore of life. + I've learned the sum of that sad history + All woman-born do know, that hoped-for days, + Days that come dancing on fraught with delights, + Dash our blown hopes as they limp heavily by. + But I, the bantling of a country Muse, + Abandon all those toys with speed to obey + The King whose meek ambassador I go. + + 1826. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0216" id="link2H_4_0216"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RIVER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And I behold once more + My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, + The same blue wonder that my infant eye + Admired, sage doubting whence the traveller came,— + Whence brought his sunny bubbles ere he washed + The fragrant flag-roots in my father's fields, + And where thereafter in the world he went. + Look, here he is, unaltered, save that now + He hath broke his banks and flooded all the vales + With his redundant waves. + Here is the rock where, yet a simple child, + I caught with bended pin my earliest fish, + Much triumphing,—and these the fields + Over whose flowers I chased the butterfly + A blooming hunter of a fairy fine. + And hark! where overhead the ancient crows + Hold their sour conversation in the sky:— + These are the same, but I am not the same, + But wiser than I was, and wise enough + Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost + Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb; + These trees and stones are audible to me, + These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, + I understand their faery syllables, + And all their sad significance. The wind, + That rustles down the well-known forest road— + It hath a sound more eloquent than speech. + The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind, + All of them utter sounds of 'monishment + And grave parental love. + They are not of our race, they seem to say, + And yet have knowledge of our moral race, + And somewhat of majestic sympathy, + Something of pity for the puny clay, + That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind. + I feel as I were welcome to these trees + After long months of weary wandering, + Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs; + They know me as their son, for side by side, + They were coeval with my ancestors, + Adorned with them my country's primitive times, + And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. + + CONCORD, June, 1827. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0217" id="link2H_4_0217"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GOOD HOPE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The cup of life is not so shallow + That we have drained the best, + That all the wine at once we swallow + And lees make all the rest. + + Maids of as soft a bloom shall marry + As Hymen yet hath blessed, + And fairer forms are in the quarry + Than Phidias released. + + 1827. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0218" id="link2H_4_0218"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LINES TO ELLEN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tell me, maiden, dost thou use + Thyself thro' Nature to diffuse? + All the angles of the coast + Were tenanted by thy sweet ghost, + Bore thy colors every flower, + Thine each leaf and berry bore; + All wore thy badges and thy favors + In their scent or in their savors, + Every moth with painted wing, + Every bird in carolling, + The wood-boughs with thy manners waved, + The rocks uphold thy name engraved, + The sod throbbed friendly to my feet, + And the sweet air with thee was sweet. + The saffron cloud that floated warm + Studied thy motion, took thy form, + And in his airy road benign + Recalled thy skill in bold design, + Or seemed to use his privilege + To gaze o'er the horizon's edge, + To search where now thy beauty glowed, + Or made what other purlieus proud. + + 1829. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0219" id="link2H_4_0219"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECURITY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though her eye seek other forms + And a glad delight below, + Yet the love the world that warms + Bids for me her bosom glow. + + She must love me till she find + Another heart as large and true. + Her soul is frank as the ocean wind, + And the world has only two. + + If Nature hold another heart + That knows a purer flame than me, + I too therein could challenge part + And learn of love a new degree. + + 1829. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dull uncertain brain, + But gifted yet to know + That God has cherubim who go + Singing an immortal strain, + Immortal here below. + I know the mighty bards, + I listen when they sing, + And now I know + The secret store + Which these explore + When they with torch of genius pierce + The tenfold clouds that cover + The riches of the universe + From God's adoring lover. + And if to me it is not given + To fetch one ingot thence + Of the unfading gold of Heaven + His merchants may dispense, + Yet well I know the royal mine, + And know the sparkle of its ore, + Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine— + Explored they teach us to explore. + + 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0220" id="link2H_4_0220"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why fear to die + And let thy body lie + Under the flowers of June, + Thy body food + For the ground-worms' brood + And thy grave smiled on by the visiting moon. + + Amid great Nature's halls + Girt in by mountain walls + And washed with waterfalls + It would please me to die, + Where every wind that swept my tomb + Goes loaded with a free perfume + Dealt out with a God's charity. + + I should like to die in sweets, + A hill's leaves for winding-sheets, + And the searching sun to see + That I am laid with decency. + And the commissioned wind to sing + His mighty psalm from fall to spring + And annual tunes commemorate + Of Nature's child the common fate. + + WILLIAMSTOWN, VERMONT, 1 June, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0221" id="link2H_4_0221"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A LETTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear brother, would you know the life, + Please God, that I would lead? + On the first wheels that quit this weary town + Over yon western bridges I would ride + And with a cheerful benison forsake + Each street and spire and roof, incontinent. + Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, + Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm, + Amid the mountain counties, Hants, Franklin, Berks, + Where down the rock ravine a river roars, + Even from a brook, and where old woods + Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground + With their centennial wrecks. + Find me a slope where I can feel the sun + And mark the rising of the early stars. + There will I bring my books,—my household gods, + The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell + In the sweet odor of her memory. + Then in the uncouth solitude unlock + My stock of art, plant dials in the grass, + Hang in the air a bright thermometer + And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun. + + CHARDON ST., BOSTON, 1831. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Day by day returns + The everlasting sun, + Replenishing material urns + With God's unspared donation; + But the day of day, + The orb within the mind, + Creating fair and good alway, + Shines not as once it shined. + + * * * + + Vast the realm of Being is, + In the waste one nook is his; + Whatsoever hap befalls + In his vision's narrow walls + He is here to testify. + + 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0222" id="link2H_4_0222"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HYMN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is in all the sons of men + A love that in the spirit dwells, + That panteth after things unseen, + And tidings of the future tells. + + And God hath built his altar here + To keep this fire of faith alive, + And sent his priests in holy fear + To speak the truth—for truth to strive. + + And hither come the pensive train + Of rich and poor, of young and old, + Of ardent youth untouched by pain, + Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold. + + They seek a friend to speak the word + Already trembling on their tongue, + To touch with prophet's hand the chord + Which God in human hearts hath strung. + + To speak the plain reproof of sin + That sounded in the soul before, + And bid you let the angels in + That knock at meek contrition's door. + + A friend to lift the curtain up + That hides from man the mortal goal, + And with glad thoughts of faith and hope + Surprise the exulting soul. + + Sole source of light and hope assured, + O touch thy servant's lips with power, + So shall he speak to us the word + Thyself dost give forever more. + + June, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0223" id="link2H_4_0223"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SELF-RELIANCE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henceforth, please God, forever I forego + The yoke of men's opinions. I will be + Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God. + I find him in the bottom of my heart, + I hear continually his voice therein. + + * * * + + The little needle always knows the North, + The little bird remembereth his note, + And this wise Seer within me never errs. + I never taught it what it teaches me; + I only follow, when I act aright. + + October 9, 1832. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And when I am entombed in my place, + Be it remembered of a single man, + He never, though he dearly loved his race, + For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship + Of minds that each can stand against the world + By its own meek and incorruptible will? +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The days pass over me + And I am still the same; + The aroma of my life is gone + With the flower with which it came. + + 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0224" id="link2H_4_0224"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN IN NAPLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are what we are made; each following day + Is the Creator of our human mould + Not less than was the first; the all-wise God + Gilds a few points in every several life, + And as each flower upon the fresh hillside, + And every colored petal of each flower, + Is sketched and dyed, each with a new design, + Its spot of purple, and its streak of brown, + So each man's life shall have its proper lights, + And a few joys, a few peculiar charms, + For him round in the melancholy hours + And reconcile him to the common days. + Not many men see beauty in the fogs + Of close low pine-woods in a river town; + Yet unto me not morn's magnificence, + Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve, + Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls + Of rich men blazing hospitable light, + Nor wit, nor eloquence,—no, nor even the song + Of any woman that is now alive,— + Hath such a soul, such divine influence, + Such resurrection of the happy past, + As is to me when I behold the morn + Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath + Peep the blue violets out of the black loam, + Pathetic silent poets that sing to me + Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife. + + March, 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0225" id="link2H_4_0225"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRITTEN AT ROME + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;— + Besides, you need not be alone; the soul + Shall have society of its own rank. + Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, + The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome, + Shall flock to you and tarry by your side, + And comfort you with their high company. + Virtue alone is sweet society, + It keeps the key to all heroic hearts, + And opens you a welcome in them all. + You must be like them if you desire them, + Scorn trifles and embrace a better aim + Than wine or sleep or praise; + Hunt knowledge as the lover wooes a maid, + And ever in the strife of your own thoughts + Obey the nobler impulse; that is Rome: + That shall command a senate to your side; + For there is no might in the universe + That can contend with love. It reigns forever. + Wait then, sad friend, wait in majestic peace + The hour of heaven. Generously trust + Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand + That until now has put his world in fee + To thee. He watches for thee still. His love + Broods over thee, and as God lives in heaven, + However long thou walkest solitary, + The hour of heaven shall come, the man appear. + + 1833. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0226" id="link2H_4_0226"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WEBSTER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1831 + + Let Webster's lofty face + Ever on thousands shine, + A beacon set that Freedom's race + Might gather omens from that radiant sign. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0227" id="link2H_4_0227"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1834 + + Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave + For living brows; ill fits them to receive: + And yet, if virtue abrogate the law, + One portrait—fact or fancy—we may draw; + A form which Nature cast in the heroic mould + Of them who rescued liberty of old; + He, when the rising storm of party roared, + Brought his great forehead to the council board, + There, while hot heads perplexed with fears the state, + Calm as the morn the manly patriot sate; + Seemed, when at last his clarion accents broke, + As if the conscience of the country spoke. + Not on its base Monadnoc surer stood, + Than he to common sense and common good: + No mimic; from his breast his counsel drew, + Believed the eloquent was aye the true; + He bridged the gulf from th' alway good and wise + To that within the vision of small eyes. + Self-centred; when he launched the genuine word + It shook or captivated all who heard, + Ran from his mouth to mountains and the sea, + And burned in noble hearts proverb and prophecy. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1854 + + Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? + He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, <i>For Sale</i>. + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0228" id="link2H_4_0228"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INDEX OF FIRST LINES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A dull uncertain brain + "A new commandment," said the smiling Muse + A patch of meadow upland + A queen rejoices in her peers + A ruddy drop of manly blood + A score of airy miles will smooth + A sterner errand to the silken troop + A subtle chain of countless rings + A train of gay and clouded days + Ah Fate, cannot a man + Ah, not to me those dreams belong! + All day the waves assailed the rock + Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too + Already blushes on thy cheek + And as the light divides the dark + And Ellen, when the graybeard years + And I behold once more + And when I am entombed in my place + Announced by all the trumpets of the sky + Around the man who seeks a noble end + Ascending thorough just degrees + Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' + As sings the pine-tree in the wind + As sunbeams stream through liberal space + As the drop feeds its fated flower + Atom from atom yawns as far + + Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly + Because I was content with these poor fields + Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Blooms the laurel which belongs + Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold + Bring me wine, but wine which never grew + Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint + Burly, dozing humble-bee + But God said + But if thou do thy best + But Nature whistled with all her winds + But never yet the man was found + But over all his crowning grace + By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave + By the rude bridge that arched the flood + By thoughts I lead + + Can rules or tutors educate + Cast the bantling on the rocks + Coin the day dawn into lines + + Dark flower of Cheshire garden + Darlings of children and of bard + Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring + Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days + Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more + Day by day returns + Day! hast thou two faces + Dear brother, would you know the life + Dearest, where thy shadow falls + Deep in the man sits fast his fate + + Each spot where tulips prank their state + Each the herald is who wrote + Easy to match what others do + Ere he was born, the stars of fate + Ever the Poet <i>from</i> the land + Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Every day brings a ship + Every thought is public + + Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well + Farewell, ye lofty spires + Flow, flow the waves hated + For art, for music over-thrilled + For every God + For Fancy's gift + For Genius made his cabin wide + For joy and beauty planted it + For Nature, true and like in every place + For thought, and not praise + For what need I of book or priest + Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread + Freedom all winged expands + Friends to me are frozen wine + From fall to spring, the russet acorn + From high to higher forces + From the stores of eldest matter + From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate + + Gifts of one who loved me + Give all to love + Give me truths + Give to barrows, trays and pans + Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower + Go speed the stars of Thought + Go thou to thy learned task + Gold and iron are good + Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home + Grace, Beauty and Caprice + Gravely it broods apart on joy + + Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Have ye seen the caterpillar + He could condense cerulean ether + He lives not who can refuse me + He planted where the deluge ploughed + He took the color of his vest + He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare + He who has no hands + Hear what British Merlin sung + Henceforth, please God, forever I forego + Her passions the shy violet + Her planted eye to-day controls + High was her heart, and yet was well inclined + Him strong Genius urged to roam + His instant thought a poet spoke + His tongue was framed to music + Hold of the Maker, not the Made + How much, preventing God, how much I owe + + I, Alphonso, live and learn + I am not poor but I am proud + I am not wiser for my age + I am the Muse who sung alway + I bear in youth and sad infirmities + I cannot spare water or wine + I do not count the hours I spend + I framed his tongue to music + I grieve that better souls than mine + I have an arrow that will find its mark + I have no brothers and no peers + I have trod this path a hundred times + I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea + I hung my verses in the wind + I left my dreary page and sallied forth + I like a church; I like a cowl + I love thy music, mellow bell + I mourn upon this battle-field + I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide + I reached the middle of the mount + I said to heaven that glowed above + I see all human wits + I serve you not, if you I follow + If bright the sun, he tarries + If curses be the wage of love + If I could put my woods in song + If my darling should depart + If the red slayer think he slays + Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave + Illusions like the tints of pearl + Illusion works impenetrable + In an age of fops and toys + In countless upward-striving waves + In Farsistan the violet spreads + In many forms we try + In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes + In my garden three ways meet + In the chamber, on the stairs + In the deep heart of man a poet dwells + In the suburb, in the town + In the turbulent beauty + In Walden wood the chickadee + It fell in the ancient periods + It is time to be old + + Knows he who tills this lonely field + + Let me go where'er I will + Let Webster's lofty face + Like vaulters in a circus round + Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown + Long I followed happy guides + Love asks nought his brother cannot give + Love on his errand bound to go + Love scatters oil + Low and mournful be the strain + + Man was made of social earth + Many things the garden shows + May be true what I had heard + Mine and yours + Mine are the night and morning + Mortal mixed of middle clay + + Nature centres into balls + Never did sculptor's dream unfold + Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall + No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low + Not in their houses stand the stars + + October woods wherein + O fair and stately maid, whose eyes + O pity that I pause! + O tenderly the haughty day + O well for the fortunate soul + O what are heroes, prophets, men + Of all wit's uses the main one + Of Merlin wise I learned a song + Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship + On a mound an Arab lay + On bravely through the sunshine and the showers + On prince or bride no diamond stone + On two days it steads not to run from thy grave + Once I wished I might rehearse + One musician is sure + Our eyeless bark sails free + Over his head were the maple buds + + Pale genius roves alone + Parks and ponds are good by day + Philosophers are lined with eyes within + Power that by obedience grows + Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + + Quit the hut, frequent the palace + + Right upward on the road of fame + Roomy Eternity + Roving, roving, as it seems + Ruby wine is drunk by knaves + + Samson stark at Dagon's knee + See yonder leafless trees against the sky + Seek not the spirit, if it hide + Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants + Set not thy foot on graves + She is gamesome and good + She paints with white and red the moors + She walked in flowers around my field + Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen + Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift + Six thankful weeks,—and let it be + Slighted Minerva's learnèd tongue + Soft and softlier hold me, friends! + Solar insect on the wing + Some of your hurts you have cured + Space is ample, east and west + Spin the ball! I reel, I burn + Such another peerless queen + Sudden gusts came full of meaning + + Tell me, maiden, dost thou use + Tell men what they knew before + Test of the poet is knowledge of love + Thanks to the morning light + That book is good + That each should in his house abide + That you are fair or wise is vain + The April winds are magical + The archangel Hope + The Asmodean feat is mine + The atom displaces all atoms beside + The bard and mystic held me for their own + The beggar begs by God's command + The brave Empedocles, defying fools + The brook sings on, but sings in vain + The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth + The cup of life is not so shallow + The days pass over me + The debt is paid + The gale that wrecked you on the sand + The green grass is bowing + The heavy blue chain + The living Heaven thy prayers respect + The lords of life, the lords of life + The low December vault in June be lifted high + Theme no poet gladly sung + The mountain and the squirrel + The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded + The patient Pan + The prosperous and beautiful + The rhyme of the poet + The rocky nook with hilltops three + The rules to men made evident + The sea is the road of the bold + The sense of the world is short + The solid, solid universe + The South-wind brings + The Sphinx is drowsy + The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin + The sun goes down, and with him takes + The sun set, but set not his hope + The tongue is prone to lose the way + The water understands + The wings of Time are black and white + The word of the Lord by night + The yesterday doth never smile + Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes + There are beggars in Iran and Araby + There is in all the sons of men + There is no great and no small + There is no architect + They brought me rubies from the mine + They put their finger on their lips + They say, through patience, chalk + Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + Think me not unkind and rude + This is he, who, felled by foes + This shining moment is an edifice + Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls + Thou shalt make thy house + Though her eyes seek other forms + Though loath to grieve + Though love repine and reason chafe + Thousand minstrels woke within me + Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down + Thy summer voice, Musketaquit + Thy trivial harp will never please + To and fro the Genius flies + To clothe the fiery thought + To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem + Trees in groves + True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet + Try the might the Muse affords + Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene + Two well-assorted travellers use + + Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art + + Venus, when her son was lost + + Was never form and never face + We are what we are made; each following day + We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends + We love the venerable house + Well and wisely said the Greek + What all the books of ages paint, I have + What care I, so they stand the same + What central flowing forces, say + When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + When I was born + When success exalts thy lot + When the pine tosses its cones + When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port + Who gave thee, O Beauty + Who knows this or that? 375. + Who saw the hid beginnings + Who shall tell what did befall + Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? + Why fear to die + Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year + Why should I keep holiday + Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? + Winters know + Wise and polite,—and if I drew + Wisp and meteor nightly falling + With beams December planets dart + With the key of the secret he marches faster + Would you know what joy is hid + + Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken + You shall not be overbold + You shall not love me for what daily spends + Your picture smiles as first it smiled + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0229" id="link2H_4_0229"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INDEX OF TITLES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal + divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the + subdivisions of long poems.] + + A.H. + [Greek: Adakryn nemontai Aiona] + Adirondacs, The + Alcuin, From + Ali Ben Abu Taleb, From + Alphonso of Castile + Amulet, The + Apology, The + April + Art + Artist + Astraea + + Bacchus + Beauty + Bell, The + Berrying + Birds + Blight + Boéce, Étienne de la + Bohemian Hymn, The + Borrowing + Boston + Boston Hymn, read in Music Hall, January 1, 1863 + Botanist + Brahma + + Caritas + Casella + Celestial Love, The + Channing, W.H., Ode inscribed to + Character + Chartist's Complaint, The + Circles + Climacteric + Compensation + Concord Hymn + Concord, Ode Sung in the Town Hall, July 4, 1857 + Cosmos + Culture + Cupido + + Daemonic Love, The + Day's Ration, The + Days + Destiny + Dirge + + Each and All + Earth, The + Earth-Song + ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + Ellen, To + Ellen, Lines to + Enchanter, The + Epitaph + Eros + Eva, To + Excelsior + Exile, The + Experience + + Fable + Fame + Fate + Flute, The + Forbearance + Forerunners + Forester + Fragments on Nature and Life + Fragments on the Poet and the Poetic Gift + Freedom + Friendship + + Garden, The + Garden, My + Gardener + Gifts + Give all to Love + Good-bye + Good Hope + Grace + Guy + + Hafiz + Hafiz, From + Hamatreya + Harp, The + Heavens, The + Heri, Cras, Hodie + Hermione + Heroism + Holidays + Horoscope + House, The + Humble-Bee, The + Hush! + Hymn + Hymn sung at the Second Church, Boston, at the Ordination of + Rev. Chandler Robbins + + Ibn Jemin, From + Illusions + Informing Spirit, The + In Memoriam + Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love + Initial Love, The + Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War + Insight + Intellect + + J.W., To + + Last Farewell, The + Letter, A + Letters + Life + Limits + Lines by Ellen Louise Tucker + Lines to Ellen + Love + Love and Thought + + Maia + Maiden Speech of the Aeolian Harp + Manners + MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + May-Day + Memory + Merlin + Merlin's Song + Merops + Miracle, The + Mithridates + Monadnoc + Monadnoc from afar + Mountain Grave, A + Music + Musketaquid + My Garden + + Nahant + Nature + Nature in Leasts + Nemesis + Night in June + Northman + Nun's Aspiration, The + + October + Ode, inscribed to W.H. Channing + Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857 + Ode to Beauty + Omar Khayyam, From + Orator + + Pan + Park, The + Past, The + Pericles + Peter's Field + Phi Beta Kappa Poem, From the + Philosopher + POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + Poet + Poet, The + Politics + Power + Prayer + Problem, The + Promise + Prudence + + QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + Rex + Rhea, To + Rhodora, The + Riches + River, The + Romany Girl, The + Rubies + + S.H. + Saadi + Sacrifice + Seashore + Security + September + Shah, To the + Shakspeare + Snow-Storm, The + Solution + Song of Nature + Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan + Sonnet of Michel Angelo Buonarotti + Sphinx, The + Spiritual Laws + Summons, The + Sunrise + Sursum Corda + "Suum Cuique" + + Terminus + Test, The + Thine Eyes still Shined + Thought + Threnody + Titmouse, The + To-Day + To Ellen at the South + To Ellen + To Eva + To J.W. + To Rhea + To the Shah + Transition + Translations + Two Rivers + + Una + Unity + Uriel + + Violet, The + Visit, The + Voluntaries + + Waldeinsamkeit + Walden + Walk, The + Water + Waterfall, The + Wealth + Webster + Woodnotes + World-Soul, The + Worship + Written at Rome, 1883 + Written in a Volume of Goethe + Written in Naples, March, 1883 + + Xenophanes +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <pre> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 12843-h.htm or 12843-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/8/4/12843/ + +Etext produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + Household Edition + +Author: Ralph Waldo Emerson + +Release Date: July 7, 2004 [EBook #12843] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +POEMS + +BY + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + +_HOUSEHOLD EDITION_ + + +1867, 1876, 1883, 1895, 1904 AND 1911 + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +In Mr. Cabot's prefatory note to the Riverside Edition of the Poems, +published the year after Mr. Emerson's death, he said:-- + +"This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS and +MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876, Mr. Emerson published a selection +from his Poems, adding six new ones and omitting many[1]. Of those +omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the expressed +wishes of many readers and lovers of them. Also some pieces never +before published are here given in an Appendix; on various grounds. +Some of them appear to have had Mr. Emerson's approval, but to have +been withheld because they were unfinished. These it seemed best not to +suppress, now that they can never receive their completion. Others, +mostly of an early date, remained unpublished, doubtless because of +their personal and private nature. Some of these seem to have an +autobiographic interest sufficient to justify their publication. Others +again, often mere fragments, have been admitted as characteristic, or +as expressing in poetic form thoughts found in the Essays. + + [1] _Selected Poems_: Little Classic Edition. + +"In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole, +preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the +opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of +Time. + +"As was stated in the preface to the first volume of this edition of +Mr. Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the Selected +Poems have not always been followed here, but in some cases preference +has been given to corrections made by him when he was in fuller +strength than at the time of the last revision. + +"A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of 'May-Day,' in the part +representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as +bringing them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + +In the preparation of the Riverside Edition of the _Poems_, Mr. Cabot +very considerately took the present editor into counsel (as +representing Mr. Emerson's family), who at that time in turn took +counsel with several persons of taste and mature judgment with regard +especially to the admission of poems hitherto unpublished and of +fragments that seemed interested and pleasing. Mr. Cabot and he were +entirely in accord with regard to the Riverside Edition. In the present +edition, the substance of the Riverside Edition has been preserved, +with hardly an exception, although some poems and fragments have been +added. None of the poems therein printed have been omitted. "The +House," which appeared in the first volume of _Poems_, and "Nemesis," +"Una," "Love and Thought" and "Merlin's Songs," from the _May-Day_ +volume, have been restored. To the few mottoes of the Essays, which Mr. +Emerson printed as "Elements" in _May-Day_, most of the others have +been added. Following Mr. Emerson's precedent of giving his brother +Edward's "Last Farewell" a place beside the poem in his memory, two +pleasing poems by Ellen Tucker, his first wife, which he published in +the _Dial_, have been placed with his own poems relating to her. The +publication in the last edition of some poems that Mr. Emerson had long +kept by him, but had never quite been ready to print, and of various +fragments on Poetry, Nature and Life, was not done without advice and +careful consideration, and then was felt to be perhaps a rash +experiment. The continued interest which has been shown in the author's +thought and methods and life--for these unfinished pieces contain much +autobiography--has made the present editor feel it justifiable to keep +almost all of these and to add a few. Their order has been slightly +altered. + +A few poems from the verse-books sufficiently complete to have a title +are printed in the Appendix for the first time: "Insight," "September," +"October," "Hymn" and "Riches." + +After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, +and printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of +them taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never +printed before. They are for the most part journals in verse covering +the period of his school-teaching, study for the ministry and exercise +of that office, his sickness, bereavement, travel abroad and return to +the new life. This sad period of probation is illuminated by the +episode of his first love. Not for their poetical merit, except in +flashes, but for the light they throw on the growth of his thought and +character are they included. + +In this volume the course of the Muse, as Emerson tells it, is pursued +with regard to his own poems. + + I hang my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults will find. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +March 12, 1904. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +POEMS + +GOOD-BYE +EACH AND ALL +THE PROBLEM +TO RHEA +THE VISIT +URIEL +THE WORLD-SOUL +THE SPHINX +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE +MITHRIDATES +TO J.W. +DESTINY +GUY +HAMATREYA +THE RHODORA +THE HUMBLE-BEE +BERRYING +THE SNOW-STORM +WOODNOTES I +WOODNOTES II +MONADNOC +FABLE +ODE +ASTRAEA +ETIENNE DE LA BOECE +COMPENSATION +FORBEARANCE +THE PARK +FORERUNNERS +SURSUM CORDA +ODE TO BEAUTY +GIVE ALL TO LOVE +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH +TO ELLEN +TO EVA +LINES +THE VIOLET +THE AMULET +THINE EYES STILL SHINED +EROS +HERMIONE +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + I. THE INITIAL LOVE + II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE +THE APOLOGY +MERLIN I +MERLIN II +BACCHUS +MEROPS +THE HOUSE +SAADI +HOLIDAYS +XENOPHANES +THE DAY'S RATION +BLIGHT +MUSKETAQUID +DIRGE +THRENODY +CONCORD HYMN + + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + +MAY-DAY +THE ADIRONDACS +BRAHMA +NEMESIS +FATE +FREEDOM +ODE +BOSTON HYMN +VOLUNTARIES +LOVE AND THOUGHT +UNA +BOSTON +LETTERS +RUBIES +MERLIN'S SONG +THE TEST +SOLUTION +HYMN +NATURE I +NATURE II +THE ROMANY GIRL +DAYS +MY GARDEN +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT +THE TITMOUSE +THE HARP +SEASHORE +SONG OF NATURE +TWO RIVERS +WALDEINSAMKEIT +TERMINUS +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION +APRIL +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP +CUPIDO +THE PAST +THE LAST FAREWELL +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + +EXPERIENCE +COMPENSATION +POLITICS +HEROISM +CHARACTER +CULTURE +FRIENDSHIP +SPIRITUAL LAWS +BEAUTY +MANNERS +ART +UNITY +WORSHIP +PRUDENCE +NATURE +THE INFORMING SPIRIT +CIRCLES +INTELLECT +GIFTS +PROMISE +CARITAS +POWER +WEALTH +ILLUSIONS + + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +QUATRAINS +TRANSLATIONS + + +APPENDIX + +THE POET +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + NATURE + LIFE +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN +GRACE +INSIGHT +PAN +MONADNOC FROM AFAR +SEPTEMBER +EROS +OCTOBER +PETER'S FIELD +MUSIC +THE WALK +COSMOS +THE MIRACLE +THE WATERFALL +WALDEN +THE ENCHANTER +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE +RICHES +PHILOSOPHER +INTELLECT +LIMITS +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR +THE EXILE + + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +THE BELL +THOUGHT +PRAYER +TO-DAY +FAME +THE SUMMONS +THE RIVER +GOOD HOPE +LINES TO ELLEN +SECURITY +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE +A LETTER +HYMN +SELF-RELIANCE +WRITTEN IN NAPLES +WRITTEN AT ROME +WEBSTER + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + * * * * * + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + + +The Emersons first appeared in the north of England, but Thomas, who +landed in Massachusetts in 1638, came from Hertfordshire. He built soon +after a house, sometimes railed the Saint's Rest, which still stands in +Ipswich on the slope of Heart-break Hill, close by Labour-in-vain Creek. +Ralph Waldo Emerson was the sixth in descent from him. He was born in +Boston, in Summer Street, May 25, 1803. He was the third son of William +Emerson, the minister of the First Church in Boston, whose father, +William Emerson, had been the patriotic minister of Concord at the +outbreak of the Revolution, and died a chaplain in the army. Ruth +Haskins, the mother of Ralph Waldo Emerson, was left a widow in 1811, +with a family of five little boys. The taste of these boys was +scholarly, and four of them went through the Latin School to Harvard +College, and graduated there. Their mother was a person of great +sweetness, dignity, and piety, bringing up her sons wisely and well in +very straitened circumstances, and loved by them. Her husband's +stepfather, Rev. Dr. Ripley of Concord, helped her, and constantly +invited the boys to the Old Manse, so that the woods and fields along +the Concord River were first a playground and then the background of the +dreams of their awakening imaginations. + +Born in the city, Emerson's young mind first found delight in poems and +classic prose, to which his instincts led him as naturally as another +boy's would to go fishing, but his vacations in the country supplemented +these by giving him great and increasing love of nature. In his early +poems classic imagery is woven into pictures of New England woodlands. +Even as a little boy he had the habit of attempting flights of verse, +stimulated by Milton, Pope, or Scott, and he and his mates took pleasure +in declaiming to each other in barns and attics. He was so full of +thoughts and fancies that he sought the pen instinctively, to jot them +down. + +At college Emerson did not shine as a scholar, though he won prizes for +essays and declamations, being especially unfitted for mathematical +studies, and enjoying the classics rather in a literary than grammatical +way. And yet it is doubtful whether any man in his class used his time +to better purpose with reference to his after life, for young Emerson's +instinct led him to wide reading of works, outside the curriculum, that +spoke directly to him. He had already formed the habit of writing in a +journal, not the facts but the thoughts and inspirations of the day; +often, also, good stories or poetical quotations, and scraps of his own +verse. + +On graduation from Harvard in the class of 1821, following the +traditions of his family, Emerson resolved to study to be a minister, +and meantime helped his older brother William in the support of the +family by teaching in a school for young ladies in Boston, that the +former had successfully established. The principal was twenty-one and +the assistant nineteen years of age. For school-teaching on the usual +lines Emerson was not fitted, and his youth and shyness prevented him +from imparting his best gifts to his scholars. Years later, when, in his +age, his old scholars assembled to greet him, he regretted that no hint +had been brought into the school of what at that very time "I was +writing every night in my chamber, my first thoughts on morals and the +beautiful laws of compensation, and of individual genius, which to +observe and illustrate have given sweetness to many years of my life." +Yet many scholars remembered his presence and teaching with pleasure and +gratitude, not only in Boston, but in Chelmsford and Roxbury, for while +his younger brothers were in college it was necessary that he should +help. In these years, as through all his youth, he was loved, spurred on +in his intellectual life, and keenly criticised by his aunt, Mary Moody +Emerson, an eager and wide reader, inspired by religious zeal, +high-minded, but eccentric. + +The health of the young teacher suffered from too ascetic a life, and +unmistakable danger-signals began to appear, fortunately heeded in time, +but disappointment and delay resulted, borne, however, with sense and +courage. His course at the Divinity School in Cambridge was much broken; +nevertheless, in October, 1826, he was "approbated to preach" by the +Middlesex Association of Ministers. A winter at the North at this time +threatened to prove fatal, so he was sent South by his helpful kinsman, +Rev. Samuel Ripley, and passed the winter in Florida with benefit, +working northward in the spring, preaching in the cities, and resumed +his studies at Cambridge. + +In 1829, Emerson was called by the Second or Old North Church in Boston +to become the associate pastor with Rev. Henry Ware, and soon after, +because of his senior's delicate health, was called on to assume the +full duty. Theological dogmas, such as the Unitarian Church of +Channing's day accepted, did not appeal to Emerson, nor did the +supernatural in religion in its ordinary acceptation interest him. The +omnipresence of spirit, the dignity of man, the daily miracle of the +universe, were what he taught, and while the older members of the +congregation may have been disquieted that he did not dwell on revealed +religion, his words reached the young people, stirred thought, and +awakened aspiration. At this time he lived with his mother and his young +wife (Ellen Tucker) in Chardon Street. For three years he ministered to +his people in Boston. Then having felt the shock of being obliged to +conform to church usage, as stated prayer when the spirit did not move, +and especially the administration of the Communion, he honestly laid his +troubles before his people, and proposed to them some modification of +this rite. While they considered his proposition, Emerson went into the +White Mountains to weigh his conflicting duties to his church and +conscience. He came down, bravely to meet the refusal of the church to +change the rite, and in a sermon preached in September, 1832, explained +his objections to it, and, because he could not honestly administer it, +resigned. + +He parted from his people in all kindness, but the wrench was felt. His +wife had recently died, he was ill himself, his life seemed to others +broken up. But meantime voices from far away had reached him. He sailed +for Europe, landed in Italy, saw cities, and art, and men, but would not +stay long. Of the dead, Michael Angelo appealed chiefly to him there; +Landor among the living. He soon passed northward, making little stay in +Paris, but sought out Carlyle, then hardly recognized, and living in the +lonely hills of the Scottish Border. There began a friendship which had +great influence on the lives of both men, and lasted through life. He +also visited Wordsworth. But the new life before him called him home. + +He landed at Boston within the year in good health and hope, and joined +his mother and youngest brother Charles in Newton. Frequent invitations +to preach still came, and were accepted, and he even was sounded as to +succeeding Dr. Dewey in the church at New Bedford; but, as he stipulated +for freedom from ceremonial, this came to nothing. + +In the autumn of 1834 he moved to Concord, living with his kinsman, Dr. +Ripley, at the Manse, but soon bought house and land on the Boston Road, +on the edge of the village towards Walden woods. Thither, in the autumn, +he brought his wife. Miss Lidian Jackson, of Plymouth, and this was +their home during the rest of their lives. + +The new life to which he had been called opened pleasantly and increased +in happiness and opportunity, except for the sadness of bereavements, +for, in the first few years, his brilliant brothers Edward and Charles +died, and soon afterward Waldo, his firstborn son, and later his mother. +Emerson had left traditional religion, the city, the Old World, behind, +and now went to Nature as his teacher, his inspiration. His first book, +"Nature," which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here, +and published in 1836. His practice during all his life in Concord was +to go alone to the woods almost daily, sometimes to wait there for +hours, and, when thus attuned, to receive the message to which he was to +give voice. Though it might be colored by him in transmission, he held +that the light was universal. + + "Ever the words of the Gods resound, + But the porches of man's ear + Seldom in this low life's round + Are unsealed that he may hear." + +But he resorted, also, to the books of those who had handed down the +oracles truly, and was quick to find the message destined for him. Men, +too, he studied eagerly, the humblest and the highest, regretting always +that the brand of the scholar on him often silenced the men of shop and +office where he came. He was everywhere a learner, expecting light from +the youngest and least educated visitor. The thoughts combined with the +flower of his reading were gradually grouped into lectures, and his main +occupation through life was reading these to who would hear, at first in +courses in Boston, but later all over the country, for the Lyceum sprang +up in New England in these years in every town, and spread westward to +the new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. His winters were spent +in these rough, but to him interesting journeys, for he loved to watch +the growth of the Republic in which he had faith, and his summers were +spent in study and writing. These lectures were later severely pruned +and revised, and the best of them gathered into seven volumes of essays +under different names between 1841 and 1876. The courses in Boston, +which at first were given in the Masonic Temple, were always well +attended by earnest and thoughtful people. The young, whether in years +or in spirit, were always and to the end his audience of the spoken or +written word. The freedom of the Lyceum platform pleased Emerson. He +found that people would hear on Wednesday with approval and +unsuspectingly doctrines from which on Sunday they felt officially +obliged to dissent. + +Mr. Lowell, in his essays, has spoken of these early lectures and what +they were worth to him and others suffering from the generous discontent +of youth with things as they were. Emerson used to say, "My strength and +my doom is to be solitary;" but to a retired scholar a wholesome offset +to this was the travelling and lecturing in cities and in raw frontier +towns, bringing him into touch with the people, and this he knew and +valued. + +In 1837 Emerson gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration in Cambridge, The +American Scholar, which increased his growing reputation, but the +following year his Address to the Senior Class at the Divinity School +brought out, even from the friendly Unitarians, severe strictures and +warnings against its dangerous doctrines. Of this heresy Emerson said: +"I deny personality to God because it is too little, not too much." He +really strove to elevate the idea of God. Yet those who were pained or +shocked by his teachings respected Emerson. His lectures were still in +demand; he was often asked to speak by literary societies at orthodox +colleges. He preached regularly at East Lexington until 1838, but +thereafter withdrew from the ministerial office. At this time the +progressive and spiritually minded young people used to meet for +discussion and help in Boston, among them George Ripley, Cyrus Bartol, +James Freeman Clarke, Alcott, Dr. Hedge, Margaret Fuller, and Elizabeth +Peabody. Perhaps from this gathering of friends, which Emerson attended, +came what is called the Transcendental Movement, two results of which +were the Brook Farm Community and the Dial magazine, in which last +Emerson took great interest, and was for the time an editor. Many of +these friends were frequent visitors in Concord. Alcott moved thither +after the breaking up of his school. Hawthorne also came to dwell there. +Henry Thoreau, a Concord youth, greatly interested Emerson; indeed, +became for a year or two a valued inmate of his home, and helped and +instructed him in the labors of the garden and little farm, which +gradually grew to ten acres, the chief interest of which for the owner +was his trees, which he loved and tended. Emerson helped introduce his +countrymen to the teachings of Carlyle, and edited his works here, where +they found more readers than at home. + +In 1847 Emerson was invited to read lectures in England, and remained +abroad a year, visiting France also in her troublous times. English +Traits was a result. Just before this journey he had collected and +published his poems. A later volume, called May Day, followed in 1867. +He had written verses from childhood, and to the purified expression of +poetry he, through life, eagerly aspired. He said, "I like my poems +best because it is not I who write them." In 1866 the degree of Doctor +of Laws was conferred on him by Harvard University, and he was chosen an +Overseer. In 1867 he again gave the Phi Beta Kappa oration, and in 1870 +and 1871 gave courses in Philosophy in the University Lectures at +Cambridge. + +Emerson was not merely a man of letters. He recognized and did the +private and public duties of the hour. He exercised a wide hospitality +to souls as well as bodies. Eager youths came to him for rules, and went +away with light. Reformers, wise and unwise, came to him, and were +kindly received. They were often disappointed that they could not +harness him to their partial and transient scheme. He said, My reforms +include theirs: I must go my way; help people by my strength, not by my +weakness. But if a storm threatened, he felt bound to appear and show +his colors. Against the crying evils of his time he worked bravely in +his own way. He wrote to President Van Buren against the wrong done to +the Cherokees, dared speak against the idolized Webster, when he +deserted the cause of Freedom, constantly spoke of the iniquity of +slavery, aided with speech and money the Free State cause in Kansas, +was at Phillips's side at the antislavery meeting in 1861 broken up by +the Boston mob, urged emancipation during the war. + +He enjoyed his Concord home and neighbors, served on the school +committee for years, did much for the Lyceum, and spoke on the town's +great occasions. He went to all town-meetings, oftener to listen and +admire than to speak, and always took pleasure and pride in the people. +In return he was respected and loved by them. + +Emerson's house was destroyed by fire in 1872, and the incident exposure +and fatigue did him harm. His many friends insisted on rebuilding his +house and sending him abroad to get well. He went up the Nile, and +revisited England, finding old and new friends, and, on his return, was +welcomed and escorted home by the people of Concord. After this time he +was unable to write. His old age was quiet and happy among his family +and friends. He died in April, 1882. + +EDWARD W. EMERSON. + +January, 1899. + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +POEMS + + * * * * * + + + +GOOD-BYE + +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: +Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. +Long through thy weary crowds I roam; +A river-ark on the ocean brine, +Long I've been tossed like the driven foam: +But now, proud world! I'm going home. + +Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; +To Grandeur with his wise grimace; +To upstart Wealth's averted eye; +To supple Office, low and high; +To crowded halls, to court and street; +To frozen hearts and hasting feet; +To those who go, and those who come; +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home. + +I am going to my own hearth-stone, +Bosomed in yon green hills alone,-- +secret nook in a pleasant land, +Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; +Where arches green, the livelong day, +Echo the blackbird's roundelay, +And vulgar feet have never trod +A spot that is sacred to thought and God. + +O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, +I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; +And when I am stretched beneath the pines, +Where the evening star so holy shines, +I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, +At the sophist schools and the learned clan; +For what are they all, in their high conceit, +When man in the bush with God may meet? + + + +EACH AND ALL + +Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown +Of thee from the hill-top looking down; +The heifer that lows in the upland farm, +Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; +The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, +Deems not that great Napoleon +Stops his horse, and lists with delight, +Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; +Nor knowest thou what argument +Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. +All are needed by each one; +Nothing is fair or good alone. +I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, +Singing at dawn on the alder bough; +I brought him home, in his nest, at even; +He sings the song, but it cheers not now, +For I did not bring home the river and sky;-- +He sang to my ear,--they sang to my eye. +The delicate shells lay on the shore; +The bubbles of the latest wave +Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, +And the bellowing of the savage sea +Greeted their safe escape to me. +I wiped away the weeds and foam, +I fetched my sea-born treasures home; +But the poor, unsightly, noisome things +Had left their beauty on the shore +With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. +The lover watched his graceful maid, +As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, +Nor knew her beauty's best attire +Was woven still by the snow-white choir. +At last she came to his hermitage, +Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;-- +The gay enchantment was undone, +A gentle wife, but fairy none. +Then I said, 'I covet truth; +Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; +I leave it behind with the games of youth:'-- +As I spoke, beneath my feet +The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, +Running over the club-moss burrs; +I inhaled the violet's breath; +Around me stood the oaks and firs; +Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; +Over me soared the eternal sky. +Full of light and of deity; +Again I saw, again I heard, +The rolling river, the morning bird;-- +Beauty through my senses stole; +I yielded myself to the perfect whole. + + + +THE PROBLEM + +I like a church; I like a cowl; +I love a prophet of the soul; +And on my heart monastic aisles +Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles +Yet not for all his faith can see +Would I that cowled churchman be. + +Why should the vest on him allure, +Which I could not on me endure? + +Not from a vain or shallow thought +His awful Jove young Phidias brought; +Never from lips of cunning fell +The thrilling Delphic oracle; +Out from the heart of nature rolled +The burdens of the Bible old; +The litanies of nations came, +Like the volcano's tongue of flame, +Up from the burning core below,-- +The canticles of love and woe: +The hand that rounded Peter's dome +And groined the aisles of Christian Rome +Wrought in a sad sincerity; +Himself from God he could not free; +He builded better than he knew;-- +The conscious stone to beauty grew. + +Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest +Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? +Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, +Painting with morn each annual cell? +Or how the sacred pine-tree adds +To her old leaves new myriads? +Such and so grew these holy piles, +Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. +Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, +As the best gem upon her zone, +And Morning opes with haste her lids +To gaze upon the Pyramids; +O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, +As on its friends, with kindred eye; +For out of Thought's interior sphere +These wonders rose to upper air; +And Nature gladly gave them place, +Adopted them into her race, +And granted them an equal date +With Andes and with Ararat. + +These temples grew as grows the grass; +Art might obey, but not surpass. +The passive Master lent his hand +To the vast soul that o'er him planned; +And the same power that reared the shrine +Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. +Ever the fiery Pentecost +Girds with one flame the countless host, +Trances the heart through chanting choirs, +And through the priest the mind inspires. +The word unto the prophet spoken +Was writ on tables yet unbroken; +The word by seers or sibyls told, +In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, +Still floats upon the morning wind, +Still whispers to the willing mind. +One accent of the Holy Ghost +The heedless world hath never lost. +I know what say the fathers wise,-- +The Book itself before me lies, +Old _Chrysostom_, best Augustine, +And he who blent both in his line, +The younger _Golden Lips_ or mines, +Taylor, the Shakspeare of divines. +His words are music in my ear, +I see his cowled portrait dear; +And yet, for all his faith could see, +I would not the good bishop be. + + + +TO RHEA + +Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes, +Not with flatteries, but truths, +Which tarnish not, but purify +To light which dims the morning's eye. +I have come from the spring-woods, +From the fragrant solitudes;-- +Listen what the poplar-tree +And murmuring waters counselled me. + +If with love thy heart has burned; +If thy love is unreturned; +Hide thy grief within thy breast, +Though it tear thee unexpressed; +For when love has once departed +From the eyes of the false-hearted, +And one by one has torn off quite +The bandages of purple light; +Though thou wert the loveliest +Form the soul had ever dressed, +Thou shalt seem, in each reply, +A vixen to his altered eye; +Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, +Thy praying lute will seem to scold; +Though thou kept the straightest road, +Yet thou errest far and broad. + +But thou shalt do as do the gods +In their cloudless periods; +For of this lore be thou sure,-- +Though thou forget, the gods, secure, +Forget never their command, +But make the statute of this land. +As they lead, so follow all, +Ever have done, ever shall. +Warning to the blind and deaf, +'T is written on the iron leaf, +_Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup_ +_Loveth downward, and not up;_ +He who loves, of gods or men, +Shall not by the same be loved again; +His sweetheart's idolatry +Falls, in turn, a new degree. +When a god is once beguiled +By beauty of a mortal child +And by her radiant youth delighted, +He is not fooled, but warily knoweth +His love shall never be requited. +And thus the wise Immortal doeth,-- +'T is his study and delight +To bless that creature day and night; +From all evils to defend her; +In her lap to pour all splendor; +To ransack earth for riches rare, +And fetch her stars to deck her hair: +He mixes music with her thoughts, +And saddens her with heavenly doubts: +All grace, all good his great heart knows, +Profuse in love, the king bestows, +Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air! +This monument of my despair +Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair. +Not for a private good, +But I, from my beatitude, +Albeit scorned as none was scorned, +Adorn her as was none adorned. +I make this maiden an ensample +To Nature, through her kingdoms ample, +Whereby to model newer races, +Statelier forms and fairer faces; +To carry man to new degrees +Of power and of comeliness. +These presents be the hostages +Which I pawn for my release. +See to thyself, O Universe! +Thou art better, and not worse.'-- +And the god, having given all, +Is freed forever from his thrall. + + + +THE VISIT + +Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' +Devastator of the day! +Know, each substance and relation, +Thorough nature's operation, +Hath its unit, bound and metre; +And every new compound +Is some product and repeater,-- +Product of the earlier found. +But the unit of the visit, +The encounter of the wise,-- +Say, what other metre is it +Than the meeting of the eyes? +Nature poureth into nature +Through the channels of that feature, +Riding on the ray of sight, +Fleeter far than whirlwinds go, +Or for service, or delight, +Hearts to hearts their meaning show, +Sum their long experience, +And import intelligence. +Single look has drained the breast; +Single moment years confessed. +The duration of a glance +Is the term of convenance, +And, though thy rede be church or state, +Frugal multiples of that. +Speeding Saturn cannot halt; +Linger,--thou shalt rue the fault: +If Love his moment overstay, +Hatred's swift repulsions play. + + + +URIEL + +It fell in the ancient periods + Which the brooding soul surveys, +Or ever the wild Time coined itself + Into calendar months and days. + +This was the lapse of Uriel, +Which in Paradise befell. +Once, among the Pleiads walking, +Seyd overheard the young gods talking; +And the treason, too long pent, +To his ears was evident. +The young deities discussed +Laws of form, and metre just, +Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, +What subsisteth, and what seems. +One, with low tones that decide, +And doubt and reverend use defied, +With a look that solved the sphere, +And stirred the devils everywhere, +Gave his sentiment divine +Against the being of a line. +'Line in nature is not found; +Unit and universe are round; +In vain produced, all rays return; +Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' +As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, +A shudder ran around the sky; +The stern old war-gods shook their heads, +The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; +Seemed to the holy festival +The rash word boded ill to all; +The balance-beam of Fate was bent; +The bounds of good and ill were rent; +Strong Hades could not keep his own, +But all slid to confusion. + +A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell +On the beauty of Uriel; +In heaven once eminent, the god +Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; +Whether doomed to long gyration +In the sea of generation, +Or by knowledge grown too bright +To hit the nerve of feebler sight. +Straightway, a forgetting wind +Stole over the celestial kind, +And their lips the secret kept, +If in ashes the fire-seed slept. +But now and then, truth-speaking things +Shamed the angels' veiling wings; +And, shrilling from the solar course, +Or from fruit of chemic force, +Procession of a soul in matter, +Or the speeding change of water, +Or out of the good of evil born, +Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, +And a blush tinged the upper sky, +And the gods shook, they knew not why. + + + +THE WORLD-SOUL + +Thanks to the morning light, + Thanks to the foaming sea, +To the uplands of New Hampshire, + To the green-haired forest free; +Thanks to each man of courage, + To the maids of holy mind, +To the boy with his games undaunted + Who never looks behind. + +Cities of proud hotels, + Houses of rich and great, +Vice nestles in your chambers, + Beneath your roofs of slate. +It cannot conquer folly,-- + Time-and-space-conquering steam,-- +And the light-outspeeding telegraph + Bears nothing on its beam. + +The politics are base; + The letters do not cheer; +And 'tis far in the deeps of history, + The voice that speaketh clear. +Trade and the streets ensnare us, + Our bodies are weak and worn; +We plot and corrupt each other, + And we despoil the unborn. + +Yet there in the parlor sits + Some figure of noble guise,-- +Our angel, in a stranger's form, + Or woman's pleading eyes; +Or only a flashing sunbeam + In at the window-pane; +Or Music pours on mortals + Its beautiful disdain. + +The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be; +And be sure the all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. +Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky between the walls, +Hold all the hidden wonders + In scanty intervals. + +Alas! the Sprite that haunts us + Deceives our rash desire; +It whispers of the glorious gods, + And leaves us in the mire. +We cannot learn the cipher + That's writ upon our cell; +Stars taunt us by a mystery + Which we could never spell. + +If but one hero knew it, + The world would blush in flame; +The sage, till he hit the secret, + Would hang his head for shame. +Our brothers have not read it, + Not one has found the key; +And henceforth we are comforted,-- + We are but such as they. + +Still, still the secret presses; + The nearing clouds draw down; +The crimson morning flames into + The fopperies of the town. +Within, without the idle earth, + Stars weave eternal rings; +The sun himself shines heartily, + And shares the joy he brings. + +And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, +And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o'er?-- +They are but sailing foam-bells + Along Thought's causing stream, +And take their shape and sun-color + From him that sends the dream. + +For Destiny never swerves + Nor yields to men the helm; +He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves, + Throughout the solid realm. +The patient Daemon sits, + With roses and a shroud; +He has his way, and deals his gifts,-- + But ours is not allowed. + +He is no churl nor trifler, + And his viceroy is none,-- +Love-without-weakness,-- + Of Genius sire and son. +And his will is not thwarted; + The seeds of land and sea +Are the atoms of his body bright, + And his behest obey. + +He serveth the servant, + The brave he loves amain; +He kills the cripple and the sick, + And straight begins again; +For gods delight in gods, + And thrust the weak aside; +To him who scorns their charities + Their arms fly open wide. + +When the old world is sterile + And the ages are effete, +He will from wrecks and sediment + The fairer world complete. +He forbids to despair; + His cheeks mantle with mirth; +And the unimagined good of men + Is yeaning at the birth. + +Spring still makes spring in the mind + When sixty years are told; +Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, + And we are never old; +Over the winter glaciers + I see the summer glow, +And through the wild-piled snow-drift + The warm rosebuds below. + + + +THE SPHINX + +The Sphinx is drowsy, + Her wings are furled: +Her ear is heavy, + She broods on the world. +"Who'll tell me my secret, + The ages have kept?-- +I awaited the seer + While they slumbered and slept:-- + +"The fate of the man-child, + The meaning of man; +Known fruit of the unknown; + Daedalian plan; +Out of sleeping a waking, + Out of waking a sleep; +Life death overtaking; + Deep underneath deep? + +"Erect as a sunbeam, + Upspringeth the palm; +The elephant browses, + Undaunted and calm; +In beautiful motion + The thrush plies his wings; +Kind leaves of his covert, + Your silence he sings. + +"The waves, unashamed, + In difference sweet, +Play glad with the breezes, + Old playfellows meet; +The journeying atoms, + Primordial wholes, +Firmly draw, firmly drive, + By their animate poles. + +"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. + Plant, quadruped, bird, +By one music enchanted, + One deity stirred,-- +Each the other adorning, + Accompany still; +Night veileth the morning, + The vapor the hill. + +"The babe by its mother + Lies bathed in joy; +Glide its hours uncounted,-- + The sun is its toy; +Shines the peace of all being, + Without cloud, in its eyes; +And the sum of the world + In soft miniature lies. + +"But man crouches and blushes, + Absconds and conceals; +He creepeth and peepeth, + He palters and steals; +Infirm, melancholy, + Jealous glancing around, +An oaf, an accomplice, + He poisons the ground. + +"Out spoke the great mother, + Beholding his fear;-- +At the sound of her accents + Cold shuddered the sphere:-- +'Who has drugged my boy's cup? + Who has mixed my boy's bread? +Who, with sadness and madness, + Has turned my child's head?'" + +I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, +'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. +Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; +They fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime. + +"The fiend that man harries + Is love of the Best; +Yawns the pit of the Dragon, + Lit by rays from the Blest. +The Lethe of Nature + Can't trance him again, +Whose soul sees the perfect, + Which his eyes seek in vain. + +"To vision profounder, + Man's spirit must dive; +His aye-rolling orb + At no goal will arrive; +The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, +Once found,--for new heavens + He spurneth the old. + +"Pride ruined the angels, + Their shame them restores; +Lurks the joy that is sweetest + In stings of remorse. +Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?-- +I would he were nobler + Than to love me. + +"Eterne alternation + Now follows, now flies; +And under pain, pleasure,-- + Under pleasure, pain lies. +Love works at the centre, + Heart-heaving alway; +Forth speed the strong pulses + To the borders of day. + +"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; + Thy sight is growing blear; +Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, + Her muddy eyes to clear!" +The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,-- + Said, "Who taught thee me to name? +I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow; + Of thine eye I am eyebeam. + +"Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, +Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. +So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; +Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply." + +Uprose the merry Sphinx, + And crouched no more in stone; +She melted into purple cloud, + She silvered in the moon; +She spired into a yellow flame; + She flowered in blossoms red; +She flowed into a foaming wave: + She stood Monadnoc's head. + +Thorough a thousand voices + Spoke the universal dame; +"Who telleth one of my meanings + Is master of all I am." + + + +ALPHONSO OF CASTILE + +I, Alphonso, live and learn, +Seeing Nature go astern. +Things deteriorate in kind; +Lemons run to leaves and rind; +Meagre crop of figs and limes; +Shorter days and harder times. +Flowering April cools and dies +In the insufficient skies. +Imps, at high midsummer, blot +Half the sun's disk with a spot; +'Twill not now avail to tan +Orange cheek or skin of man. +Roses bleach, the goats are dry, +Lisbon quakes, the people cry. +Yon pale, scrawny fisher fools, +Gaunt as bitterns in the pools, +Are no brothers of my blood;-- +They discredit Adamhood. +Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, +O'er your ramparts as ye lean, +The general debility; +Of genius the sterility; +Mighty projects countermanded; +Rash ambition, brokenhanded; +Puny man and scentless rose +Tormenting Pan to double the dose. +Rebuild or ruin: either fill +Of vital force the wasted rill, +Or tumble all again in heap +To weltering Chaos and to sleep. + +Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, +Which fed the veins of earth and sky, +That mortals miss the loyal heats, +Which drove them erst to social feats; +Now, to a savage selfness grown, +Think nature barely serves for one; +With science poorly mask their hurt; +And vex the gods with question pert, +Immensely curious whether you +Still are rulers, or Mildew? + +Masters, I'm in pain with you; +Masters, I'll be plain with you; +In my palace of Castile, +I, a king, for kings can feel. +There my thoughts the matter roll, +And solve and oft resolve the whole. +And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, +Ye shall not fail for sound advice. +Before ye want a drop of rain, +Hear the sentiment of Spain. + +You have tried famine: no more try it; +Ply us now with a full diet; +Teach your pupils now with plenty, +For one sun supply us twenty. +I have thought it thoroughly over,-- +State of hermit, state of lover; +We must have society, +We cannot spare variety. +Hear you, then, celestial fellows! +Fits not to be overzealous; +Steads not to work on the clean jump, +Nor wine nor brains perpetual pump. +Men and gods are too extense; +Could you slacken and condense? +Your rank overgrowths reduce +Till your kinds abound with juice? +Earth, crowded, cries, 'Too many men!' +My counsel is, kill nine in ten, +And bestow the shares of all +On the remnant decimal. +Add their nine lives to this cat; +Stuff their nine brains in one hat; +Make his frame and forces square +With the labors he must dare; +Thatch his flesh, and even his years +With the marble which he rears. +There, growing slowly old at ease +No faster than his planted trees, +He may, by warrant of his age, +In schemes of broader scope engage. +So shall ye have a man of the sphere +Fit to grace the solar year. + + + +MITHRIDATES + +I cannot spare water or wine, + Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; +From the earth-poles to the Line, + All between that works or grows, +Every thing is kin of mine. + +Give me agates for my meat; +Give me cantharids to eat; +From air and ocean bring me foods, +From all zones and altitudes;-- + +From all natures, sharp and slimy, + Salt and basalt, wild and tame: +Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, + Bird, and reptile, be my game. + +Ivy for my fillet band; +Blinding dog-wood in my hand; +Hemlock for my sherbet cull me, +And the prussic juice to lull me; +Swing me in the upas boughs, +Vampyre-fanned, when I carouse. + +Too long shut in strait and few, +Thinly dieted on dew, +I will use the world, and sift it, +To a thousand humors shift it, +As you spin a cherry. +O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry! +O all you virtues, methods, mights, +Means, appliances, delights, +Reputed wrongs and braggart rights, +Smug routine, and things allowed, +Minorities, things under cloud! +Hither! take me, use me, fill me, +Vein and artery, though ye kill me! + + + +TO J.W. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Hear what wine and roses say; +The mountain chase, the summer waves, +The crowded town, thy feet may well delay. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Nor seek to unwind the shroud +Which charitable Time +And Nature have allowed +To wrap the errors of a sage sublime. + +Set not thy foot on graves; +Care not to strip the dead +Of his sad ornament, +His myrrh, and wine, and rings, + +His sheet of lead, +And trophies buried: +Go, get them where he earned them when alive; +As resolutely dig or dive. + +Life is too short to waste +In critic peep or cynic bark, +Quarrel or reprimand: +'T will soon be dark; +Up! mind thine own aim, and +God speed the mark! + + + +DESTINY + +That you are fair or wise is vain, +Or strong, or rich, or generous; +You must add the untaught strain +That sheds beauty on the rose. +There's a melody born of melody, +Which melts the world into a sea. +Toil could never compass it; +Art its height could never hit; +It came never out of wit; +But a music music-born +Well may Jove and Juno scorn. +Thy beauty, if it lack the fire +Which drives me mad with sweet desire, +What boots it? What the soldier's mail, +Unless he conquer and prevail? +What all the goods thy pride which lift, +If thou pine for another's gift? +Alas! that one is born in blight, +Victim of perpetual slight: +When thou lookest on his face, +Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! +None shall ask thee what thou doest, +Or care a rush for what thou knowest, +Or listen when thou repliest, +Or remember where thou liest, +Or how thy supper is sodden;' +And another is born +To make the sun forgotten. +Surely he carries a talisman +Under his tongue; +Broad his shoulders are and strong; +And his eye is scornful, +Threatening and young. +I hold it of little matter +Whether your jewel be of pure water, +A rose diamond or a white, +But whether it dazzle me with light. +I care not how you are dressed, +In coarsest weeds or in the best; +Nor whether your name is base or brave: +Nor for the fashion of your behavior; +But whether you charm me, +Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me +And dress up Nature in your favor. +One thing is forever good; +That one thing is Success,-- +Dear to the Eumenides, +And to all the heavenly brood. +Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, +Carries the eagles, and masters the sword. + + + +GUY + +Mortal mixed of middle clay, +Attempered to the night and day, +Interchangeable with things, +Needs no amulets nor rings. +Guy possessed the talisman +That all things from him began; +And as, of old, Polycrates +Chained the sunshine and the breeze, +So did Guy betimes discover +Fortune was his guard and lover; +In strange junctures, felt, with awe, +His own symmetry with law; +That no mixture could withstand +The virtue of his lucky hand. +He gold or jewel could not lose, +Nor not receive his ample dues. +Fearless Guy had never foes, +He did their weapons decompose. +Aimed at him, the blushing blade +Healed as fast the wounds it made. +If on the foeman fell his gaze, +Him it would straightway blind or craze, +In the street, if he turned round, +His eye the eye 't was seeking found. + +It seemed his Genius discreet +Worked on the Maker's own receipt, +And made each tide and element +Stewards of stipend and of rent; +So that the common waters fell +As costly wine into his well. +He had so sped his wise affairs +That he caught Nature in his snares. +Early or late, the falling rain +Arrived in time to swell his grain; +Stream could not so perversely wind +But corn of Guy's was there to grind: +The siroc found it on its way, +To speed his sails, to dry his hay; +And the world's sun seemed to rise +To drudge all day for Guy the wise. +In his rich nurseries, timely skill +Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; +The zephyr in his garden rolled +From plum-trees vegetable gold; +And all the hours of the year +With their own harvest honored were. +There was no frost but welcome came, +Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. +Belonged to wind and world the toil +And venture, and to Guy the oil. + + + +HAMATREYA + +Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, +Possessed the land which rendered to their toil +Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood. +Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm, +Saying, ''Tis mine, my children's and my name's. +How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees! +How graceful climb those shadows on my hill! +I fancy these pure waters and the flags +Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize; +And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.' + +Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds: +And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. +Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys +Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; +Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet +Clear of the grave. +They added ridge to valley, brook to pond, +And sighed for all that bounded their domain; +'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park; +We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge, +And misty lowland, where to go for peat. +The land is well,--lies fairly to the south. +'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back, +To find the sitfast acres where you left them.' +Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds +Him to his land, a lump of mould the more. +Hear what the Earth says:-- + + EARTH-SONG + + 'Mine and yours; + Mine, not yours. + Earth endures; + Stars abide-- + Shine down in the old sea; + Old are the shores; + But where are old men? + I who have seen much, + Such have I never seen. + + 'The lawyer's deed + Ran sure, + In tail, + To them, and to their heirs + Who shall succeed, + Without fail, + Forevermore. + + 'Here is the land, + Shaggy with wood, + With its old valley, + Mound and flood. + But the heritors?-- + + Fled like the flood's foam. + The lawyer, and the laws, + And the kingdom, + Clean swept herefrom. + + 'They called me theirs, + Who so controlled me; + Yet every one + Wished to stay, and is gone, + How am I theirs, + If they cannot hold me, + But I hold them?' + +When I heard the Earth-song +I was no longer brave; +My avarice cooled +Like lust in the chill of the grave. + + + +THE RHODORA: + +ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? + +In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, +I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, +Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, +To please the desert and the sluggish brook. +The purple petals, fallen in the pool, +Made the black water with their beauty gay; +Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. +And court the flower that cheapens his array. +Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why +This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, +Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, +Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: +Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! +I never thought to ask, I never knew: +But, in my simple ignorance, suppose +The self-same Power that brought me there brought you. + + + +THE HUMBLE-BEE + +Burly, dozing humble-bee, +Where thou art is clime for me. +Let them sail for Porto Rique, +Far-off heats through seas to seek; +I will follow thee alone, +Thou animated torrid-zone! +Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, +Let me chase thy waving lines; +Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, +Singing over shrubs and vines. + +Insect lover of the sun, +Joy of thy dominion! +Sailor of the atmosphere; +Swimmer through the waves of air; +Voyager of light and noon; +Epicurean of June; +Wait, I prithee, till I come +Within earshot of thy hum,-- +All without is martyrdom. + +When the south wind, in May days, +With a net of shining haze +Silvers the horizon wall, +And with softness touching all, +Tints the human countenance +With a color of romance, +And infusing subtle heats, +Turns the sod to violets, +Thou, in sunny solitudes, +Rover of the underwoods, +The green silence dost displace +With thy mellow, breezy bass. + +Hot midsummer's petted crone, +Sweet to me thy drowsy tone +Tells of countless sunny hours, +Long days, and solid banks of flowers; +Of gulfs of sweetness without bound +In Indian wildernesses found; +Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, +Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. + +Aught unsavory or unclean +Hath my insect never seen; +But violets and bilberry bells, +Maple-sap and daffodels, +Grass with green flag half-mast high, +Succory to match the sky, +Columbine with horn of honey, +Scented fern, and agrimony, +Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue +And brier-roses, dwelt among; +All beside was unknown waste, +All was picture as he passed. + +Wiser far than human seer, +Yellow-breeched philosopher! +Seeing only what is fair, +Sipping only what is sweet, +Thou dost mock at fate and care, +Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. +When the fierce northwestern blast +Cools sea and land so far and fast, +Thou already slumberest deep; +Woe and want thou canst outsleep; +Want and woe, which torture us, +Thy sleep makes ridiculous. + + + +BERRYING + +'May be true what I had heard,-- +Earth's a howling wilderness, +Truculent with fraud and force,' +Said I, strolling through the pastures, +And along the river-side. +Caught among the blackberry vines, +Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, +Pleasant fancies overtook me. +I said, 'What influence me preferred, +Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' +The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem +No wisdom from our berries went?' + + + +THE SNOW-STORM + +Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, +Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, +Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air +Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, +And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. +The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet +Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit +Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed +In a tumultuous privacy of storm. + + Come see the north wind's masonry. +Out of an unseen quarry +Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer +Curves his white bastions with projected roof +Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. +Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work +So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he +For number or proportion. Mockingly, +On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; +A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; +Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, +Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate +A tapering turret overtops the work. +And when his hours are numbered, and the world +Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, +Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art +To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, +Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, +The frolic architecture of the snow. + + + +WOODNOTES I + +1 + +When the pine tosses its cones +To the song of its waterfall tones, +Who speeds to the woodland walks? +To birds and trees who talks? +Caesar of his leafy Rome, +There the poet is at home. +He goes to the river-side,-- +Not hook nor line hath he; +He stands in the meadows wide,-- +Nor gun nor scythe to see. +Sure some god his eye enchants: +What he knows nobody wants. +In the wood he travels glad, +Without better fortune had, +Melancholy without bad. +Knowledge this man prizes best +Seems fantastic to the rest: +Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, +Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, +Boughs on which the wild bees settle, +Tints that spot the violet's petal, +Why Nature loves the number five, +And why the star-form she repeats: +Lover of all things alive, +Wonderer at all he meets, +Wonderer chiefly at himself, +Who can tell him what he is? +Or how meet in human elf +Coming and past eternities? + +2 + +And such I knew, a forest seer, +A minstrel of the natural year, +Foreteller of the vernal ides, +Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, +A lover true, who knew by heart +Each joy the mountain dales impart; +It seemed that Nature could not raise +A plant in any secret place, +In quaking bog, on snowy hill, +Beneath the grass that shades the rill, +Under the snow, between the rocks, +In damp fields known to bird and fox. +But he would come in the very hour +It opened in its virgin bower, +As if a sunbeam showed the place, +And tell its long-descended race. +It seemed as if the breezes brought him, +It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; +As if by secret sight he knew +Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. +Many haps fall in the field +Seldom seen by wishful eyes, +But all her shows did Nature yield, +To please and win this pilgrim wise. +He saw the partridge drum in the woods; +He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; +He found the tawny thrushes' broods; +And the shy hawk did wait for him; +What others did at distance hear, +And guessed within the thicket's gloom, +Was shown to this philosopher, +And at his bidding seemed to come. + +3 + +In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang +Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; +He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon +The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; +Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, +And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. +He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, +The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, +And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, +Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. +He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, +With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,-- +One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, +Declares the close of its green century. +Low lies the plant to whose creation went +Sweet influence from every element; +Whose living towers the years conspired to build, +Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. +Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, +He roamed, content alike with man and beast. +Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; +There the red morning touched him with its light. +Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, +So long he roved at will the boundless shade. +The timid it concerns to ask their way, +And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, +To make no step until the event is known, +And ills to come as evils past bemoan. +Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps +To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; +Go where he will, the wise man is at home, +His hearth the earth,--his hall the azure dome; +Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road +By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. + +4 + +'T was one of the charmed days +When the genius of God doth flow; +The wind may alter twenty ways, +A tempest cannot blow; +It may blow north, it still is warm; +Or south, it still is clear; +Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; +Or west, no thunder fear. +The musing peasant, lowly great, +Beside the forest water sate; +The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown +Composed the network of his throne; +The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, +Was burnished to a floor of glass, +Painted with shadows green and proud +Of the tree and of the cloud. +He was the heart of all the scene; +On him the sun looked more serene; +To hill and cloud his face was known,-- +It seemed the likeness of their own; +They knew by secret sympathy +The public child of earth and sky. +'You ask,' he said, 'what guide +Me through trackless thickets led, +Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. +I found the water's bed. +The watercourses were my guide; +I travelled grateful by their side, +Or through their channel dry; +They led me through the thicket damp, +Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, +Through beds of granite cut my road, +And their resistless friendship showed. +The falling waters led me, +The foodful waters fed me, +And brought me to the lowest land, +Unerring to the ocean sand. +The moss upon the forest bark +Was pole-star when the night was dark; +The purple berries in the wood +Supplied me necessary food; +For Nature ever faithful is +To such as trust her faithfulness. +When the forest shall mislead me, +When the night and morning lie, +When sea and land refuse to feed me, +'T will be time enough to die; +Then will yet my mother yield +A pillow in her greenest field, +Nor the June flowers scorn to cover +The clay of their departed lover.' + + + +WOODNOTES II + +_As sunbeams stream through liberal space_ +_And nothing jostle or displace,_ +_So waved the pine-tree through my thought_ +_And fanned the dreams it never brought._ + +'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? +Come to me,' +Quoth the pine-tree, +'I am the giver of honor. +My garden is the cloven rock, +And my manure the snow; +And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, +In summer's scorching glow. +He is great who can live by me: +The rough and bearded forester +Is better than the lord; +God fills the script and canister, +Sin piles the loaded board. +The lord is the peasant that was, +The peasant the lord that shall be; +The lord is hay, the peasant grass, +One dry, and one the living tree. +Who liveth by the ragged pine +Foundeth a heroic line; +Who liveth in the palace hall +Waneth fast and spendeth all. +He goes to my savage haunts, +With his chariot and his care; +My twilight realm he disenchants, +And finds his prison there. + +'What prizes the town and the tower? +Only what the pine-tree yields; +Sinew that subdued the fields; +The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods +Chants his hymn to hills and floods, +Whom the city's poisoning spleen +Made not pale, or fat, or lean; +Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, +Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, +In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, +In whose feet the lion rusheth, +Iron arms, and iron mould, +That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. +I give my rafters to his boat, +My billets to his boiler's throat, +And I will swim the ancient sea +To float my child to victory, +And grant to dwellers with the pine +Dominion o'er the palm and vine. +Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, +Unnerves his strength, invites his end. +Cut a bough from my parent stem, +And dip it in thy porcelain vase; +A little while each russet gem +Will swell and rise with wonted grace; +But when it seeks enlarged supplies, +The orphan of the forest dies. +Whoso walks in solitude +And inhabiteth the wood, +Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, +Before the money-loving herd, +Into that forester shall pass, +From these companions, power and grace. +Clean shall he be, without, within, +From the old adhering sin, +All ill dissolving in the light +Of his triumphant piercing sight: +Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; +Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; +Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, +And of all other men desired. +On him the light of star and moon +Shall fall with purer radiance down; +All constellations of the sky +Shed their virtue through his eye. +Him Nature giveth for defence +His formidable innocence; +The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, +All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; +He shall meet the speeding year, +Without wailing, without fear; +He shall be happy in his love, +Like to like shall joyful prove; +He shall be happy whilst he wooes, +Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. +But if with gold she bind her hair, +And deck her breast with diamond, +Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, +Though thou lie alone on the ground. + +'Heed the old oracles, +Ponder my spells; +Song wakes in my pinnacles +When the wind swells. +Soundeth the prophetic wind, +The shadows shake on the rock behind, +And the countless leaves of the pine are strings +Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. + Hearken! Hearken! +If thou wouldst know the mystic song +Chanted when the sphere was young. +Aloft, abroad, the paean swells; +O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? +O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? +'Tis the chronicle of art. +To the open ear it sings +Sweet the genesis of things, +Of tendency through endless ages, +Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, +Of rounded worlds, of space and time, +Of the old flood's subsiding slime, +Of chemic matter, force and form, +Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: +The rushing metamorphosis +Dissolving all that fixture is, +Melts things that be to things that seem, +And solid nature to a dream. +O, listen to the undersong, +The ever old, the ever young; +And, far within those cadent pauses, +The chorus of the ancient Causes! +Delights the dreadful Destiny +To fling his voice into the tree, +And shock thy weak ear with a note +Breathed from the everlasting throat. +In music he repeats the pang +Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. +O mortal! thy ears are stones; +These echoes are laden with tones +Which only the pure can hear; +Thou canst not catch what they recite +Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, +Of man to come, of human life, +Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' + + Once again the pine-tree sung:-- +'Speak not thy speech my boughs among: +Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; +My hours are peaceful centuries. +Talk no more with feeble tongue; +No more the fool of space and time, +Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. +Only thy Americans +Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, +But the runes that I rehearse +Understands the universe; +The least breath my boughs which tossed +Brings again the Pentecost; +To every soul resounding clear +In a voice of solemn cheer,-- +"Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" +And they reply, "Forever mine!" +My branches speak Italian, +English, German, Basque, Castilian, +Mountain speech to Highlanders, +Ocean tongues to islanders, +To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, +To each his bosom-secret say. + + 'Come learn with me the fatal song +Which knits the world in music strong, +Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, +Of things with things, of times with times, +Primal chimes of sun and shade, +Of sound and echo, man and maid, +The land reflected in the flood, +Body with shadow still pursued. +For Nature beats in perfect tune, +And rounds with rhyme her every rune, +Whether she work in land or sea, +Or hide underground her alchemy. +Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, +Or dip thy paddle in the lake, +But it carves the bow of beauty there, +And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. +The wood is wiser far than thou; +The wood and wave each other know +Not unrelated, unaffied, +But to each thought and thing allied, +Is perfect Nature's every part, +Rooted in the mighty Heart, +But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, +Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, +Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? +Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? +Who thee divorced, deceived and left? +Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, +And torn the ensigns from thy brow, +And sunk the immortal eye so low? +Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, +Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender +For royal man;--they thee confess +An exile from the wilderness,-- +The hills where health with health agrees, +And the wise soul expels disease. +Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign +By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. +When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, +Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, +To thee the horizon shall express +But emptiness on emptiness; +There lives no man of Nature's worth +In the circle of the earth; +And to thine eye the vast skies fall, +Dire and satirical, +On clucking hens and prating fools, +On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. +And thou shalt say to the Most High, +"Godhead! all this astronomy, +And fate and practice and invention, +Strong art and beautiful pretension, +This radiant pomp of sun and star, +Throes that were, and worlds that are, +Behold! were in vain and in vain;-- +It cannot be,--I will look again. +Surely now will the curtain rise, +And earth's fit tenant me surprise;-- +But the curtain doth _not_ rise, +And Nature has miscarried wholly +Into failure, into folly." + +'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, +Blessed Nature so to see. +Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, +And heal the hurts which sin has made. +I see thee in the crowd alone; +I will be thy companion. +Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, +And build to them a final tomb; +Let the starred shade that nightly falls +Still celebrate their funerals, +And the bell of beetle and of bee +Knell their melodious memory. +Behind thee leave thy merchandise, +Thy churches and thy charities; +And leave thy peacock wit behind; +Enough for thee the primal mind +That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: +Leave all thy pedant lore apart; +God hid the whole world in thy heart. +Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, +Gives all to them who all renounce. +The rain comes when the wind calls; +The river knows the way to the sea; +Without a pilot it runs and falls, +Blessing all lands with its charity; +The sea tosses and foams to find +Its way up to the cloud and wind; +The shadow sits close to the flying ball; +The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; +And thou,--go burn thy wormy pages,-- +Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. +Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain +To find what bird had piped the strain:-- +Seek not, and the little eremite +Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. + +'Hearken once more! +I will tell thee the mundane lore. +Older am I than thy numbers wot, +Change I may, but I pass not. +Hitherto all things fast abide, +And anchored in the tempest ride. +Trenchant time behoves to hurry +All to yean and all to bury: +All the forms are fugitive, +But the substances survive. +Ever fresh the broad creation, +A divine improvisation, +From the heart of God proceeds, +A single will, a million deeds. +Once slept the world an egg of stone, +And pulse, and sound, and light was none; +And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion +And the vast mass became vast ocean. +Onward and on, the eternal Pan, +Who layeth the world's incessant plan, +Halteth never in one shape, +But forever doth escape, +Like wave or flame, into new forms +Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. +I, that to-day am a pine, +Yesterday was a bundle of grass. +He is free and libertine, +Pouring of his power the wine +To every age, to every race; +Unto every race and age +He emptieth the beverage; +Unto each, and unto all, +Maker and original. +The world is the ring of his spells, +And the play of his miracles. +As he giveth to all to drink, +Thus or thus they are and think. +With one drop sheds form and feature; +With the next a special nature; +The third adds heat's indulgent spark; +The fourth gives light which eats the dark; +Into the fifth himself he flings, +And conscious Law is King of kings. +As the bee through the garden ranges, +From world to world the godhead changes; +As the sheep go feeding in the waste, +From form to form He maketh haste; +This vault which glows immense with light +Is the inn where he lodges for a night. +What recks such Traveller if the bowers +Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers +A bunch of fragrant lilies be, +Or the stars of eternity? +Alike to him the better, the worse,-- +The glowing angel, the outcast corse. +Thou metest him by centuries, +And lo! he passes like the breeze; +Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, +He hides in pure transparency; +Thou askest in fountains and in fires, +He is the essence that inquires. +He is the axis of the star; +He is the sparkle of the spar; +He is the heart of every creature; +He is the meaning of each feature; +And his mind is the sky. +Than all it holds more deep, more high.' + + + +MONADNOC + +Thousand minstrels woke within me, + 'Our music's in the hills;'-- +Gayest pictures rose to win me, + Leopard-colored rills. +'Up!--If thou knew'st who calls +To twilight parks of beech and pine, +High over the river intervals, +Above the ploughman's highest line, +Over the owner's farthest walls! +Up! where the airy citadel +O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell! +Let not unto the stones the Day +Her lily and rose, her sea and land display. +Read the celestial sign! +Lo! the south answers to the north; +Bookworm, break this sloth urbane; +A greater spirit bids thee forth +Than the gray dreams which thee detain. +Mark how the climbing Oreads +Beckon thee to their arcades; +Youth, for a moment free as they, +Teach thy feet to feel the ground, +Ere yet arrives the wintry day +When Time thy feet has bound. +Take the bounty of thy birth, +Taste the lordship of the earth.' + + I heard, and I obeyed,-- +Assured that he who made the claim, +Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid. +Ere yet the summoning voice was still, +I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill. +From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed +Like ample banner flung abroad +To all the dwellers in the plains +Round about, a hundred miles, +With salutation to the sea and to the bordering isles. +In his own loom's garment dressed, +By his proper bounty blessed, +Fast abides this constant giver, +Pouring many a cheerful river; +To far eyes, an aerial isle +Unploughed, which finer spirits pile, +Which morn and crimson evening paint +For bard, for lover and for saint; +An eyemark and the country's core, +Inspirer, prophet evermore; +Pillar which God aloft had set +So that men might it not forget; +It should be their life's ornament, +And mix itself with each event; +Gauge and calendar and dial, +Weatherglass and chemic phial, +Garden of berries, perch of birds, +Pasture of pool-haunting herds, +Graced by each change of sum untold, +Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold. + +The Titan heeds his sky-affairs, +Rich rents and wide alliance shares; +Mysteries of color daily laid +By morn and eve in light and shade; +And sweet varieties of chance, +And the mystic seasons' dance; +And thief-like step of liberal hours +Thawing snow-drift into flowers. +O, wondrous craft of plant and stone +By eldest science wrought and shown! + +'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here! +Fair fortunes to the mountaineer! +Boon Nature to his poorest shed +Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.' +Intent, I searched the region round, +And in low hut the dweller found: +Woe is me for my hope's downfall! +Is yonder squalid peasant all +That this proud nursery could breed +For God's vicegerency and stead? +Time out of mind, this forge of ores; +Quarry of spars in mountain pores; +Old cradle, hunting-ground and bier +Of wolf and otter, bear and deer; +Well-built abode of many a race; +Tower of observance searching space; +Factory of river and of rain; +Link in the Alps' globe-girding chain; +By million changes skilled to tell +What in the Eternal standeth well, +And what obedient Nature can;-- +Is this colossal talisman +Kindly to plant and blood and kind, +But speechless to the master's mind? +I thought to find the patriots +In whom the stock of freedom roots; +To myself I oft recount +Tales of many a famous mount,-- +Wales, Scotland, Uri, Hungary's dells: +Bards, Roys, Scanderbegs and Tells; +And think how Nature in these towers +Uplifted shall condense her powers, +And lifting man to the blue deep +Where stars their perfect courses keep, +Like wise preceptor, lure his eye +To sound the science of the sky, +And carry learning to its height +Of untried power and sane delight: +The Indian cheer, the frosty skies, +Rear purer wits, inventive eyes,-- +Eyes that frame cities where none be, +And hands that stablish what these see: +And by the moral of his place +Hint summits of heroic grace; +Man in these crags a fastness find +To fight pollution of the mind; +In the wide thaw and ooze of wrong, +Adhere like this foundation strong, +The insanity of towns to stem +With simpleness for stratagem. +But if the brave old mould is broke, +And end in churls the mountain folk +In tavern cheer and tavern joke, +Sink, O mountain, in the swamp! +Hide in thy skies, O sovereign lamp! +Perish like leaves, the highland breed +No sire survive, no son succeed! + +Soft! let not the offended muse +Toil's hard hap with scorn accuse. +Many hamlets sought I then, +Many farms of mountain men. +Rallying round a parish steeple +Nestle warm the highland people, +Coarse and boisterous, yet mild, +Strong as giant, slow as child. +Sweat and season are their arts, +Their talismans are ploughs and carts; +And well the youngest can command +Honey from the frozen land; +With cloverheads the swamp adorn, +Change the running sand to corn; +For wolf and fox, bring lowing herds, +And for cold mosses, cream and curds: +Weave wood to canisters and mats; +Drain sweet maple juice in vats. +No bird is safe that cuts the air +From their rifle or their snare; +No fish, in river or in lake, +But their long hands it thence will take; +Whilst the country's flinty face, +Like wax, their fashioning skill betrays, +To fill the hollows, sink the hills, +Bridge gulfs, drain swamps, build dams and mills, +And fit the bleak and howling waste +For homes of virtue, sense and taste. +The World-soul knows his own affair, +Forelooking, when he would prepare +For the next ages, men of mould +Well embodied, well ensouled, +He cools the present's fiery glow, +Sets the life-pulse strong but slow: +Bitter winds and fasts austere +His quarantines and grottoes, where +He slowly cures decrepit flesh, +And brings it infantile and fresh. +Toil and tempest are the toys +And games to breathe his stalwart boys: +They bide their time, and well can prove, +If need were, their line from Jove; +Of the same stuff, and so allayed, +As that whereof the sun is made, +And of the fibre, quick and strong, +Whose throbs are love, whose thrills are song. + + Now in sordid weeds they sleep, +In dulness now their secret keep; +Yet, will you learn our ancient speech, +These the masters who can teach. +Fourscore or a hundred words +All their vocal muse affords; +But they turn them in a fashion +Past clerks' or statesmen's art or passion. +I can spare the college bell, +And the learned lecture, well; +Spare the clergy and libraries, +Institutes and dictionaries, +For that hardy English root +Thrives here, unvalued, underfoot. +Rude poets of the tavern hearth, +Squandering your unquoted mirth, +Which keeps the ground and never soars, +While Jake retorts and Reuben roars; +Scoff of yeoman strong and stark, +Goes like bullet to its mark; +While the solid curse and jeer +Never balk the waiting ear. + + On the summit as I stood, +O'er the floor of plain and flood +Seemed to me, the towering hill +Was not altogether still, +But a quiet sense conveyed: +If I err not, thus it said:-- + +'Many feet in summer seek, +Oft, my far-appearing peak; +In the dreaded winter time, +None save dappling shadows climb, +Under clouds, my lonely head, +Old as the sun, old almost as the shade; +And comest thou +To see strange forests and new snow, +And tread uplifted land? +And leavest thou thy lowland race, +Here amid clouds to stand? +And wouldst be my companion +Where I gaze, and still shall gaze, +Through tempering nights and flashing days, +When forests fall, and man is gone, +Over tribes and over times, +At the burning Lyre, +Nearing me, +With its stars of northern fire, +In many a thousand years? + +'Gentle pilgrim, if thou know +The gamut old of Pan, +And how the hills began, +The frank blessings of the hill +Fall on thee, as fall they will. + +'Let him heed who can and will; +Enchantment fixed me here +To stand the hurts of time, until +In mightier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest +How the chemic eddies play, +Pole to pole, and what they say; +And that these gray crags +Not on crags are hung, +But beads are of a rosary +On prayer and music strung; +And, credulous, through the granite seeming, +Seest the smile of Reason beaming;-- +Can thy style-discerning eye +The hidden-working Builder spy, +Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din, +With hammer soft as snowflake's flight;-- +Knowest thou this? +O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! +Already my rocks lie light, +And soon my cone will spin. + +'For the world was built in order, +And the atoms march in tune; +Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, +The sun obeys them and the moon. +Orb and atom forth they prance, +When they hear from far the rune; +None so backward in the troop, +When the music and the dance +Reach his place and circumstance, +But knows the sun-creating sound, +And, though a pyramid, will bound. + +'Monadnoc is a mountain strong, +Tall and good my kind among; +But well I know, no mountain can, +Zion or Meru, measure with man. +For it is on zodiacs writ, +Adamant is soft to wit: +And when the greater comes again +With my secret in his brain, +I shall pass, as glides my shadow +Daily over hill and meadow. + +'Through all time, in light, in gloom +Well I hear the approaching feet +On the flinty pathway beat +Of him that cometh, and shall come; +Of him who shall as lightly bear +My daily load of woods and streams, +As doth this round sky-cleaving boat +Which never strains its rocky beams; +Whose timbers, as they silent float, +Alps and Caucasus uprear, +And the long Alleghanies here, +And all town-sprinkled lands that be, +Sailing through stars with all their history. + +'Every morn I lift my head, +See New England underspread, +South from Saint Lawrence to the Sound, +From Katskill east to the sea-bound. +Anchored fast for many an age, +I await the bard and sage, +Who, in large thoughts, like fair pearl-seed, +Shall string Monadnoc like a bead. +Comes that cheerful troubadour, +This mound shall throb his face before, +As when, with inward fires and pain, +It rose a bubble from the plain. +When he cometh, I shall shed, +From this wellspring in my head, +Fountain-drop of spicier worth +Than all vintage of the earth. +There's fruit upon my barren soil +Costlier far than wine or oil. +There's a berry blue and gold,-- +Autumn-ripe, its juices hold +Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart, +Asia's rancor, Athens' art, +Slowsure Britain's secular might, +And the German's inward sight. +I will give my son to eat +Best of Pan's immortal meat, +Bread to eat, and juice to drain; +So the coinage of his brain +Shall not be forms of stars, but stars, +Nor pictures pale, but Jove and Mars, +He comes, but not of that race bred +Who daily climb my specular head. +Oft as morning wreathes my scarf, +Fled the last plumule of the Dark, +Pants up hither the spruce clerk +From South Cove and City Wharf. +I take him up my rugged sides, +Half-repentant, scant of breath,-- +Bead-eyes my granite chaos show, +And my midsummer snow: +Open the daunting map beneath,-- +All his county, sea and land, +Dwarfed to measure of his hand; +His day's ride is a furlong space, +His city-tops a glimmering haze. +I plant his eyes on the sky-hoop bounding; +"See there the grim gray rounding +Of the bullet of the earth +Whereon ye sail, +Tumbling steep +In the uncontinented deep." +He looks on that, and he turns pale. +'T is even so, this treacherous kite, +Farm-furrowed, town-incrusted sphere, +Thoughtless of its anxious freight, +Plunges eyeless on forever; +And he, poor parasite, +Cooped in a ship he cannot steer,-- +Who is the captain he knows not, +Port or pilot trows not,-- +Risk or ruin he must share. +I scowl on him with my cloud, +With my north wind chill his blood; +I lame him, clattering down the rocks; +And to live he is in fear. +Then, at last, I let him down +Once more into his dapper town, +To chatter, frightened, to his clan +And forget me if he can.' + +As in the old poetic fame +The gods are blind and lame, +And the simular despite +Betrays the more abounding might, +So call not waste that barren cone +Above the floral zone, +Where forests starve: +It is pure use;-- +What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind +Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse? + +Ages are thy days, +Thou grand affirmer of the present tense, +And type of permanence! +Firm ensign of the fatal Being, +Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief, +That will not bide the seeing! + +Hither we bring +Our insect miseries to thy rocks; +And the whole flight, with folded wing, +Vanish, and end their murmuring,-- +Vanish beside these dedicated blocks, +Which who can tell what mason laid? +Spoils of a front none need restore, +Replacing frieze and architrave;-- +Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave; +Still is the haughty pile erect +Of the old building Intellect. + +Complement of human kind, +Holding us at vantage still, +Our sumptuous indigence, +O barren mound, thy plenties fill! +We fool and prate; +Thou art silent and sedate. +To myriad kinds and times one sense +The constant mountain doth dispense; +Shedding on all its snows and leaves, +One joy it joys, one grief it grieves. +Thou seest, O watchman tall, +Our towns and races grow and fall, +And imagest the stable good +For which we all our lifetime grope, +In shifting form the formless mind, +And though the substance us elude, +We in thee the shadow find. +Thou, in our astronomy +An opaker star, +Seen haply from afar, +Above the horizon's hoop, +A moment, by the railway troop, +As o'er some bolder height they speed,-- +By circumspect ambition, +By errant gain, +By feasters and the frivolous,-- +Recallest us, +And makest sane. +Mute orator! well skilled to plead, +And send conviction without phrase, +Thou dost succor and remede +The shortness of our days, +And promise, on thy Founder's truth, +Long morrow to this mortal youth. + + + +FABLE + +The mountain and the squirrel +Had a quarrel, +And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; +Bun replied, +'You are doubtless very big; +But all sorts of things and weather +Must be taken in together, +To make up a year +And a sphere. +And I think it no disgrace +To occupy my place. +If I'm not so large as you, +You are not so small as I, +And not half so spry. +I'll not deny you make +A very pretty squirrel track; +Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; +If I cannot carry forests on my back, +Neither can you crack a nut.' + + + +ODE + +INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING + +Though loath to grieve +The evil time's sole patriot, +I cannot leave +My honied thought +For the priest's cant, +Or statesman's rant. + +If I refuse +My study for their politique, +Which at the best is trick, +The angry Muse +Puts confusion in my brain. + +But who is he that prates +Of the culture of mankind, +Of better arts and life? +Go, blindworm, go, +Behold the famous States +Harrying Mexico +With rifle and with knife! + +Or who, with accent bolder, +Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer? +I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook! +And in thy valleys, Agiochook! +The jackals of the negro-holder. + +The God who made New Hampshire +Taunted the lofty land +With little men;-- +Small bat and wren +House in the oak:-- +If earth-fire cleave +The upheaved land, and bury the folk, +The southern crocodile would grieve. +Virtue palters; Right is hence; +Freedom praised, but hid; +Funeral eloquence +Rattles the coffin-lid. + +What boots thy zeal, +O glowing friend, +That would indignant rend +The northland from the south? +Wherefore? to what good end? +Boston Bay and Bunker Hill +Would serve things still;-- +Things are of the snake. + +The horseman serves the horse, +The neatherd serves the neat, +The merchant serves the purse, +The eater serves his meat; +'T is the day of the chattel, +Web to weave, and corn to grind; +Things are in the saddle, +And ride mankind. + +There are two laws discrete, +Not reconciled,-- +Law for man, and law for thing; +The last builds town and fleet, +But it runs wild, +And doth the man unking. + +'T is fit the forest fall, +The steep be graded, +The mountain tunnelled, +The sand shaded, +The orchard planted, +The glebe tilled, +The prairie granted, +The steamer built. + +Let man serve law for man; +Live for friendship, live for love, +For truth's and harmony's behoof; +The state may follow how it can, +As Olympus follows Jove. + + Yet do not I implore +The wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods, +Nor bid the unwilling senator +Ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes. +Every one to his chosen work;-- +Foolish hands may mix and mar; +Wise and sure the issues are. +Round they roll till dark is light, +Sex to sex, and even to odd;-- +The over-god +Who marries Right to Might, +Who peoples, unpeoples,-- +He who exterminates +Races by stronger races, +Black by white faces,-- +Knows to bring honey +Out of the lion; +Grafts gentlest scion +On pirate and Turk. + +The Cossack eats Poland, +Like stolen fruit; +Her last noble is ruined, +Her last poet mute: +Straight, into double band +The victors divide; +Half for freedom strike and stand;-- +The astonished Muse finds thousands at her side. + + + +ASTRAEA + +Each the herald is who wrote +His rank, and quartered his own coat. +There is no king nor sovereign state +That can fix a hero's rate; +Each to all is venerable, +Cap-a-pie invulnerable, +Until he write, where all eyes rest, +Slave or master on his breast. +I saw men go up and down, +In the country and the town, +With this tablet on their neck, +'Judgment and a judge we seek.' +Not to monarchs they repair, +Nor to learned jurist's chair; +But they hurry to their peers, +To their kinsfolk and their dears; +Louder than with speech they pray,-- +'What am I? companion, say.' +And the friend not hesitates +To assign just place and mates; +Answers not in word or letter, +Yet is understood the better; +Each to each a looking-glass, +Reflects his figure that doth pass. +Every wayfarer he meets +What himself declared repeats, +What himself confessed records, +Sentences him in his words; +The form is his own corporal form, +And his thought the penal worm. +Yet shine forever virgin minds, +Loved by stars and purest winds, +Which, o'er passion throned sedate, +Have not hazarded their state; +Disconcert the searching spy, +Rendering to a curious eye +The durance of a granite ledge. +To those who gaze from the sea's edge +It is there for benefit; +It is there for purging light; +There for purifying storms; +And its depths reflect all forms; +It cannot parley with the mean,-- +Pure by impure is not seen. +For there's no sequestered grot, +Lone mountain tarn, or isle forgot, +But Justice, journeying in the sphere, +Daily stoops to harbor there. + + + +ETIENNE DE LA BOECE + +I serve you not, if you I follow, +Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; +And bend my fancy to your leading, +All too nimble for my treading. +When the pilgrimage is done, +And we've the landscape overrun, +I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, +And your heart is unsupported. +Vainly valiant, you have missed +The manhood that should yours resist,-- +Its complement; but if I could, +In severe or cordial mood, +Lead you rightly to my altar, +Where the wisest Muses falter, +And worship that world-warming spark +Which dazzles me in midnight dark, +Equalizing small and large, +While the soul it doth surcharge, +Till the poor is wealthy grown, +And the hermit never alone,-- +The traveller and the road seem one +With the errand to be done,-- +That were a man's and lover's part, +That were Freedom's whitest chart. + + + +COMPENSATION + +Why should I keep holiday + When other men have none? +Why but because, when these are gay, + I sit and mourn alone? + +And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, + Should mine alone be dumb? +Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, + And now their hour is come. + + + +FORBEARANCE + +Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? +Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? +At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? +Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? +And loved so well a high behavior, +In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, +Nobility more nobly to repay? +O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! + + + +THE PARK + +The prosperous and beautiful + To me seem not to wear +The yoke of conscience masterful, + Which galls me everywhere. + +I cannot shake off the god; + On my neck he makes his seat; +I look at my face in the glass,-- + My eyes his eyeballs meet. + +Enchanters! Enchantresses! + Your gold makes you seem wise; +The morning mist within your grounds + More proudly rolls, more softly lies. + +Yet spake yon purple mountain, + Yet said yon ancient wood, +That Night or Day, that Love or Crime, + Leads all souls to the Good. + + + +FORERUNNERS + +Long I followed happy guides, +I could never reach their sides; +Their step is forth, and, ere the day +Breaks up their leaguer, and away. +Keen my sense, my heart was young, +Right good-will my sinews strung, +But no speed of mine avails +To hunt upon their shining trails. +On and away, their hasting feet +Make the morning proud and sweet; +Flowers they strew,--I catch the scent; +Or tone of silver instrument +Leaves on the wind melodious trace; +Yet I could never see their face. +On eastern hills I see their smokes, +Mixed with mist by distant lochs. +I met many travellers +Who the road had surely kept; +They saw not my fine revellers,-- +These had crossed them while they slept. +Some had heard their fair report, +In the country or the court. +Fleetest couriers alive +Never yet could once arrive, +As they went or they returned, +At the house where these sojourned. +Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, +Though they are not overtaken; +In sleep their jubilant troop is near,-- +I tuneful voices overhear; +It may be in wood or waste,-- +At unawares 't is come and past. +Their near camp my spirit knows +By signs gracious as rainbows. +I thenceforward and long after +Listen for their harp-like laughter, +And carry in my heart, for days, +Peace that hallows rudest ways. + + + +SURSUM CORDA + +Seek not the spirit, if it hide +Inexorable to thy zeal: +Trembler, do not whine and chide: +Art thou not also real? +Stoop not then to poor excuse; +Turn on the accuser roundly; say, +'Here am I, here will I abide +Forever to myself soothfast; +Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' +Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast, +For only it can absolutely deal. + + + +ODE TO BEAUTY + +Who gave thee, O Beauty, +The keys of this breast,-- +Too credulous lover +Of blest and unblest? +Say, when in lapsed ages +Thee knew I of old? +Or what was the service +For which I was sold? +When first my eyes saw thee, +I found me thy thrall, +By magical drawings, +Sweet tyrant of all! +I drank at thy fountain +False waters of thirst; +Thou intimate stranger, +Thou latest and first! +Thy dangerous glances +Make women of men; +New-born, we are melting +Into nature again. + +Lavish, lavish promiser, +Nigh persuading gods to err! +Guest of million painted forms, +Which in turn thy glory warms! +The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, +The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, +The swinging spider's silver line, +The ruby of the drop of wine, +The shining pebble of the pond, +Thou inscribest with a bond, +In thy momentary play, +Would bankrupt nature to repay. + +Ah, what avails it +To hide or to shun +Whom the Infinite One +Hath granted his throne? +The heaven high over +Is the deep's lover; +The sun and sea, +Informed by thee, +Before me run +And draw me on, +Yet fly me still, +As Fate refuses +To me the heart Fate for me chooses. +Is it that my opulent soul +Was mingled from the generous whole; +Sea-valleys and the deep of skies +Furnished several supplies; +And the sands whereof I'm made +Draw me to them, self-betrayed? + +I turn the proud portfolio +Which holds the grand designs +Of Salvator, of Guercino, +And Piranesi's lines. +I hear the lofty paeans +Of the masters of the shell, +Who heard the starry music +And recount the numbers well; +Olympian bards who sung +Divine Ideas below, +Which always find us young +And always keep us so. +Oft, in streets or humblest places, +I detect far-wandered graces, +Which, from Eden wide astray, +In lowly homes have lost their way. + +Thee gliding through the sea of form, +Like the lightning through the storm, +Somewhat not to be possessed, +Somewhat not to be caressed, +No feet so fleet could ever find, +No perfect form could ever bind. +Thou eternal fugitive, +Hovering over all that live, +Quick and skilful to inspire +Sweet, extravagant desire, +Starry space and lily-bell +Filling with thy roseate smell, +Wilt not give the lips to taste +Of the nectar which thou hast. + +All that's good and great with thee +Works in close conspiracy; +Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely +To report thy features only, +And the cold and purple morning +Itself with thoughts of thee adorning; +The leafy dell, the city mart, +Equal trophies of thine art; +E'en the flowing azure air +Thou hast touched for my despair; +And, if I languish into dreams, +Again I meet the ardent beams. +Queen of things! I dare not die +In Being's deeps past ear and eye; +Lest there I find the same deceiver +And be the sport of Fate forever. +Dread Power, but dear! if God thou be, +Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me! + + + +GIVE ALL TO LOVE + +Give all to love; +Obey thy heart; +Friends, kindred, days, +Estate, good-fame, +Plans, credit and the Muse,-- +Nothing refuse. + +'T is a brave master; +Let it have scope: +Follow it utterly, +Hope beyond hope: +High and more high +It dives into noon, +With wing unspent, +Untold intent; +But it is a god, +Knows its own path +And the outlets of the sky. + +It was never for the mean; +It requireth courage stout. +Souls above doubt, +Valor unbending, +It will reward,-- +They shall return +More than they were, +And ever ascending. + +Leave all for love; +Yet, hear me, yet, +One word more thy heart behoved, +One pulse more of firm endeavor,-- +Keep thee to-day, +To-morrow, forever, +Free as an Arab +Of thy beloved. + +Cling with life to the maid; +But when the surprise, +First vague shadow of surmise +Flits across her bosom young, +Of a joy apart from thee, +Free be she, fancy-free; +Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, +Nor the palest rose she flung +From her summer diadem. + +Though thou loved her as thyself, +As a self of purer clay, +Though her parting dims the day, +Stealing grace from all alive; +Heartily know, +When half-gods go. +The gods arrive. + + + +TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH + +The green grass is bowing, + The morning wind is in it; +'T is a tune worth thy knowing, + Though it change every minute. + +'T is a tune of the Spring; + Every year plays it over +To the robin on the wing, + And to the pausing lover. + +O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, + Goes light the nimble zephyr; +The Flowers--tiny sect of Shakers-- + Worship him ever. + +Hark to the winning sound! + They summon thee, dearest,-- +Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, + Nor yet thou appearest. + +'O hasten;' 't is our time, + Ere yet the red Summer +Scorch our delicate prime, + Loved of bee,--the tawny hummer. + +'O pride of thy race! + Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, +If our brief tribe miss thy face, + We poor New England flowers. + +'Fairest, choose the fairest members + Of our lithe society; +June's glories and September's + Show our love and piety. + +'Thou shalt command us all,-- + April's cowslip, summer's clover, +To the gentian in the fall, + Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. + +'O come, then, quickly come! + We are budding, we are blowing; +And the wind that we perfume + Sings a tune that's worth the knowing.' + + + +TO ELLEN + +And Ellen, when the graybeard years + Have brought us to life's evening hour, +And all the crowded Past appears + A tiny scene of sun and shower, + +Then, if I read the page aright + Where Hope, the soothsayer, reads our lot, +Thyself shalt own the page was bright, + Well that we loved, woe had we not, + +When Mirth is dumb and Flattery's fled, + And mute thy music's dearest tone, +When all but Love itself is dead + And all but deathless Reason gone. + + + +TO EVA + +O fair and stately maid, whose eyes +Were kindled in the upper skies + At the same torch that lighted mine; +For so I must interpret still +Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, + A sympathy divine. + +Ah! let me blameless gaze upon +Features that seem at heart my own; + Nor fear those watchful sentinels, +Who charm the more their glance forbids, +Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, + With fire that draws while it repels. + + + +LINES + +WRITTEN BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER SHORTLY BEFORE +HER MARRIAGE TO MR. EMERSON + +Love scatters oil + On Life's dark sea, +Sweetens its toil-- + Our helmsman he. + +Around him hover + Odorous clouds; +Under this cover + His arrows he shrouds. + +The cloud was around me, + I knew not why +Such sweetness crowned me. + While Time shot by. + +No pain was within, + But calm delight, +Like a world without sin, + Or a day without night. + +The shafts of the god + Were tipped with down, +For they drew no blood, + And they knit no frown. + +I knew of them not + Until Cupid laughed loud, +And saying "You're caught!" + Flew off in the cloud. + +O then I awoke, + And I lived but to sigh, +Till a clear voice spoke,-- + And my tears are dry. + + + +THE VIOLET + +BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER + +Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; +Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; +Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, +Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? + +Why wilt thou live when none around reflects thy pensive ray? +Thou bloomest here a lonely thing in the clear autumn day. +The tall green trees, that shelter thee, their last gay dress put on; +There will be nought to shelter thee when their sweet leaves are gone. + +O Violet, like thee, how blest could I lie down and die, +When summer light is fading, and autumn breezes sigh; +When Winter reigned I'd close my eye, but wake with bursting Spring, +And live with living nature, a pure rejoicing thing. + +I had a sister once who seemed just like a violet; +Her morning sun shone bright and calmly purely set; +When the violets were in their shrouds, and Summer in its pride, +She laid her hopes at rest, and in the year's rich beauty died. + + + +THE AMULET + +Your picture smiles as first it smiled; + The ring you gave is still the same; +Your letter tells, O changing child! + No tidings _since_ it came. + +Give me an amulet + That keeps intelligence with you,-- +Red when you love, and rosier red, + And when you love not, pale and blue. + +Alas! that neither bonds nor vows + Can certify possession; +Torments me still the fear that love + Died in its last expression. + + + +THINE EYES STILL SHINED + +Thine eyes still shined for me, though far + I lonely roved the land or sea: +As I behold yon evening star, + Which yet beholds not me. + +This morn I climbed the misty hill + And roamed the pastures through; +How danced thy form before my path + Amidst the deep-eyed dew! + +When the redbird spread his sable wing, + And showed his side of flame; +When the rosebud ripened to the rose, + In both I read thy name. + + + +EROS + +The sense of the world is short,-- +Long and various the report,-- + To love and be beloved; +Men and gods have not outlearned it; +And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, + Not to be improved. + + + +HERMIONE + +On a mound an Arab lay, +And sung his sweet regrets +And told his amulets: +The summer bird +His sorrow heard, +And, when he heaved a sigh profound, +The sympathetic swallow swept the ground. + +'If it be, as they said, she was not fair, +Beauty's not beautiful to me, +But sceptred genius, aye inorbed, +Culminating in her sphere. +This Hermione absorbed +The lustre of the land and ocean, +Hills and islands, cloud and tree, +In her form and motion. + +'I ask no bauble miniature, +Nor ringlets dead +Shorn from her comely head, +Now that morning not disdains +Mountains and the misty plains +Her colossal portraiture; +They her heralds be, +Steeped in her quality, +And singers of her fame +Who is their Muse and dame. + +'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say. +Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, +Say, was it just, +In thee to frame, in me to trust, +Thou to the Syrian couldst belong? + +'I am of a lineage +That each for each doth fast engage; +In old Bassora's schools, I seemed +Hermit vowed to books and gloom,-- +Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom. +I was by thy touch redeemed; +When thy meteor glances came, +We talked at large of worldly fate, +And drew truly every trait. + +'Once I dwelt apart, +Now I live with all; +As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side +Seems, by the traveller espied, +A door into the mountain heart, +So didst thou quarry and unlock +Highways for me through the rock. + +'Now, deceived, thou wanderest +In strange lands unblest; +And my kindred come to soothe me. +Southwind is my next of blood; +He is come through fragrant wood, +Drugged with spice from climates warm, +And in every twinkling glade, +And twilight nook, +Unveils thy form. +Out of the forest way +Forth paced it yesterday; +And when I sat by the watercourse, +Watching the daylight fade, +It throbbed up from the brook. + +'River and rose and crag and bird, +Frost and sun and eldest night, +To me their aid preferred, +To me their comfort plight;-- +"Courage! we are thine allies, +And with this hint be wise,-- +The chains of kind +The distant bind; +Deed thou doest she must do, +Above her will, be true; +And, in her strict resort +To winds and waterfalls +And autumn's sunlit festivals, +To music, and to music's thought, +Inextricably bound, +She shall find thee, and be found. +Follow not her flying feet; +Come to us herself to meet."' + + + +INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE + +I. THE INITIAL LOVE + +Venus, when her son was lost, +Cried him up and down the coast, +In hamlets, palaces and parks, +And told the truant by his marks,-- +Golden curls, and quiver and bow. +This befell how long ago! +Time and tide are strangely changed, +Men and manners much deranged: +None will now find Cupid latent +By this foolish antique patent. +He came late along the waste, +Shod like a traveller for haste; +With malice dared me to proclaim him, +That the maids and boys might name him. + +Boy no more, he wears all coats, +Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; +He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, +Nor chaplet on his head or hand. +Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,-- +All the rest he can disguise. +In the pit of his eye's a spark +Would bring back day if it were dark; +And, if I tell you all my thought, +Though I comprehend it not, +In those unfathomable orbs +Every function he absorbs; +Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, +And write, and reason, and compute, +And ride, and run, and have, and hold, +And whine, and flatter, and regret, +And kiss, and couple, and beget, +By those roving eyeballs bold. + +Undaunted are their courages, +Right Cossacks in their forages; +Fleeter they than any creature,-- +They are his steeds, and not his feature; +Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, +Restless, predatory, hasting; +And they pounce on other eyes +As lions on their prey; +And round their circles is writ, +Plainer than the day, +Underneath, within, above,-- +Love--love--love--love. +He lives in his eyes; +There doth digest, and work, and spin, +And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; +He rolls them with delighted motion, +Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean. +Yet holds he them with tautest rein, +That they may seize and entertain +The glance that to their glance opposes, +Like fiery honey sucked from roses. +He palmistry can understand, +Imbibing virtue by his hand +As if it were a living root; +The pulse of hands will make him mute; +With all his force he gathers balms +Into those wise, thrilling palms. + +Cupid is a casuist, +A mystic and a cabalist,-- +Can your lurking thought surprise, +And interpret your device. +He is versed in occult science, +In magic and in clairvoyance, +Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, +And Reason on her tiptoe pained +For aery intelligence, +And for strange coincidence. +But it touches his quick heart +When Fate by omens takes his part, +And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere +Deeply soothe his anxious ear. + +Heralds high before him run; +He has ushers many a one; +He spreads his welcome where he goes, +And touches all things with his rose. +All things wait for and divine him,-- +How shall I dare to malign him, +Or accuse the god of sport? +I must end my true report, +Painting him from head to foot, +In as far as I took note, +Trusting well the matchless power +Of this young-eyed emperor +Will clear his fame from every cloud +With the bards and with the crowd. + +He is wilful, mutable, +Shy, untamed, inscrutable, +Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. +Substance mixed of pure contraries; +His vice some elder virtue's token, +And his good is evil-spoken. +Failing sometimes of his own, +He is headstrong and alone; +He affects the wood and wild, +Like a flower-hunting child; +Buries himself in summer waves, +In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, +Loves nature like a horned cow, +Bird, or deer, or caribou. + +Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses! +He has a total world of wit; +O how wise are his discourses! +But he is the arch-hypocrite, +And, through all science and all art, +Seeks alone his counterpart. +He is a Pundit of the East, +He is an augur and a priest, +And his soul will melt in prayer, +But word and wisdom is a snare; +Corrupted by the present toy +He follows joy, and only joy. +There is no mask but he will wear; +He invented oaths to swear; +He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, +And holds all stars in his embrace. +He takes a sovran privilege +Not allowed to any liege; +For Cupid goes behind all law, +And right into himself does draw; +For he is sovereignly allied,-- +Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,-- +And interchangeably at one +With every king on every throne, +That no god dare say him nay, +Or see the fault, or seen betray; +He has the Muses by the heart, +And the stern Parcae on his part. + +His many signs cannot be told; +He has not one mode, but manifold, +Many fashions and addresses, +Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses. +He will preach like a friar, +And jump like Harlequin; +He will read like a crier, +And fight like a Paladin. +Boundless is his memory; +Plans immense his term prolong; +He is not of counted age, +Meaning always to be young. +And his wish is intimacy, +Intimater intimacy, +And a stricter privacy; +The impossible shall yet be done, +And, being two, shall still be one. +As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, +Then runs into a wave again, +So lovers melt their sundered selves, +Yet melted would be twain. + + + +II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE + +Man was made of social earth, +Child and brother from his birth, +Tethered by a liquid cord +Of blood through veins of kindred poured. +Next his heart the fireside band +Of mother, father, sister, stand; +Names from awful childhood heard +Throbs of a wild religion stirred;-- +Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; +Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, +Till Beauty came to snap all ties; +The maid, abolishing the past, +With lotus wine obliterates +Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, +And, by herself, supplants alone +Friends year by year more inly known. +When her calm eyes opened bright, +All else grew foreign in their light. +It was ever the self-same tale, +The first experience will not fail; +Only two in the garden walked, +And with snake and seraph talked. + +Close, close to men, +Like undulating layer of air, +Right above their heads, +The potent plain of Daemons spreads. +Stands to each human soul its own, +For watch and ward and furtherance, +In the snares of Nature's dance; +And the lustre and the grace +To fascinate each youthful heart, +Beaming from its counterpart, +Translucent through the mortal covers, +Is the Daemon's form and face. +To and fro the Genius hies,-- +A gleam which plays and hovers +Over the maiden's head, +And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. +Unknown, albeit lying near, +To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; +And they that swiftly come and go +Leave no track on the heavenly snow. +Sometimes the airy synod bends, +And the mighty choir descends, +And the brains of men thenceforth, +In crowded and in still resorts, +Teem with unwonted thoughts: +As, when a shower of meteors +Cross the orbit of the earth, +And, lit by fringent air, +Blaze near and far, +Mortals deem the planets bright +Have slipped their sacred bars, +And the lone seaman all the night +Sails, astonished, amid stars. + +Beauty of a richer vein, +Graces of a subtler strain, +Unto men these moonmen lend, +And our shrinking sky extend. +So is man's narrow path +By strength and terror skirted; +Also (from the song the wrath +Of the Genii be averted! +The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) +The Daemons are self-seeking: +Their fierce and limitary will +Draws men to their likeness still. +The erring painter made Love blind,-- +Highest Love who shines on all; +Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted god, +None can bewilder; +Whose eyes pierce +The universe, +Path-finder, road-builder, +Mediator, royal giver; +Rightly seeing, rightly seen, +Of joyful and transparent mien. +'T is a sparkle passing +From each to each, from thee to me, +To and fro perpetually; +Sharing all, daring all, +Levelling, displacing +Each obstruction, it unites +Equals remote, and seeming opposites. +And ever and forever Love +Delights to build a road: +Unheeded Danger near him strides, +Love laughs, and on a lion rides. +But Cupid wears another face, +Born into Daemons less divine: +His roses bleach apace, +His nectar smacks of wine. +The Daemon ever builds a wall, +Himself encloses and includes, +Solitude in solitudes: +In like sort his love doth fall. +He doth elect +The beautiful and fortunate, +And the sons of intellect, +And the souls of ample fate, +Who the Future's gates unbar,-- +Minions of the Morning Star. +In his prowess he exults, +And the multitude insults. +His impatient looks devour +Oft the humble and the poor; +And, seeing his eye glare, +They drop their few pale flowers, +Gathered with hope to please, +Along the mountain towers,-- +Lose courage, and despair. +He will never be gainsaid,-- +Pitiless, will not be stayed; +His hot tyranny +Burns up every other tie. +Therefore comes an hour from Jove +Which his ruthless will defies, +And the dogs of Fate unties. +Shiver the palaces of glass; +Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, +Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt +Secure as in the zodiac's belt; +And the galleries and halls, +Wherein every siren sung, +Like a meteor pass. +For this fortune wanted root +In the core of God's abysm,-- +Was a weed of self and schism; +And ever the Daemonic Love +Is the ancestor of wars +And the parent of remorse. + + + +III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE + +But God said, +'I will have a purer gift; +There is smoke in the flame; +New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, +And love without a name. +Fond children, ye desire +To please each other well; +Another round, a higher, +Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, +And selfish preference forbear; +And in right deserving, +And without a swerving +Each from your proper state, +Weave roses for your mate. + +'Deep, deep are loving eyes, +Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet; +And the point is paradise, +Where their glances meet: +Their reach shall yet be more profound, +And a vision without bound: +The axis of those eyes sun-clear +Be the axis of the sphere: +So shall the lights ye pour amain +Go, without check or intervals, +Through from the empyrean walls +Unto the same again.' + +Higher far into the pure realm, +Over sun and star, +Over the flickering Daemon film, +Thou must mount for love; +Into vision where all form +In one only form dissolves; +In a region where the wheel +On which all beings ride +Visibly revolves; +Where the starred, eternal worm +Girds the world with bound and term; +Where unlike things are like; +Where good and ill, +And joy and moan, +Melt into one. + +There Past, Present, Future, shoot +Triple blossoms from one root; +Substances at base divided, +In their summits are united; +There the holy essence rolls, +One through separated souls; +And the sunny Aeon sleeps +Folding Nature in its deeps, +And every fair and every good, +Known in part, or known impure, +To men below, +In their archetypes endure. +The race of gods, +Or those we erring own, +Are shadows flitting up and down +In the still abodes. +The circles of that sea are laws +Which publish and which hide the cause. + +Pray for a beam +Out of that sphere, +Thee to guide and to redeem. +O, what a load +Of care and toil, +By lying use bestowed, +From his shoulders falls who sees +The true astronomy, +The period of peace. +Counsel which the ages kept +Shall the well-born soul accept. +As the overhanging trees +Fill the lake with images,-- +As garment draws the garment's hem, +Men their fortunes bring with them. +By right or wrong, +Lands and goods go to the strong. +Property will brutely draw +Still to the proprietor; +Silver to silver creep and wind, +And kind to kind. + +Nor less the eternal poles +Of tendency distribute souls. +There need no vows to bind +Whom not each other seek, but find. +They give and take no pledge or oath,-- +Nature is the bond of both: +No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,-- +Their noble meanings are their pawns. +Plain and cold is their address, +Power have they for tenderness; +And, so thoroughly is known +Each other's counsel by his own, +They can parley without meeting; +Need is none of forms of greeting; +They can well communicate +In their innermost estate; +When each the other shall avoid, +Shall each by each be most enjoyed. + +Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves +Do these celebrate their loves: +Not by jewels, feasts and savors, +Not by ribbons or by favors, +But by the sun-spark on the sea, +And the cloud-shadow on the lea, +The soothing lapse of morn to mirk, +And the cheerful round of work. +Their cords of love so public are, +They intertwine the farthest star: +The throbbing sea, the quaking earth, +Yield sympathy and signs of mirth; +Is none so high, so mean is none, +But feels and seals this union; +Even the fell Furies are appeased, +The good applaud, the lost are eased. + +Love's hearts are faithful, but not fond, +Bound for the just, but not beyond; +Not glad, as the low-loving herd, +Of self in other still preferred, +But they have heartily designed +The benefit of broad mankind. +And they serve men austerely, +After their own genius, clearly, +Without a false humility; +For this is Love's nobility,-- +Not to scatter bread and gold, +Goods and raiment bought and sold; +But to hold fast his simple sense, +And speak the speech of innocence, +And with hand and body and blood, +To make his bosom-counsel good. +He that feeds men serveth few; +He serves all who dares be true. + + + +THE APOLOGY + +Think me not unkind and rude + That I walk alone in grove and glen; +I go to the god of the wood + To fetch his word to men. + +Tax not my sloth that I + Fold my arms beside the brook; +Each cloud that floated in the sky + Writes a letter in my book. + +Chide me not, laborious band, + For the idle flowers I brought; +Every aster in my hand + Goes home loaded with a thought. + +There was never mystery + But 'tis figured in the flowers; +Was never secret history + But birds tell it in the bowers. + +One harvest from thy field + Homeward brought the oxen strong; +A second crop thine acres yield, + Which I gather in a song. + + + +MERLIN I + +Thy trivial harp will never please +Or fill my craving ear; +Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, +Free, peremptory, clear. +No jingling serenader's art, +Nor tinkle of piano strings, +Can make the wild blood start +In its mystic springs. +The kingly bard +Must smite the chords rudely and hard, +As with hammer or with mace; +That they may render back +Artful thunder, which conveys +Secrets of the solar track, +Sparks of the supersolar blaze. +Merlin's blows are strokes of fate, +Chiming with the forest tone, +When boughs buffet boughs in the wood; +Chiming with the gasp and moan +Of the ice-imprisoned flood; +With the pulse of manly hearts; +With the voice of orators; +With the din of city arts; +With the cannonade of wars; +With the marches of the brave; +And prayers of might from martyrs' cave. + +Great is the art, +Great be the manners, of the bard. +He shall not his brain encumber +With the coil of rhythm and number; +But, leaving rule and pale forethought, +He shall aye climb +For his rhyme. +'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, +'In to the upper doors, +Nor count compartments of the floors, +But mount to paradise +By the stairway of surprise.' + +Blameless master of the games, +King of sport that never shames, +He shall daily joy dispense +Hid in song's sweet influence. +Forms more cheerly live and go, +What time the subtle mind +Sings aloud the tune whereto +Their pulses beat, +And march their feet, +And their members are combined. + +By Sybarites beguiled, +He shall no task decline; +Merlin's mighty line +Extremes of nature reconciled,-- +Bereaved a tyrant of his will, +And made the lion mild. +Songs can the tempest still, +Scattered on the stormy air, +Mould the year to fair increase, +And bring in poetic peace. + +He shall not seek to weave, +In weak, unhappy times, +Efficacious rhymes; +Wait his returning strength. +Bird that from the nadir's floor +To the zenith's top can soar,-- +The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's length. +Nor profane affect to hit +Or compass that, by meddling wit, +Which only the propitious mind +Publishes when 't is inclined. +There are open hours +When the God's will sallies free, +And the dull idiot might see +The flowing fortunes of a thousand years;-- +Sudden, at unawares, +Self-moved, fly-to the doors. +Nor sword of angels could reveal +What they conceal. + + + +MERLIN II + +The rhyme of the poet +Modulates the king's affairs; +Balance-loving Nature +Made all things in pairs. +To every foot its antipode; +Each color with its counter glowed; +To every tone beat answering tones, +Higher or graver; +Flavor gladly blends with flavor; +Leaf answers leaf upon the bough; +And match the paired cotyledons. +Hands to hands, and feet to feet, +In one body grooms and brides; +Eldest rite, two married sides +In every mortal meet. +Light's far furnace shines, +Smelting balls and bars, +Forging double stars, +Glittering twins and trines. +The animals are sick with love, +Lovesick with rhyme; +Each with all propitious Time +Into chorus wove. + +Like the dancers' ordered band, +Thoughts come also hand in hand; +In equal couples mated, +Or else alternated; +Adding by their mutual gage, +One to other, health and age. +Solitary fancies go +Short-lived wandering to and fro, +Most like to bachelors, +Or an ungiven maid, +Not ancestors, +With no posterity to make the lie afraid, +Or keep truth undecayed. +Perfect-paired as eagle's wings, +Justice is the rhyme of things; +Trade and counting use +The self-same tuneful muse; +And Nemesis, +Who with even matches odd, +Who athwart space redresses +The partial wrong, +Fills the just period, +And finishes the song. + +Subtle rhymes, with ruin rife, +Murmur in the house of life, +Sung by the Sisters as they spin; +In perfect time and measure they +Build and unbuild our echoing clay. +As the two twilights of the day +Fold us music-drunken in. + + + +BACCHUS + +Bring me wine, but wine which never grew +In the belly of the grape, +Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through, +Under the Andes to the Cape, +Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. + +Let its grapes the morn salute +From a nocturnal root, +Which feels the acrid juice +Of Styx and Erebus; +And turns the woe of Night, +By its own craft, to a more rich delight. + +We buy ashes for bread; +We buy diluted wine; +Give me of the true,-- +Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled +Among the silver hills of heaven +Draw everlasting dew; +Wine of wine, +Blood of the world, +Form of forms, and mould of statures, +That I intoxicated, +And by the draught assimilated, +May float at pleasure through all natures; +The bird-language rightly spell, +And that which roses say so well. + +Wine that is shed +Like the torrents of the sun +Up the horizon walls, +Or like the Atlantic streams, which run +When the South Sea calls. + +Water and bread, +Food which needs no transmuting, +Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, +Wine which is already man, +Food which teach and reason can. + +Wine which Music is,-- +Music and wine are one,-- +That I, drinking this, +Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; +Kings unborn shall walk with me; +And the poor grass shall plot and plan +What it will do when it is man. +Quickened so, will I unlock +Every crypt of every rock. + +I thank the joyful juice +For all I know;-- +Winds of remembering +Of the ancient being blow, +And seeming-solid walls of use +Open and flow. + +Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; +Retrieve the loss of me and mine! +Vine for vine be antidote, +And the grape requite the lote! +Haste to cure the old despair,-- +Reason in Nature's lotus drenched, +The memory of ages quenched; +Give them again to shine; +Let wine repair what this undid; +And where the infection slid, +A dazzling memory revive; +Refresh the faded tints, +Recut the aged prints, +And write my old adventures with the pen +Which on the first day drew, +Upon the tablets blue, +The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. + + + +MEROPS + +What care I, so they stand the same,-- + Things of the heavenly mind,-- +How long the power to give them name + Tarries yet behind? + +Thus far to-day your favors reach, + O fair, appeasing presences! +Ye taught my lips a single speech, + And a thousand silences. + +Space grants beyond his fated road + No inch to the god of day; +And copious language still bestowed + One word, no more, to say. + + + +THE HOUSE + +There is no architect + Can build as the Muse can; +She is skilful to select + Materials for her plan; + +Slow and warily to choose + Rafters of immortal pine, +Or cedar incorruptible, + Worthy her design, + +She threads dark Alpine forests + Or valleys by the sea, +In many lands, with painful steps, + Ere she can find a tree. + +She ransacks mines and ledges + And quarries every rock, +To hew the famous adamant + For each eternal block-- + +She lays her beams in music, + In music every one, +To the cadence of the whirling world + Which dances round the sun-- + +That so they shall not be displaced + By lapses or by wars, +But for the love of happy souls + Outlive the newest stars. + + + +SAADI + +Trees in groves, +Kine in droves, +In ocean sport the scaly herds, +Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, +To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, +Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, +Men consort in camp and town, +But the poet dwells alone. + +God, who gave to him the lyre, +Of all mortals the desire, +For all breathing men's behoof, +Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;' +Annexed a warning, poets say, +To the bright premium,-- +Ever, when twain together play, +Shall the harp be dumb. + +Many may come, +But one shall sing; +Two touch the string, +The harp is dumb. +Though there come a million, +Wise Saadi dwells alone. + +Yet Saadi loved the race of men,-- +No churl, immured in cave or den; +In bower and hall +He wants them all, +Nor can dispense +With Persia for his audience; +They must give ear, +Grow red with joy and white with fear; +But he has no companion; +Come ten, or come a million, +Good Saadi dwells alone. + +Be thou ware where Saadi dwells; +Wisdom of the gods is he,-- +Entertain it reverently. +Gladly round that golden lamp +Sylvan deities encamp, +And simple maids and noble youth +Are welcome to the man of truth. +Most welcome they who need him most, +They feed the spring which they exhaust; +For greater need +Draws better deed: +But, critic, spare thy vanity, +Nor show thy pompous parts, +To vex with odious subtlety +The cheerer of men's hearts. + +Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say +Endless dirges to decay, +Never in the blaze of light +Lose the shudder of midnight; +Pale at overflowing noon +Hear wolves barking at the moon; +In the bower of dalliance sweet +Hear the far Avenger's feet: +And shake before those awful Powers, +Who in their pride forgive not ours. +Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach: +'Bard, when thee would Allah teach, +And lift thee to his holy mount, +He sends thee from his bitter fount +Wormwood,--saying, "Go thy ways; +Drink not the Malaga of praise, +But do the deed thy fellows hate, +And compromise thy peaceful state; +Smite the white breasts which thee fed. +Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head +Of them thou shouldst have comforted; +For out of woe and out of crime +Draws the heart a lore sublime."' +And yet it seemeth not to me +That the high gods love tragedy; +For Saadi sat in the sun, +And thanks was his contrition; +For haircloth and for bloody whips, +Had active hands and smiling lips; +And yet his runes he rightly read, +And to his folk his message sped. +Sunshine in his heart transferred +Lighted each transparent word, +And well could honoring Persia learn +What Saadi wished to say; +For Saadi's nightly stars did burn +Brighter than Jami's day. + +Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot: +'O gentle Saadi, listen not, +Tempted by thy praise of wit, +Or by thirst and appetite +For the talents not thine own, +To sons of contradiction. +Never, son of eastern morning, +Follow falsehood, follow scorning. +Denounce who will, who will deny, +And pile the hills to scale the sky; +Let theist, atheist, pantheist, +Define and wrangle how they list, +Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,-- +But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer, +Unknowing war, unknowing crime, +Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme; +Heed not what the brawlers say, +Heed thou only Saadi's lay. + +'Let the great world bustle on +With war and trade, with camp and town; +A thousand men shall dig and eat; +At forge and furnace thousands sweat; +And thousands sail the purple sea, +And give or take the stroke of war, +Or crowd the market and bazaar; +Oft shall war end, and peace return, +And cities rise where cities burn, +Ere one man my hill shall climb, +Who can turn the golden rhyme. +Let them manage how they may, +Heed thou only Saadi's lay. +Seek the living among the dead,-- +Man in man is imprisoned; +Barefooted Dervish is not poor, +If fate unlock his bosom's door, +So that what his eye hath seen +His tongue can paint as bright, as keen; +And what his tender heart hath felt +With equal fire thy heart shalt melt. +For, whom the Muses smile upon, +And touch with soft persuasion, +His words like a storm-wind can bring +Terror and beauty on their wing; +In his every syllable +Lurketh Nature veritable; +And though he speak in midnight dark,-- +In heaven no star, on earth no spark,-- +Yet before the listener's eye +Swims the world in ecstasy, +The forest waves, the morning breaks, +The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes, +Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be, +And life pulsates in rock or tree. +Saadi, so far thy words shall reach: +Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!' + +And thus to Saadi said the Muse: +'Eat thou the bread which men refuse; +Flee from the goods which from thee flee; +Seek nothing,--Fortune seeketh thee. +Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep +The midway of the eternal deep. +Wish not to fill the isles with eyes +To fetch thee birds of paradise: +On thine orchard's edge belong +All the brags of plume and song; +Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass +For proverbs in the market-place: +Through mountains bored by regal art, +Toil whistles as he drives his cart. +Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind, +A poet or a friend to find: +Behold, he watches at the door! +Behold his shadow on the floor! +Open innumerable doors +The heaven where unveiled Allah pours +The flood of truth, the flood of good, +The Seraph's and the Cherub's food. +Those doors are men: the Pariah hind +Admits thee to the perfect Mind. +Seek not beyond thy cottage wall +Redeemers that can yield thee all: +While thou sittest at thy door +On the desert's yellow floor, +Listening to the gray-haired crones, +Foolish gossips, ancient drones, +Saadi, see! they rise in stature +To the height of mighty Nature, +And the secret stands revealed +Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,-- +That blessed gods in servile masks +Plied for thee thy household tasks.' + + + +HOLIDAYS + +From fall to spring, the russet acorn, + Fruit beloved of maid and boy, +Lent itself beneath the forest, + To be the children's toy. + +Pluck it now! In vain,--thou canst not; + Its root has pierced yon shady mound; +Toy no longer--it has duties; + It is anchored in the ground. + +Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, + Playfellow of young and old, +Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, + More dear to one than mines of gold. + +Whither went the lovely hoyden? + Disappeared in blessed wife; +Servant to a wooden cradle, + Living in a baby's life. + +Still thou playest;--short vacation + Fate grants each to stand aside; +Now must thou be man and artist,-- + 'T is the turning of the tide. + + + +XENOPHANES + +By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave +One scent to hyson and to wall-flower, +One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls, +One aspect to the desert and the lake. +It was her stern necessity: all things +Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower, +Song, picture, form, space, thought and character +Deceive us, seeming to be many things, +And are but one. Beheld far off, they part +As God and devil; bring them to the mind, +They dull its edge with their monotony. +To know one element, explore another, +And in the second reappears the first. +The specious panorama of a year +But multiplies the image of a day,-- +A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame; +And universal Nature, through her vast +And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, +Repeats one note. + + + +THE DAY'S RATION + + When I was born, +From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, +Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice, +Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw +From my great arteries,--nor less, nor more.' +All substances the cunning chemist Time +Melts down into that liquor of my life,-- +Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust. +And whether I am angry or content, +Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt, +All he distils into sidereal wine +And brims my little cup; heedless, alas! +Of all he sheds how little it will hold, +How much runs over on the desert sands. +If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray, +And I uplift myself into its heaven, +The needs of the first sight absorb my blood, +And all the following hours of the day +Drag a ridiculous age. +To-day, when friends approach, and every hour +Brings book, or starbright scroll of genius, +The little cup will hold not a bead more, +And all the costly liquor runs to waste; +Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond drop +So to be husbanded for poorer days. +Why need I volumes, if one word suffice? +Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught +After the master's sketch fills and o'erfills +My apprehension? Why seek Italy, +Who cannot circumnavigate the sea +Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn +The nearest matters for a thousand days? + + + +BLIGHT + + Give me truths; +For I am weary of the surfaces, +And die of inanition. If I knew +Only the herbs and simples of the wood, +Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, +Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, +Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew, +And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods +Draw untold juices from the common earth, +Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell +Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply +By sweet affinities to human flesh, +Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,-- +O, that were much, and I could be a part +Of the round day, related to the sun +And planted world, and full executor +Of their imperfect functions. +But these young scholars, who invade our hills, +Bold as the engineer who fells the wood, +And travelling often in the cut he makes, +Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, +And all their botany is Latin names. +The old men studied magic in the flowers, +And human fortunes in astronomy, +And an omnipotence in chemistry, +Preferring things to names, for these were men, +Were unitarians of the united world, +And, wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell, +They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes +Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, +And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, +And strangers to the plant and to the mine. +The injured elements say, 'Not in us;' +And night and day, ocean and continent, +Fire, plant and mineral say, 'Not in us;' +And haughtily return us stare for stare. +For we invade them impiously for gain; +We devastate them unreligiously, +And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. +Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us +Only what to our griping toil is due; +But the sweet affluence of love and song, +The rich results of the divine consents +Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover, +The nectar and ambrosia, are withheld; +And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves +And pirates of the universe, shut out +Daily to a more thin and outward rind, +Turn pale and starve. Therefore, to our sick eyes, +The stunted trees look sick, the summer short, +Clouds shade the sun, which will not tan our hay, +And nothing thrives to reach its natural term; +And life, shorn of its venerable length, +Even at its greatest space is a defeat, +And dies in anger that it was a dupe; +And, in its highest noon and wantonness, +Is early frugal, like a beggar's child; +Even in the hot pursuit of the best aims +And prizes of ambition, checks its hand, +Like Alpine cataracts frozen as they leaped, +Chilled with a miserly comparison +Of the toy's purchase with the length of life. + + + +MUSKETAQUID + +Because I was content with these poor fields, +Low, open meads, slender and sluggish streams, +And found a home in haunts which others scorned, +The partial wood-gods overpaid my love, +And granted me the freedom of their state, +And in their secret senate have prevailed +With the dear, dangerous lords that rule our life, +Made moon and planets parties to their bond, +And through my rock-like, solitary wont +Shot million rays of thought and tenderness. +For me, in showers, in sweeping showers, the Spring +Visits the valley;--break away the clouds,-- +I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air, +And loiter willing by yon loitering stream. +Sparrows far off, and nearer, April's bird, +Blue-coated,--flying before from tree to tree, +Courageous sing a delicate overture +To lead the tardy concert of the year. +Onward and nearer rides the sun of May; +And wide around, the marriage of the plants +Is sweetly solemnized. Then flows amain +The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag, +Hollow and lake, hillside and pine arcade, +Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff +Has thousand faces in a thousand hours. + +Beneath low hills, in the broad interval +Through which at will our Indian rivulet +Winds mindful still of sannup and of squaw, +Whose pipe and arrow oft the plough unburies, +Here in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, +Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell. +Traveller, to thee, perchance, a tedious road, +Or, it may be, a picture; to these men, +The landscape is an armory of powers, +Which, one by one, they know to draw and use. +They harness beast, bird, insect, to their work; +They prove the virtues of each bed of rock, +And, like the chemist 'mid his loaded jars, +Draw from each stratum its adapted use +To drug their crops or weapon their arts withal. +They turn the frost upon their chemic heap, +They set the wind to winnow pulse and grain, +They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime, +And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow, +Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods +O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year, +They fight the elements with elements +(That one would say, meadow and forest walked, +Transmuted in these men to rule their like), +And by the order in the field disclose +The order regnant in the yeoman's brain. + +What these strong masters wrote at large in miles, +I followed in small copy in my acre; +For there's no rood has not a star above it; +The cordial quality of pear or plum +Ascends as gladly in a single tree +As in broad orchards resonant with bees; +And every atom poises for itself, +And for the whole. The gentle deities +Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds, +The innumerable tenements of beauty. +The miracle of generative force, +Far-reaching concords of astronomy +Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds; +Better, the linked purpose of the whole, +And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty +In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave. +The polite found me impolite; the great +Would mortify me, but in vain; for still +I am a willow of the wilderness, +Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts +My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk, +A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush, +A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine, +Salve my worst wounds. +For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear: +'Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie? +Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass +Into the winter night's extinguished mood? +Canst thou shine now, then darkle, +And being latent, feel thyself no less? +As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye, +The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure, +Yet envies none, none are unenviable.' + + + +DIRGE + +CONCORD, 1838 + + +I reached the middle of the mount + Up which the incarnate soul must climb, +And paused for them, and looked around, + With me who walked through space and time. + +Five rosy boys with morning light + Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, +Fronted the sun with hope as bright, + And greeted God with childhood's psalms. + +Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, +What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn? + +In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts; +I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts. + +The winding Concord gleamed below, + Pouring as wide a flood +As when my brothers, long ago, + Came with me to the wood. + +But they are gone,--the holy ones + Who trod with me this lovely vale; +The strong, star-bright companions + Are silent, low and pale. + +My good, my noble, in their prime, + Who made this world the feast it was +Who learned with me the lore of time, + Who loved this dwelling-place! + +They took this valley for their toy, + They played with it in every mood; +A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,-- + They treated Nature as they would. + +They colored the horizon round; + Stars flamed and faded as they bade, +All echoes hearkened for their sound,-- + They made the woodlands glad or mad. + +I touch this flower of silken leaf, + Which once our childhood knew; +Its soft leaves wound me with a grief + Whose balsam never grew. + +Hearken to yon pine-warbler + Singing aloft in the tree! +Hearest thou, O traveller, + What he singeth to me? + +Not unless God made sharp thine ear + With sorrow such as mine, +Out of that delicate lay could'st thou + Its heavy tale divine. + +'Go, lonely man,' it saith; + 'They loved thee from their birth; +Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,-- + There are no such hearts on earth. + +'Ye drew one mother's milk, + One chamber held ye all; +A very tender history + Did in your childhood fall. + +'You cannot unlock your heart, + The key is gone with them; +The silent organ loudest chants + The master's requiem.' + + + +THRENODY + +The South-wind brings +Life, sunshine and desire, +And on every mount and meadow +Breathes aromatic fire; +But over the dead he has no power, +The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; +And, looking over the hills, I mourn +The darling who shall not return. + +I see my empty house, +I see my trees repair their boughs; +And he, the wondrous child, +Whose silver warble wild +Outvalued every pulsing sound +Within the air's cerulean round,-- +The hyacinthine boy, for whom +Morn well might break and April bloom, +The gracious boy, who did adorn +The world whereinto he was born, +And by his countenance repay +The favor of the loving Day,-- +Has disappeared from the Day's eye; +Far and wide she cannot find him; +My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him. +Returned this day, the South-wind searches, +And finds young pines and budding birches; +But finds not the budding man; +Nature, who lost, cannot remake him; +Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him; +Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain. + +And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, +O, whither tend thy feet? +I had the right, few days ago, +Thy steps to watch, thy place to know: +How have I forfeited the right? +Hast thou forgot me in a new delight? +I hearken for thy household cheer, +O eloquent child! +Whose voice, an equal messenger, +Conveyed thy meaning mild. +What though the pains and joys +Whereof it spoke were toys +Fitting his age and ken, +Yet fairest dames and bearded men, +Who heard the sweet request, +So gentle, wise and grave, +Bended with joy to his behest +And let the world's affairs go by, +A while to share his cordial game, +Or mend his wicker wagon-frame, +Still plotting how their hungry fear +That winsome voice again might hear; +For his lips could well pronounce +Words that were persuasions. + +Gentlest guardians marked serene +His early hope, his liberal mien; +Took counsel from his guiding eyes +To make this wisdom earthly wise. +Ah, vainly do these eyes recall +The school-march, each day's festival, +When every morn my bosom glowed +To watch the convoy on the road; +The babe in willow wagon closed, +With rolling eyes and face composed; +With children forward and behind, +Like Cupids studiously inclined; +And he the chieftain paced beside, +The centre of the troop allied, +With sunny face of sweet repose, +To guard the babe from fancied foes. +The little captain innocent +Took the eye with him as he went; +Each village senior paused to scan +And speak the lovely caravan. +From the window I look out +To mark thy beautiful parade, +Stately marching in cap and coat +To some tune by fairies played;-- +A music heard by thee alone +To works as noble led thee on. + +Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, +Up and down their glances strain. +The painted sled stands where it stood; +The kennel by the corded wood; +His gathered sticks to stanch the wall +Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; +The ominous hole he dug in the sand, +And childhood's castles built or planned; +His daily haunts I well discern,-- +The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,-- +And every inch of garden ground +Paced by the blessed feet around, +From the roadside to the brook +Whereinto he loved to look. +Step the meek fowls where erst they ranged; +The wintry garden lies unchanged; +The brook into the stream runs on; +But the deep-eyed boy is gone. + +On that shaded day, +Dark with more clouds than tempests are, +When thou didst yield thy innocent breath +In birdlike heavings unto death, +Night came, and Nature had not thee; +I said, 'We are mates in misery.' +The morrow dawned with needless glow; +Each snowbird chirped, each fowl must crow; +Each tramper started; but the feet +Of the most beautiful and sweet +Of human youth had left the hill +And garden,--they were bound and still. +There's not a sparrow or a wren, +There's not a blade of autumn grain, +Which the four seasons do not tend +And tides of life and increase lend; +And every chick of every bird, +And weed and rock-moss is preferred. +O ostrich-like forgetfulness! +O loss of larger in the less! +Was there no star that could be sent, +No watcher in the firmament, +No angel from the countless host +That loiters round the crystal coast, +Could stoop to heal that only child, +Nature's sweet marvel undefiled, +And keep the blossom of the earth, +Which all her harvests were not worth? +Not mine,--I never called thee mine, +But Nature's heir,--if I repine, +And seeing rashly torn and moved +Not what I made, but what I loved, +Grow early old with grief that thou +Must to the wastes of Nature go,-- +'T is because a general hope +Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope. +For flattering planets seemed to say +This child should ills of ages stay, +By wondrous tongue, and guided pen, +Bring the flown Muses back to men. +Perchance not he but Nature ailed, +The world and not the infant failed. +It was not ripe yet to sustain +A genius of so fine a strain, +Who gazed upon the sun and moon +As if he came unto his own, +And, pregnant with his grander thought, +Brought the old order into doubt. +His beauty once their beauty tried; +They could not feed him, and he died, +And wandered backward as in scorn, +To wait an aeon to be born. +Ill day which made this beauty waste, +Plight broken, this high face defaced! +Some went and came about the dead; +And some in books of solace read; +Some to their friends the tidings say; +Some went to write, some went to pray; +One tarried here, there hurried one; +But their heart abode with none. +Covetous death bereaved us all, +To aggrandize one funeral. +The eager fate which carried thee +Took the largest part of me: +For this losing is true dying; +This is lordly man's down-lying, +This his slow but sure reclining, +Star by star his world resigning. + +O child of paradise, +Boy who made dear his father's home, +In whose deep eyes +Men read the welfare of the times to come, +I am too much bereft. +The world dishonored thou hast left. +O truth's and nature's costly lie! +O trusted broken prophecy! +O richest fortune sourly crossed! +Born for the future, to the future lost! + +The deep Heart answered, 'Weepest thou? +Worthier cause for passion wild +If I had not taken the child. +And deemest thou as those who pore, +With aged eyes, short way before,-- +Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast +Of matter, and thy darling lost? +Taught he not thee--the man of eld, +Whose eyes within his eyes beheld +Heaven's numerous hierarchy span +The mystic gulf from God to man? +To be alone wilt thou begin +When worlds of lovers hem thee in? +To-morrow, when the masks shall fall +That dizen Nature's carnival, +The pure shall see by their own will, +Which overflowing Love shall fill, +'T is not within the force of fate +The fate-conjoined to separate. +But thou, my votary, weepest thou? +I gave thee sight--where is it now? +I taught thy heart beyond the reach +Of ritual, bible, or of speech; +Wrote in thy mind's transparent table, +As far as the incommunicable; +Taught thee each private sign to raise +Lit by the supersolar blaze. +Past utterance, and past belief, +And past the blasphemy of grief, +The mysteries of Nature's heart; +And though no Muse can these impart, +Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, +And all is clear from east to west. + +'I came to thee as to a friend; +Dearest, to thee I did not send +Tutors, but a joyful eye, +Innocence that matched the sky, +Lovely locks, a form of wonder, +Laughter rich as woodland thunder, +That thou might'st entertain apart +The richest flowering of all art: +And, as the great all-loving Day +Through smallest chambers takes its way, +That thou might'st break thy daily bread +With prophet, savior and head; +That thou might'st cherish for thine own +The riches of sweet Mary's Son, +Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon. +And thoughtest thou such guest +Would in thy hall take up his rest? +Would rushing life forget her laws, +Fate's glowing revolution pause? +High omens ask diviner guess; +Not to be conned to tediousness +And know my higher gifts unbind +The zone that girds the incarnate mind. +When the scanty shores are full +With Thought's perilous, whirling pool; +When frail Nature can no more, +Then the Spirit strikes the hour: +My servant Death, with solving rite, +Pours finite into infinite. +Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow, +Whose streams through Nature circling go? +Nail the wild star to its track +On the half-climbed zodiac? +Light is light which radiates, +Blood is blood which circulates, +Life is life which generates, +And many-seeming life is one,-- +Wilt thou transfix and make it none? +Its onward force too starkly pent +In figure, bone and lineament? +Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, +Talker! the unreplying Fate? +Nor see the genius of the whole +Ascendant in the private soul, +Beckon it when to go and come, +Self-announced its hour of doom? +Fair the soul's recess and shrine, +Magic-built to last a season; +Masterpiece of love benign, +Fairer that expansive reason +Whose omen 'tis, and sign. +Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know +What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? +Verdict which accumulates +From lengthening scroll of human fates, +Voice of earth to earth returned, +Prayers of saints that inly burned,-- +Saying, _What is excellent,_ +_As God lives, is permanent;_ +_Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain;_ +_Heart's love will meet thee again._ +Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye +Up to his style, and manners of the sky. +Not of adamant and gold +Built he heaven stark and cold; +No, but a nest of bending reeds, +Flowering grass and scented weeds; +Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, +Or bow above the tempest bent; +Built of tears and sacred flames, +And virtue reaching to its aims; +Built of furtherance and pursuing, +Not of spent deeds, but of doing. +Silent rushes the swift Lord +Through ruined systems still restored, +Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, +Plants with worlds the wilderness; +Waters with tears of ancient sorrow +Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. +House and tenant go to ground, +Lost in God, in Godhead found.' + + + +CONCORD HYMN + +SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE +MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837 + +By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, +Here once the embattled farmers stood + And fired the shot heard round the world. + +The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; +And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + +On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; +That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + +Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, +Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and thee. + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES + + * * * * * + + + +MAY-DAY + +Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, +With sudden passion languishing, +Teaching Barren moors to smile, +Painting pictures mile on mile, +Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, +Whence a smokeless incense breathes. +The air is full of whistlings bland; +What was that I heard +Out of the hazy land? +Harp of the wind, or song of bird, +Or vagrant booming of the air, +Voice of a meteor lost in day? +Such tidings of the starry sphere +Can this elastic air convey. +Or haply 'twas the cannonade +Of the pent and darkened lake, +Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade, +Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break, +Afflicted moan, and latest hold +Even into May the iceberg cold. +Was it a squirrel's pettish bark, +Or clarionet of jay? or hark +Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, +Steering north with raucous cry +Through tracts and provinces of sky, +Every night alighting down +In new landscapes of romance, +Where darkling feed the clamorous clans +By lonely lakes to men unknown. +Come the tumult whence it will, +Voice of sport, or rush of wings, +It is a sound, it is a token +That the marble sleep is broken, +And a change has passed on things. + + When late I walked, in earlier days, +All was stiff and stark; +Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, +In the sky no spark; +Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, +Struggling through the drifted roads; +The whited desert knew me not, +Snow-ridges masked each darling spot; +The summer dells, by genius haunted, +One arctic moon had disenchanted. +All the sweet secrets therein hid +By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. +Eldest mason, Frost, had piled +Swift cathedrals in the wild; +The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts +In the star-lit minster aisled. +I found no joy: the icy wind +Might rule the forest to his mind. +Who would freeze on frozen lakes? +Back to books and sheltered home, +And wood-fire flickering on the walls, +To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games, +Without the baffled North-wind calls. +But soft! a sultry morning breaks; +The ground-pines wash their rusty green, +The maple-tops their crimson tint, +On the soft path each track is seen, +The girl's foot leaves its neater print. +The pebble loosened from the frost +Asks of the urchin to be tost. +In flint and marble beats a heart, +The kind Earth takes her children's part, +The green lane is the school-boy's friend, +Low leaves his quarrel apprehend, +The fresh ground loves his top and ball, +The air rings jocund to his call, +The brimming brook invites a leap, +He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. +The youth sees omens where he goes, +And speaks all languages the rose, +The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice +The far halloo of human voice; +The perfumed berry on the spray +Smacks of faint memories far away. +A subtle chain of countless rings +The next into the farthest brings, +And, striving to be man, the worm +Mounts through all the spires of form. + + The caged linnet in the Spring +Hearkens for the choral glee, +When his fellows on the wing +Migrate from the Southern Sea; +When trellised grapes their flowers unmask, +And the new-born tendrils twine, +The old wine darkling in the cask +Feels the bloom on the living vine, +And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: +And so, perchance, in Adam's race, +Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace +Survived the Flight and swam the Flood, +And wakes the wish in youngest blood +To tread the forfeit Paradise, +And feed once more the exile's eyes; +And ever when the happy child +In May beholds the blooming wild, +And hears in heaven the bluebird sing, +'Onward,' he cries, 'your baskets bring,-- +In the next field is air more mild, +And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier spring.' + + Not for a regiment's parade, +Nor evil laws or rulers made, +Blue Walden rolls its cannonade, +But for a lofty sign +Which the Zodiac threw, +That the bondage-days are told. +And waters free as winds shall flow. +Lo! how all the tribes combine +To rout the flying foe. +See, every patriot oak-leaf throws +His elfin length upon the snows, +Not idle, since the leaf all day +Draws to the spot the solar ray, +Ere sunset quarrying inches down, +And halfway to the mosses brown; +While the grass beneath the rime +Has hints of the propitious time, +And upward pries and perforates +Through the cold slab a thousand gates, +Till green lances peering through +Bend happy in the welkin blue. + + As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, +So Spring will not her time forerun, +Mix polar night with tropic glow, +Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, +Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, +But she has the temperance +Of the gods, whereof she is one,-- +Masks her treasury of heat +Under east winds crossed with sleet. +Plants and birds and humble creatures +Well accept her rule austere; +Titan-born, to hardy natures +Cold is genial and dear. +As Southern wrath to Northern right +Is but straw to anthracite; +As in the day of sacrifice, +When heroes piled the pyre, +The dismal Massachusetts ice +Burned more than others' fire, +So Spring guards with surface cold +The garnered heat of ages old. +Hers to sow the seed of bread, +That man and all the kinds be fed; +And, when the sunlight fills the hours, +Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers. + + Beneath the calm, within the light, +A hid unruly appetite +Of swifter life, a surer hope, +Strains every sense to larger scope, +Impatient to anticipate +The halting steps of aged Fate. +Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl: +When Nature falters, fain would zeal +Grasp the felloes of her wheel, +And grasping give the orbs another whirl. +Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball! +And sun this frozen side. +Bring hither back the robin's call, +Bring back the tulip's pride. + + Why chidest thou the tardy Spring? +The hardy bunting does not chide; +The blackbirds make the maples ring +With social cheer and jubilee; +The redwing flutes his _o-ka-lee_, +The robins know the melting snow; +The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed, +Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves, +Secure the osier yet will hide +Her callow brood in mantling leaves,-- +And thou, by science all undone, +Why only must thy reason fail +To see the southing of the sun? + + The world rolls round,--mistrust it not,-- +Befalls again what once befell; +All things return, both sphere and mote, +And I shall hear my bluebird's note, +And dream the dream of Auburn dell. + + April cold with dropping rain +Willows and lilacs brings again, +The whistle of returning birds, +And trumpet-lowing of the herds. +The scarlet maple-keys betray +What potent blood hath modest May, +What fiery force the earth renews, +The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; +What joy in rosy waves outpoured +Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. + + Hither rolls the storm of heat; +I feel its finer billows beat +Like a sea which me infolds; +Heat with viewless fingers moulds, +Swells, and mellows, and matures, +Paints, and flavors, and allures, +Bird and brier inly warms, +Still enriches and transforms, +Gives the reed and lily length, +Adds to oak and oxen strength, +Transforming what it doth infold, +Life out of death, new out of old, +Painting fawns' and leopards' fells, +Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells, +Fires gardens with a joyful blaze +Of tulips, in the morning's rays. +The dead log touched bursts into leaf, +The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf. +What god is this imperial Heat, +Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat? +Doth it bear hidden in its heart +Water-line patterns of all art? +Is it Daedalus? is it Love? +Or walks in mask almighty Jove, +And drops from Power's redundant horn +All seeds of beauty to be born? + + Where shall we keep the holiday, +And duly greet the entering May? +Too strait and low our cottage doors, +And all unmeet our carpet floors; +Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, +Suffice to hold the festival. +Up and away! where haughty woods +Front the liberated floods: +We will climb the broad-backed hills, +Hear the uproar of their joy; +We will mark the leaps and gleams +Of the new-delivered streams, +And the murmuring rivers of sap +Mount in the pipes of the trees, +Giddy with day, to the topmost spire, +Which for a spike of tender green +Bartered its powdery cap; +And the colors of joy in the bird, +And the love in its carol heard, +Frog and lizard in holiday coats, +And turtle brave in his golden spots; +While cheerful cries of crag and plain +Reply to the thunder of river and main. + + As poured the flood of the ancient sea +Spilling over mountain chains, +Bending forests as bends the sedge, +Faster flowing o'er the plains,-- +A world-wide wave with a foaming edge +That rims the running silver sheet,-- +So pours the deluge of the heat +Broad northward o'er the land, +Painting artless paradises, +Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, +Fanning secret fires which glow +In columbine and clover-blow, +Climbing the northern zones, +Where a thousand pallid towns +Lie like cockles by the main, +Or tented armies on a plain. +The million-handed sculptor moulds +Quaintest bud and blossom folds, +The million-handed painter pours +Opal hues and purple dye; +Azaleas flush the island floors, +And the tints of heaven reply. + + Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring +To-day shall all her dowry bring, +The love of kind, the joy, the grace, +Hymen of element and race, +Knowing well to celebrate +With song and hue and star and state, +With tender light and youthful cheer, +The spousals of the new-born year. + + Spring is strong and virtuous, +Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, +Quickening underneath the mould +Grains beyond the price of gold. +So deep and large her bounties are, +That one broad, long midsummer day +Shall to the planet overpay +The ravage of a year of war. + + Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, +And send the nectar round; +The feet that slid so long on sleet +Are glad to feel the ground. +Fill and saturate each kind +With good according to its mind, +Fill each kind and saturate +With good agreeing with its fate, +And soft perfection of its plan-- +Willow and violet, maiden and man. + + The bitter-sweet, the haunting air +Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; +It preys on all, all prey on it. +Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, +Stings the strong with enterprise, +Makes travellers long for Indian skies, +And where it comes this courier fleet +Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, +As if to-morrow should redeem +The vanished rose of evening's dream. +By houses lies a fresher green, +On men and maids a ruddier mien, +As if Time brought a new relay +Of shining virgins every May, +And Summer came to ripen maids +To a beauty that not fades. + + I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth, +Stepping daily onward north +To greet staid ancient cavaliers +Filing single in stately train. +And who, and who are the travellers? +They were Night and Day, and Day and Night, +Pilgrims wight with step forthright. +I saw the Days deformed and low, +Short and bent by cold and snow; +The merry Spring threw wreaths on them, +Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell; +Many a flower and many a gem, +They were refreshed by the smell, +They shook the snow from hats and shoon, +They put their April raiment on; +And those eternal forms, +Unhurt by a thousand storms, +Shot up to the height of the sky again, +And danced as merrily as young men. +I saw them mask their awful glance +Sidewise meek in gossamer lids; +And to speak my thought if none forbids +It was as if the eternal gods, +Tired of their starry periods, +Hid their majesty in cloth +Woven of tulips and painted moth. +On carpets green the maskers march +Below May's well-appointed arch, +Each star, each god; each grace amain, +Every joy and virtue speed, +Marching duly in her train, +And fainting Nature at her need +Is made whole again. + + 'Twas the vintage-day of field and wood, +When magic wine for bards is brewed; +Every tree and stem and chink +Gushed with syrup to the brink. +The air stole into the streets of towns, +Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns, +And betrayed the fund of joy +To the high-school and medalled boy: +On from hall to chamber ran, +From youth to maid, from boy to man, +To babes, and to old eyes as well. +'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds, +Airy turrets purple-piled, +Which once my infancy beguiled, +Beguile me with the wonted spell. +I know ye skilful to convoy +The total freight of hope and joy +Into rude and homely nooks, +Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books, +On farmer's byre, on pasture rude, +And stony pathway to the wood. +I care not if the pomps you show +Be what they soothfast appear, +Or if yon realms in sunset glow +Be bubbles of the atmosphere. +And if it be to you allowed +To fool me with a shining cloud, +So only new griefs are consoled +By new delights, as old by old, +Frankly I will be your guest, +Count your change and cheer the best. +The world hath overmuch of pain,-- +If Nature give me joy again, +Of such deceit I'll not complain.' + + Ah! well I mind the calendar, +Faithful through a thousand years, +Of the painted race of flowers, +Exact to days, exact to hours, +Counted on the spacious dial +Yon broidered zodiac girds. +I know the trusty almanac +Of the punctual coming-back, +On their due days, of the birds. +I marked them yestermorn, +A flock of finches darting +Beneath the crystal arch, +Piping, as they flew, a march,-- +Belike the one they used in parting +Last year from yon oak or larch; +Dusky sparrows in a crowd, +Diving, darting northward free, +Suddenly betook them all, +Every one to his hole in the wall, +Or to his niche in the apple-tree. +I greet with joy the choral trains +Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. +Best gems of Nature's cabinet, +With dews of tropic morning wet, +Beloved of children, bards and Spring, +O birds, your perfect virtues bring, +Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, +Your manners for the heart's delight, +Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, +Here weave your chamber weather-proof, +Forgive our harms, and condescend +To man, as to a lubber friend, +And, generous, teach his awkward race +Courage and probity and grace! + + Poets praise that hidden wine +Hid in milk we drew +At the barrier of Time, +When our life was new. +We had eaten fairy fruit, +We were quick from head to foot, +All the forms we looked on shone +As with diamond dews thereon. +What cared we for costly joys, +The Museum's far-fetched toys? +Gleam of sunshine on the wall +Poured a deeper cheer than all +The revels of the Carnival. +We a pine-grove did prefer +To a marble theatre, +Could with gods on mallows dine, +Nor cared for spices or for wine. +Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned. +Arch on arch, the grimmest land; +Whittle of a woodland bird +Made the pulses dance, +Note of horn in valleys heard +Filled the region with romance. + + None can tell how sweet, +How virtuous, the morning air; +Every accent vibrates well; +Not alone the wood-bird's call, +Or shouting boys that chase their ball, +Pass the height of minstrel skill, +But the ploughman's thoughtless cry, +Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat, +And the joiner's hammer-beat, +Softened are above their will, +Take tones from groves they wandered through +Or flutes which passing angels blew. +All grating discords melt, +No dissonant note is dealt, +And though thy voice be shrill +Like rasping file on steel, +Such is the temper of the air, +Echo waits with art and care, +And will the faults of song repair. + + So by remote Superior Lake, +And by resounding Mackinac, +When northern storms the forest shake, +And billows on the long beach break, +The artful Air will separate +Note by note all sounds that grate, +Smothering in her ample breast +All but godlike words, +Reporting to the happy ear +Only purified accords. +Strangely wrought from barking waves, +Soft music daunts the Indian braves,-- +Convent-chanting which the child +Hears pealing from the panther's cave +And the impenetrable wild. + + Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze: +So on thy broad mystic van +Lie the opal-colored days, +And waft the miracle to man. +Soothsayer of the eldest gods, +Repairer of what harms betide, +Revealer of the inmost powers +Prometheus proffered, Jove denied; +Disclosing treasures more than true, +Or in what far to-morrow due; +Speaking by the tongues of flowers, +By the ten-tongued laurel speaking, +Singing by the oriole songs, +Heart of bird the man's heart seeking; +Whispering hints of treasure hid +Under Morn's unlifted lid, +Islands looming just beyond +The dim horizon's utmost bound;-- +Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid, +Or taunt us with our hope decayed? +Or who like thee persuade, +Making the splendor of the air, +The morn and sparkling dew, a snare? +Or who resent +Thy genius, wiles and blandishment? + + There is no orator prevails +To beckon or persuade +Like thee the youth or maid: +Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales, +Thy blooms, thy kinds, +Thy echoes in the wilderness, +Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress, +Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds. + + For thou, O Spring! canst renovate +All that high God did first create. +Be still his arm and architect, +Rebuild the ruin, mend defect; +Chemist to vamp old worlds with new, +Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue, +New tint the plumage of the birds, +And slough decay from grazing herds, +Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain, +Cleanse the torrent at the fountain, +Purge alpine air by towns defiled, +Bring to fair mother fairer child, +Not less renew the heart and brain, +Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain, +Make the aged eye sun-clear, +To parting soul bring grandeur near. +Under gentle types, my Spring +Masks the might of Nature's king, +An energy that searches thorough +From Chaos to the dawning morrow; +Into all our human plight, +The soul's pilgrimage and flight; +In city or in solitude, +Step by step, lifts bad to good, +Without halting, without rest, +Lifting Better up to Best; +Planting seeds of knowledge pure, +Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure. + + + +THE ADIRONDACS + +A JOURNAL + +DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858 + + Wise and polite,--and if I drew + Their several portraits, you would own + Chaucer had no such worthy crew, + Nor Boccace in Decameron. + +We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends, +Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks +Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach +The Adirondac lakes. At Martin's Beach +We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide,-- +Ten men, ten guides, our company all told. + + Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac, +With skies of benediction, to Round Lake, +Where all the sacred mountains drew around us, +Tahawus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead, +And other Titans without muse or name. +Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on, +Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills. +We made our distance wider, boat from boat, +As each would hear the oracle alone. +By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid +Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets, +Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel-flower, +Through scented banks of lilies white and gold, +Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day, +On through the Upper Saranac, and up +Pere Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass +Winding through grassy shallows in and out, +Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge, +To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons. + + Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed, +Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge +Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore. +A pause and council: then, where near the head +Due east a bay makes inward to the land +Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank, +And in the twilight of the forest noon +Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard. +We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts, +Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof, +Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire. + + The wood was sovran with centennial trees,-- +Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir, +Linden and spruce. In strict society +Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine, +Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby, +Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth, +The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower. + + 'Welcome!' the wood-god murmured through the leaves,-- +'Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.' +Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs, +Which o'erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire. +Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks, +Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor. + + Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft +In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed, +Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux, +And greet unanimous the joyful change. +So fast will Nature acclimate her sons, +Though late returning to her pristine ways. +Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold; +And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned, +Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds. +Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air +That circled freshly in their forest dress +Made them to boys again. Happier that they +Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind, +At the first mounting of the giant stairs. +No placard on these rocks warned to the polls, +No door-bell heralded a visitor, +No courier waits, no letter came or went, +Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold; +The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop, +The falling rain will spoil no holiday. +We were made freemen of the forest laws, +All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends, +Essaying nothing she cannot perform. + + In Adirondac lakes +At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded: +Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make +His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain, +He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn: +A paddle in the right hand, or an oar, +And in the left, a gun, his needful arms. +By turns we praised the stature of our guides, +Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill +To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp, +To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs +Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down: +Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount, +And wit to trap or take him in his lair. +Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent, +In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides; +Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired +Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve. + + Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen! +No city airs or arts pass current here. +Your rank is all reversed; let men or cloth +Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls: +_They_ are the doctors of the wilderness, +And we the low-prized laymen. +In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test +Which few can put on with impunity. +What make you, master, fumbling at the oar? +Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here. +The sallow knows the basket-maker's thumb; +The oar, the guide's. Dare you accept the tasks +He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes, +Tell the sun's time, determine the true north, +Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods +To thread by night the nearest way to camp? + + Ask you, how went the hours? +All day we swept the lake, searched every cove, +North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay, +Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, +Or whipping its rough surface for a trout; +Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon; +Challenging Echo by our guns and cries; +Or listening to the laughter of the loon; +Or, in the evening twilight's latest red, +Beholding the procession of the pines; +Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, +In the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter +Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds +Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist. +Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods +Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck +Who stands astonished at the meteor light, +Then turns to bound away,--is it too late? + + Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark, +Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five; +Sometimes their wits at sally and retort, +With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; +Or parties scaled the near acclivities +Competing seekers of a rumored lake, +Whose unauthenticated waves we named +Lake Probability,--our carbuncle, +Long sought, not found. + + Two Doctors in the camp +Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout's brain, +Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew, +Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth; +Insatiate skill in water or in air +Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss; +The while, one leaden got of alcohol +Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds. +Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants, +Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus, +Rosy polygonum, lake-margin's pride, +Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss, +Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls. +Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed, +The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker +Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp. +As water poured through hollows of the hills +To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets, +So Nature shed all beauty lavishly +From her redundant horn. + + Lords of this realm, +Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day +Rounded by hours where each outdid the last +In miracles of pomp, we must be proud, +As if associates of the sylvan gods. +We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac, +So pure the Alpine element we breathed, +So light, so lofty pictures came and went. +We trode on air, contemned the distant town, +Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned +That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge +And how we should come hither with our sons, +Hereafter,--willing they, and more adroit. + + Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery,-- +The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito +Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands: +But, on the second day, we heed them not, +Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries, +Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names. +For who defends our leafy tabernacle +From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd,-- +Who but the midge, mosquito and the fly, +Which past endurance sting the tender cit, +But which we learn to scatter with a smudge, +Or baffle by a veil, or slight by scorn? + + Our foaming ale we drank from hunters' pans, +Ale, and a sup of wine. Our steward gave +Venison and trout, potatoes, beans, wheat-bread; +All ate like abbots, and, if any missed +Their wonted convenance, cheerly hid the loss +With hunters' appetite and peals of mirth. +And Stillman, our guides' guide, and Commodore, +Crusoe, Crusader, Pius Aeneas, said aloud, +"Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating +Food indigestible":--then murmured some, +Others applauded him who spoke the truth. + + Nor doubt but visitings of graver thought +Checked in these souls the turbulent heyday +'Mid all the hints and glories of the home. +For who can tell what sudden privacies +Were sought and found, amid the hue and cry +Of scholars furloughed from their tasks and let +Into this Oreads' fended Paradise, +As chapels in the city's thoroughfares, +Whither gaunt Labor slips to wipe his brow +And meditate a moment on Heaven's rest. +Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke +To each apart, lifting her lovely shows +To spiritual lessons pointed home, +And as through dreams in watches of the night, +So through all creatures in their form and ways +Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant, +Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense +Inviting to new knowledge, one with old. +Hark to that petulant chirp! what ails the warbler? +Mark his capricious ways to draw the eye. +Now soar again. What wilt thou, restless bird, +Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light, +Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky? + + And presently the sky is changed; O world! +What pictures and what harmonies are thine! +The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, +So like the soul of me, what if 't were me? +A melancholy better than all mirth. +Comes the sweet sadness at the retrospect, +Or at the foresight of obscurer years? +Like yon slow-sailing cloudy promontory +Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty +Superior to all its gaudy skirts. +And, that no day of life may lack romance, +The spiritual stars rise nightly, shedding down +A private beam into each several heart. +Daily the bending skies solicit man, +The seasons chariot him from this exile, +The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing chair, +The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, +Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights +Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home. + + With a vermilion pencil mark the day +When of our little fleet three cruising skiffs +Entering Big Tupper, bound for the foaming Falls +Of loud Bog River, suddenly confront +Two of our mates returning with swift oars. +One held a printed journal waving high +Caught from a late-arriving traveller, +Big with great news, and shouted the report +For which the world had waited, now firm fact, +Of the wire-cable laid beneath the sea, +And landed on our coast, and pulsating +With ductile fire. Loud, exulting cries +From boat to boat, and to the echoes round, +Greet the glad miracle. Thought's new-found path +Shall supplement henceforth all trodden ways, +Match God's equator with a zone of art, +And lift man's public action to a height +Worthy the enormous cloud of witnesses, +When linked hemispheres attest his deed. +We have few moments in the longest life +Of such delight and wonder as there grew,-- +Nor yet unsuited to that solitude: +A burst of joy, as if we told the fact +To ears intelligent; as if gray rock +And cedar grove and cliff and lake should know +This feat of wit, this triumph of mankind; +As if we men were talking in a vein +Of sympathy so large, that ours was theirs, +And a prime end of the most subtle element +Were fairly reached at last. Wake, echoing caves! +Bend nearer, faint day-moon! Yon thundertops, +Let them hear well! 'tis theirs as much as ours. + + A spasm throbbing through the pedestals +Of Alp and Andes, isle and continent, +Urging astonished Chaos with a thrill +To be a brain, or serve the brain of man. +The lightning has run masterless too long; +He must to school and learn his verb and noun +And teach his nimbleness to earn his wage, +Spelling with guided tongue man's messages +Shot through the weltering pit of the salt sea. +And yet I marked, even in the manly joy +Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat +(Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent; +Or was it for mankind a generous shame, +As of a luck not quite legitimate, +Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? +Was it a college pique of town and gown, +As one within whose memory it burned +That not academicians, but some lout, +Found ten years since the Californian gold? +And now, again, a hungry company +Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, +Perversely borrowing from the shop the tools +Of science, not from the philosophers, +Had won the brightest laurel of all time. +'Twas always thus, and will be; hand and head +Are ever rivals: but, though this be swift, +The other slow,--this the Prometheus, +And that the Jove,--yet, howsoever hid, +It was from Jove the other stole his fire, +And, without Jove, the good had never been. +It is not Iroquois or cannibals, +But ever the free race with front sublime, +And these instructed by their wisest too, +Who do the feat, and lift humanity. +Let not him mourn who best entitled was, +Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, +Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, +And water it with wine, nor watch askance +Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: +Enough that mankind eat and are refreshed. + + We flee away from cities, but we bring +The best of cities with us, these learned classifiers, +Men knowing what they seek, armed eyes of experts. +We praise the guide, we praise the forest life: +But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore +Of books and arts and trained experiment, +Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? +O no, not we! Witness the shout that shook +Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail +The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge +Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears +From a log cabin stream Beethoven's notes +On the piano, played with master's hand. +'Well done!' he cries; 'the bear is kept at bay, +The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; +All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, +This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, +This wild plantation will suffice to chase. +Now speed the gay celerities of art, +What in the desert was impossible +Within four walls is possible again,-- +Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill, +Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife +Of keen competing youths, joined or alone +To outdo each other and extort applause. +Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. +Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again, +On for a thousand years of genius more.' + + The holidays were fruitful, but must end; +One August evening had a cooler breath; +Into each mind intruding duties crept; +Under the cinders burned the fires of home; +Nay, letters found us in our paradise: +So in the gladness of the new event +We struck our camp and left the happy hills. +The fortunate star that rose on us sank not; +The prodigal sunshine rested on the land, +The rivers gambolled onward to the sea, +And Nature, the inscrutable and mute, +Permitted on her infinite repose +Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, +As if one riddle of the Sphinx were guessed. + + + +BRAHMA + +If the red slayer think he slays, + Or if the slain think he is slain, +They know not well the subtle ways + I keep, and pass, and turn again. + +Far or forgot to me is near; + Shadow and sunlight are the same; +The vanished gods to me appear; + And one to me are shame and fame. + +They reckon ill who leave me out; + When me they fly, I am the wings; +I am the doubter and the doubt, + And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. + +The strong gods pine for my abode, + And pine in vain the sacred Seven; +But thou, meek lover of the good! + Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. + + + +NEMESIS + +Already blushes on thy cheek +The bosom thought which thou must speak; +The bird, how far it haply roam +By cloud or isle, is flying home; +The maiden fears, and fearing runs +Into the charmed snare she shuns; +And every man, in love or pride, +Of his fate is never wide. + +Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth? +Or prayers the stony Parcae soothe, +Or coax the thunder from its mark? +Or tapers light the chaos dark? +In spite of Virtue and the Muse, +Nemesis will have her dues, +And all our struggles and our toils +Tighter wind the giant coils. + + + +FATE + +Deep in the man sits fast his fate +To mould his fortunes, mean or great: +Unknown to Cromwell as to me +Was Cromwell's measure or degree; +Unknown to him as to his horse, +If he than his groom be better or worse. +He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, +With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, +Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, +Broad England harbored not his peer: +Obeying time, the last to own +The Genius from its cloudy throne. +For the prevision is allied +Unto the thing so signified; +Or say, the foresight that awaits +Is the same Genius that creates. + + + +FREEDOM + +Once I wished I might rehearse +Freedom's paean in my verse, +That the slave who caught the strain +Should throb until he snapped his chain, +But the Spirit said, 'Not so; +Speak it not, or speak it low; +Name not lightly to be said, +Gift too precious to be prayed, +Passion not to be expressed +But by heaving of the breast: +Yet,--wouldst thou the mountain find +Where this deity is shrined, +Who gives to seas and sunset skies +Their unspent beauty of surprise, +And, when it lists him, waken can +Brute or savage into man; +Or, if in thy heart he shine, +Blends the starry fates with thine, +Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, +And makes thy thoughts archangels be; +Freedom's secret wilt thou know?-- +Counsel not with flesh and blood; +Loiter not for cloak or food; +Right thou feelest, rush to do.' + + + +ODE + +SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 + +O tenderly the haughty day + Fills his blue urn with fire; +One morn is in the mighty heaven, + And one in our desire. + +The cannon booms from town to town, + Our pulses beat not less, +The joy-bells chime their tidings down, + Which children's voices bless. + +For He that flung the broad blue fold + O'er-mantling land and sea, +One third part of the sky unrolled + For the banner of the free. + +The men are ripe of Saxon kind + To build an equal state,-- +To take the statute from the mind + And make of duty fate. + +United States! the ages plead,-- + Present and Past in under-song,-- +Go put your creed into your deed, + Nor speak with double tongue. + +For sea and land don't understand, + Nor skies without a frown +See rights for which the one hand fights + By the other cloven down. + +Be just at home; then write your scroll + Of honor o'er the sea, +And bid the broad Atlantic roll, + A ferry of the free. + +And henceforth there shall be no chain, + Save underneath the sea +The wires shall murmur through the main + Sweet songs of liberty. + +The conscious stars accord above, + The waters wild below, +And under, through the cable wove, + Her fiery errands go. + +For He that worketh high and wise. + Nor pauses in his plan, +Will take the sun out of the skies + Ere freedom out of man. + + + +BOSTON HYMN + +READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863 + +The word of the Lord by night +To the watching Pilgrims came, +As they sat by the seaside, +And filled their hearts with flame. + +God said, I am tired of kings, +I suffer them no more; +Up to my ear the morning brings +The outrage of the poor. + +Think ye I made this ball +A field of havoc and war, +Where tyrants great and tyrants small +Might harry the weak and poor? + +My angel,--his name is Freedom,-- +Choose him to be your king; +He shall cut pathways east and west +And fend you with his wing. + +Lo! I uncover the land +Which I hid of old time in the West, +As the sculptor uncovers the statue +When he has wrought his best; + +I show Columbia, of the rocks +Which dip their foot in the seas +And soar to the air-borne flocks +Of clouds and the boreal fleece. + +I will divide my goods; +Call in the wretch and slave: +None shall rule but the humble. +And none but Toil shall have. + +I will have never a noble, +No lineage counted great; +Fishers and choppers and ploughmen +Shall constitute a state. + +Go, cut down trees in the forest +And trim the straightest boughs; +Cut down trees in the forest +And build me a wooden house. + +Call the people together, +The young men and the sires, +The digger in the harvest-field, +Hireling and him that hires; + +And here in a pine state-house +They shall choose men to rule +In every needful faculty, +In church and state and school. + +Lo, now! if these poor men +Can govern the land and sea +And make just laws below the sun, +As planets faithful be. + +And ye shall succor men; +'Tis nobleness to serve; +Help them who cannot help again: +Beware from right to swerve. + +I break your bonds and masterships, +And I unchain the slave: +Free be his heart and hand henceforth +As wind and wandering wave. + +I cause from every creature +His proper good to flow: +As much as he is and doeth, +So much he shall bestow. + +But, laying hands on another +To coin his labor and sweat, +He goes in pawn to his victim +For eternal years in debt. + +To-day unbind the captive, +So only are ye unbound; +Lift up a people from the dust, +Trump of their rescue, sound! + +Pay ransom to the owner +And fill the bag to the brim. +Who is the owner? The slave is owner, +And ever was. Pay him. + +O North! give him beauty for rags, +And honor, O South! for his shame; +Nevada! coin thy golden crags +With Freedom's image and name. + +Up! and the dusky race +That sat in darkness long,-- +Be swift their feet as antelopes. +And as behemoth strong. + +Come, East and West and North, +By races, as snow-flakes, +And carry my purpose forth, +Which neither halts nor shakes. + +My will fulfilled shall be, +For, in daylight or in dark, +My thunderbolt has eyes to see +His way home to the mark. + + + +VOLUNTARIES + +I + +Low and mournful be the strain, +Haughty thought be far from me; +Tones of penitence and pain, +Meanings of the tropic sea; +Low and tender in the cell +Where a captive sits in chains. +Crooning ditties treasured well +From his Afric's torrid plains. +Sole estate his sire bequeathed,-- +Hapless sire to hapless son,-- +Was the wailing song he breathed, +And his chain when life was done. + + What his fault, or what his crime? +Or what ill planet crossed his prime? +Heart too soft and will too weak +To front the fate that crouches near,-- +Dove beneath the vulture's beak;-- +Will song dissuade the thirsty spear? +Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, +Displaced, disfurnished here, +His wistful toil to do his best +Chilled by a ribald jeer. +Great men in the Senate sate, +Sage and hero, side by side, +Building for their sons the State, +Which they shall rule with pride. +They forbore to break the chain +Which bound the dusky tribe, +Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, +Lured by 'Union' as the bribe. +Destiny sat by, and said, +'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, +Hide in false peace your coward head, +I bring round the harvest day.' + +II + +Freedom all winged expands, +Nor perches in a narrow place; +Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; +She loves a poor and virtuous race. +Clinging to a colder zone +Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, +The snowflake is her banner's star, +Her stripes the boreal streamers are. +Long she loved the Northman well; +Now the iron age is done, +She will not refuse to dwell +With the offspring of the Sun; +Foundling of the desert far, +Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, +He roves unhurt the burning ways +In climates of the summer star. +He has avenues to God +Hid from men of Northern brain, +Far beholding, without cloud, +What these with slowest steps attain. +If once the generous chief arrive +To lead him willing to be led, +For freedom he will strike and strive, +And drain his heart till he be dead. + +III + +In an age of fops and toys, +Wanting wisdom, void of right, +Who shall nerve heroic boys +To hazard all in Freedom's fight,-- +Break sharply off their jolly games, +Forsake their comrades gay +And quit proud homes and youthful dames +For famine, toil and fray? +Yet on the nimble air benign +Speed nimbler messages, +That waft the breath of grace divine +To hearts in sloth and ease. +So nigh is grandeur to our dust, +So near is God to man, +When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_, +The youth replies, _I can_. + +IV + +O, well for the fortunate soul +Which Music's wings infold, +Stealing away the memory +Of sorrows new and old! +Yet happier he whose inward sight, +Stayed on his subtile thought, +Shuts his sense on toys of time, +To vacant bosoms brought. +But best befriended of the God +He who, in evil times, +Warned by an inward voice, +Heeds not the darkness and the dread, +Biding by his rule and choice, +Feeling only the fiery thread +Leading over heroic ground, +Walled with mortal terror round, +To the aim which him allures, +And the sweet heaven his deed secures. +Peril around, all else appalling, +Cannon in front and leaden rain +Him duty through the clarion calling +To the van called not in vain. + + Stainless soldier on the walls, +Knowing this,--and knows no more,-- +Whoever fights, whoever falls, +Justice conquers evermore, +Justice after as before,-- +And he who battles on her side, +God, though he were ten times slain, +Crowns him victor glorified, +Victor over death and pain. + +V + +Blooms the laurel which belongs +To the valiant chief who fights; +I see the wreath, I hear the songs +Lauding the Eternal Rights, +Victors over daily wrongs: +Awful victors, they misguide +Whom they will destroy, +And their coming triumph hide +In our downfall, or our joy: +They reach no term, they never sleep, +In equal strength through space abide; +Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, +The strong they slay, the swift outstride: +Fate's grass grows rank in valley clods, +And rankly on the castled steep,-- +Speak it firmly, these are gods, +All are ghosts beside. + + + +LOVE AND THOUGHT + +Two well-assorted travellers use +The highway, Eros and the Muse. +From the twins is nothing hidden, +To the pair is nought forbidden; +Hand in hand the comrades go +Every nook of Nature through: +Each for other they were born, +Each can other best adorn; +They know one only mortal grief +Past all balsam or relief; +When, by false companions crossed, +The pilgrims have each other lost. + + + +UNA + +Roving, roving, as it seems, +Una lights my clouded dreams; +Still for journeys she is dressed; +We wander far by east and west. + +In the homestead, homely thought, +At my work I ramble not; +If from home chance draw me wide, +Half-seen Una sits beside. + +In my house and garden-plot, +Though beloved, I miss her not; +But one I seek in foreign places, +One face explore in foreign faces. + +At home a deeper thought may light +The inward sky with chrysolite, +And I greet from far the ray, +Aurora of a dearer day. + +But if upon the seas I sail, +Or trundle on the glowing rail, +I am but a thought of hers, +Loveliest of travellers. + +So the gentle poet's name +To foreign parts is blown by fame, +Seek him in his native town, +He is hidden and unknown. + + + +BOSTON + +SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS + +The rocky nook with hilltops three + Looked eastward from the farms, +And twice each day the flowing sea + Took Boston in its arms; +The men of yore were stout and poor, +And sailed for bread to every shore. + +And where they went on trade intent + They did what freemen can, +Their dauntless ways did all men praise, + The merchant was a man. +The world was made for honest trade,-- +To plant and eat be none afraid. + +The waves that rocked them on the deep + To them their secret told; +Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, + 'Like us be free and bold!' +The honest waves refused to slaves +The empire of the ocean caves. + +Old Europe groans with palaces, + Has lords enough and more;-- +We plant and build by foaming seas + A city of the poor;-- +For day by day could Boston Bay +Their honest labor overpay. + +We grant no dukedoms to the few, + We hold like rights, and shall;-- +Equal on Sunday in the pew, + On Monday in the mall, +For what avail the plough or sail, +Or land or life, if freedom fail? + +The noble craftsman we promote, + Disown the knave and fool; +Each honest man shall have his vote, + Each child shall have his school. +A union then of honest men, +Or union never more again. + +The wild rose and the barberry thorn + Hung out their summer pride, +Where now on heated pavements worn + The feet of millions stride. + +Fair rose the planted hills behind + The good town on the bay, +And where the western hills declined + The prairie stretched away. + +What care though rival cities soar + Along the stormy coast, +Penn's town, New York and Baltimore, + If Boston knew the most! + +They laughed to know the world so wide; + The mountains said, 'Good-day! +We greet you well, you Saxon men, + Up with your towns and stay!' +The world was made for honest trade,-- +To plant and eat be none afraid. + +'For you,' they said, 'no barriers be, + For you no sluggard rest; +Each street leads downward to the sea, + Or landward to the west.' + +O happy town beside the sea, + Whose roads lead everywhere to all; +Than thine no deeper moat can be, + No stouter fence, no steeper wall! + +Bad news from George on the English throne; + 'You are thriving well,' said he; +'Now by these presents be it known + You shall pay us a tax on tea; +'Tis very small,--no load at all,-- +Honor enough that we send the call. + +'Not so,' said Boston, 'good my lord, + We pay your governors here +Abundant for their bed and board, + Six thousand pounds a year. +(Your Highness knows our homely word) + Millions for self-government, + But for tribute never a cent.' + +The cargo came! and who could blame + If _Indians_ seized the tea, +And, chest by chest, let down the same, + Into the laughing sea? +For what avail the plough or sail, +Or land or life, if freedom fail? + +The townsmen braved the English king, + Found friendship in the French, +And honor joined the patriot ring + Low on their wooden bench. + +O bounteous seas that never fail! + O day remembered yet! +O happy port that spied the sail + Which wafted Lafayette! +Pole-star of light in Europe's night, +That never faltered from the right. + +Kings shook with fear, old empires crave + The secret force to find +Which fired the little State to save + The rights of all mankind. + +But right is might through all the world; + Province to province faithful clung, +Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled, + Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung. + +The sea returning day by day + Restores the world-wide mart; +So let each dweller on the Bay + Fold Boston in his heart, +Till these echoes be choked with snows, +Or over the town blue ocean flows. + +Let the blood of her hundred thousands + Throb in each manly vein; +And the wits of all her wisest, + Make sunshine in her brain. +For you can teach the lightning speech, +And round the globe your voices reach. + +And each shall care for other, + And each to each shall bend, +To the poor a noble brother, + To the good an equal friend. + +A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers! +GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours! + + + +LETTERS + +Every day brings a ship, +Every ship brings a word; +Well for those who have no fear. +Looking seaward, well assured +That the word the vessel brings +Is the word they wish to hear. + + + +RUBIES + +They brought me rubies from the mine, + And held them to the sun; +I said, they are drops of frozen wine + From Eden's vats that run. + +I looked again,--I thought them hearts + Of friends to friends unknown; +Tides that should warm each neighboring life + Are locked in sparkling stone. + +But fire to thaw that ruddy snow, + To break enchanted ice, +And give love's scarlet tides to flow,-- + When shall that sun arise? + + + +MERLIN'S SONG + +I + +Of Merlin wise I learned a song,-- +Sing it low or sing it loud, +It is mightier than the strong, +And punishes the proud. +I sing it to the surging crowd,-- +Good men it will calm and cheer, +Bad men it will chain and cage-- +In the heart of the music peals a strain +Which only angels hear; +Whether it waken joy or rage +Hushed myriads hark in vain, +Yet they who hear it shed their age, +And take their youth again. + +II + +Hear what British Merlin sung, +Of keenest eye and truest tongue. +Say not, the chiefs who first arrive +Usurp the seats for which all strive; +The forefathers this land who found +Failed to plant the vantage-ground; +Ever from one who comes to-morrow +Men wait their good and truth to borrow. +But wilt thou measure all thy road, +See thou lift the lightest load. +Who has little, to him who has less, can spare, +And thou, Cyndyllan's son! beware +Ponderous gold and stuffs to bear, +To falter ere thou thy task fulfil,-- +Only the light-armed climb the hill. +The richest of all lords is Use, +And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse. +Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, +Drink the wild air's salubrity: +When the star Canope shines in May, +Shepherds are thankful and nations gay. +The music that can deepest reach, +And cure all ill, is cordial speech: +Mask thy wisdom with delight, +Toy with the bow, yet hit the white. +Of all wit's uses, the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +THE TEST + +(Musa loquitur.) + +I hung my verses in the wind, +Time and tide their faults may find. +All were winnowed through and through, +Five lines lasted sound and true; +Five were smelted in a pot +Than the South more fierce and hot; +These the siroc could not melt, +Fire their fiercer flaming felt, +And the meaning was more white +Than July's meridian light. +Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, +Nor time unmake what poets know. +Have you eyes to find the five +Which five hundred did survive? + + + +SOLUTION + +I am the Muse who sung alway +By Jove, at dawn of the first day. +Star-crowned, sole-sitting, long I wrought +To fire the stagnant earth with thought: +On spawning slime my song prevails, +Wolves shed their fangs, and dragons scales; +Flushed in the sky the sweet May-morn, +Earth smiled with flowers, and man was born. +Then Asia yeaned her shepherd race, +And Nile substructs her granite base,-- +Tented Tartary, columned Nile,-- +And, under vines, on rocky isle, +Or on wind-blown sea-marge bleak, +Forward stepped the perfect Greek: +That wit and joy might find a tongue, +And earth grow civil, HOMER sung. + + Flown to Italy from Greece, +I brooded long and held my peace, +For I am wont to sing uncalled, +And in days of evil plight +Unlock doors of new delight; +And sometimes mankind I appalled +With a bitter horoscope, +With spasms of terror for balm of hope. +Then by better thought I lead +Bards to speak what nations need; +So I folded me in fears, +And DANTE searched the triple spheres, +Moulding Nature at his will, +So shaped, so colored, swift or still, +And, sculptor-like, his large design +Etched on Alp and Apennine. + + Seethed in mists of Penmanmaur, +Taught by Plinlimmon's Druid power, +England's genius filled all measure +Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, +Gave to the mind its emperor, +And life was larger than before: +Nor sequent centuries could hit +Orbit and sum of SHAKSPEARE'S wit. +The men who lived with him became +Poets, for the air was fame. + + Far in the North, where polar night +Holds in check the frolic light, +In trance upborne past mortal goal +The Swede EMANUEL leads the soul. +Through snows above, mines underground, +The inks of Erebus he found; +Rehearsed to men the damned wails +On which the seraph music sails. +In spirit-worlds he trod alone, +But walked the earth unmarked, unknown, +The near bystander caught no sound,-- +Yet they who listened far aloof +Heard rendings of the skyey roof, +And felt, beneath, the quaking ground; +And his air-sown, unheeded words, +In the next age, are flaming swords. + + In newer days of war and trade, +Romance forgot, and faith decayed, +When Science armed and guided war, +And clerks the Janus-gates unbar, +When France, where poet never grew, +Halved and dealt the globe anew, +GOETHE, raised o'er joy and strife, +Drew the firm lines of Fate and Life +And brought Olympian wisdom down +To court and mart, to gown and town. +Stooping, his finger wrote in clay +The open secret of to-day. + + So bloom the unfading petals five, +And verses that all verse outlive. + + + +HYMN + +SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION +OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS + +We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;-- +In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod. + +Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, +And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place. + +And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, +And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife. + +From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, +And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again; + +For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, +Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below. + +They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, +And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way. + +On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, +Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all. + + + +NATURE I + +Winters know +Easily to shed the snow, +And the untaught Spring is wise +In cowslips and anemonies. +Nature, hating art and pains, +Baulks and baffles plotting brains; +Casualty and Surprise +Are the apples of her eyes; +But she dearly loves the poor, +And, by marvel of her own, +Strikes the loud pretender down. +For Nature listens in the rose +And hearkens in the berry's bell +To help her friends, to plague her foes, +And like wise God she judges well. +Yet doth much her love excel +To the souls that never fell, +To swains that live in happiness +And do well because they please, +Who walk in ways that are unfamed, +And feats achieve before they're named. + + + +NATURE II + +She is gamesome and good, +But of mutable mood,-- +No dreary repeater now and again, +She will be all things to all men. +She who is old, but nowise feeble, +Pours her power into the people, +Merry and manifold without bar, +Makes and moulds them what they are, +And what they call their city way +Is not their way, but hers, +And what they say they made to-day, +They learned of the oaks and firs. +She spawneth men as mallows fresh, +Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; +She drugs her water and her wheat +With the flavors she finds meet, +And gives them what to drink and eat; +And having thus their bread and growth, +They do her bidding, nothing loath. +What's most theirs is not their own, +But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, +And in their vaunted works of Art +The master-stroke is still her part. + + + +THE ROMANY GIRL + +The sun goes down, and with him takes +The coarseness of my poor attire; +The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame +Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. + +Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; +You captives of your air-tight halls, +Wear out indoors your sickly days, +But leave us the horizon walls. + +And if I take you, dames, to task, +And say it frankly without guile, +Then you are Gypsies in a mask, +And I the lady all the while. + +If on the heath, below the moon, +I court and play with paler blood, +Me false to mine dare whisper none,-- +One sallow horseman knows me good. + +Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, +For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; +My swarthy tint is in the grain, +The rocks and forest know it real. + +The wild air bloweth in our lungs, +The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, +The birds gave us our wily tongues, +The panther in our dances flies. + +You doubt we read the stars on high, +Nathless we read your fortunes true; +The stars may hide in the upper sky, +But without glass we fathom you. + + + +DAYS + +Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, +Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, +And marching single in an endless file, +Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. +To each they offer gifts after his will, +Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. +I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, +Forgot my morning wishes, hastily +Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day +Turned and departed silent. I, too late, +Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn. + + + +MY GARDEN + +If I could put my woods in song +And tell what's there enjoyed, +All men would to my gardens throng, +And leave the cities void. + +In my plot no tulips blow,-- +Snow-loving pines and oaks instead; +And rank the savage maples grow +From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red. + +My garden is a forest ledge +Which older forests bound; +The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, +Then plunge to depths profound. + +Here once the Deluge ploughed, +Laid the terraces, one by one; +Ebbing later whence it flowed, +They bleach and dry in the sun. + +The sowers made haste to depart,-- +The wind and the birds which sowed it; +Not for fame, nor by rules of art, +Planted these, and tempests flowed it. + +Waters that wash my garden-side +Play not in Nature's lawful web, +They heed not moon or solar tide,-- +Five years elapse from flood to ebb. + +Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, +And every god,--none did refuse; +And be sure at last came Love, +And after Love, the Muse. + +Keen ears can catch a syllable, +As if one spake to another, +In the hemlocks tall, untamable, +And what the whispering grasses smother. + +Aeolian harps in the pine +Ring with the song of the Fates; +Infant Bacchus in the vine,-- +Far distant yet his chorus waits. + +Canst thou copy in verse one chime +Of the wood-bell's peal and cry, +Write in a book the morning's prime, +Or match with words that tender sky? + +Wonderful verse of the gods, +Of one import, of varied tone; +They chant the bliss of their abodes +To man imprisoned in his own. + +Ever the words of the gods resound; +But the porches of man's ear +Seldom in this low life's round +Are unsealed that he may hear. + +Wandering voices in the air +And murmurs in the wold +Speak what I cannot declare, +Yet cannot all withhold. + +When the shadow fell on the lake, +The whirlwind in ripples wrote +Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, +And omens above thought. + +But the meanings cleave to the lake, +Cannot be carried in book or urn; +Go thy ways now, come later back, +On waves and hedges still they burn. + +These the fates of men forecast, +Of better men than live to-day; +If who can read them comes at last +He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay.' + + + +THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT + +Day! hast thou two faces, +Making one place two places? +One, by humble farmer seen, +Chill and wet, unlighted, mean, +Useful only, triste and damp, +Serving for a laborer's lamp? +Have the same mists another side, +To be the appanage of pride, +Gracing the rich man's wood and lake, +His park where amber mornings break, +And treacherously bright to show +His planted isle where roses glow? +O Day! and is your mightiness +A sycophant to smug success? +Will the sweet sky and ocean broad +Be fine accomplices to fraud? +O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray: +Back, back to chaos, harlot Day! + + + +THE TITMOUSE + +You shall not be overbold +When you deal with arctic cold, +As late I found my lukewarm blood +Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. +How should I fight? my foeman fine +Has million arms to one of mine: +East, west, for aid I looked in vain, +East, west, north, south, are his domain. +Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; +Must borrow his winds who there would come. +Up and away for life! be fleet!-- +The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, +Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, +Curdles the blood to the marble bones, +Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, +And hems in life with narrowing fence. +Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,-- +The punctual stars will vigil keep,-- +Embalmed by purifying cold; +The winds shall sing their dead-march old, +The snow is no ignoble shroud, +The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. + + Softly,--but this way fate was pointing, +'T was coming fast to such anointing, +When piped a tiny voice hard by, +Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, +_Chic-chic-a-dee-de!_ saucy note +Out of sound heart and merry throat, +As if it said, 'Good day, good sir! +Fine afternoon, old passenger! +Happy to meet you in these places, +Where January brings few faces.' + + This poet, though he live apart, +Moved by his hospitable heart, +Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, +To do the honors of his court, +As fits a feathered lord of land; +Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, +Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, +Prints his small impress on the snow, +Shows feats of his gymnastic play, +Head downward, clinging to the spray. + + Here was this atom in full breath, +Hurling defiance at vast death; +This scrap of valor just for play +Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, +As if to shame my weak behavior; +I greeted loud my little savior, +'You pet! what dost here? and what for? +In these woods, thy small Labrador, +At this pinch, wee San Salvador! +What fire burns in that little chest +So frolic, stout and self-possest? +Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine; +Ashes and jet all hues outshine. +Why are not diamonds black and gray, +To ape thy dare-devil array? +And I affirm, the spacious North +Exists to draw thy virtue forth. +I think no virtue goes with size; +The reason of all cowardice +Is, that men are overgrown, +And, to be valiant, must come down +To the titmouse dimension.' + + 'T is good will makes intelligence, +And I began to catch the sense +Of my bird's song: 'Live out of doors +In the great woods, on prairie floors. +I dine in the sun; when he sinks in the sea, +I too have a hole in a hollow tree; +And I like less when Summer beats +With stifling beams on these retreats, +Than noontide twilights which snow makes +With tempest of the blinding flakes. +For well the soul, if stout within, +Can arm impregnably the skin; +And polar frost my frame defied, +Made of the air that blows outside.' + + With glad remembrance of my debt, +I homeward turn; farewell, my pet! +When here again thy pilgrim comes, +He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. +Doubt not, so long as earth has bread, +Thou first and foremost shalt be fed; +The Providence that is most large +Takes hearts like thine in special charge, +Helps who for their own need are strong, +And the sky doats on cheerful song. +Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant +O'er all that mass and minster vaunt; +For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, +As 't would accost some frivolous wing, +Crying out of the hazel copse, _Phe-be!_ +And, in winter, _Chic-a-dee-dee!_ +I think old Caesar must have heard +In northern Gaul my dauntless bird, +And, echoed in some frosty wold, +Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. +And I will write our annals new, +And thank thee for a better clew, +I, who dreamed not when I came here +To find the antidote of fear, +Now hear thee say in Roman key, +_Paean! Veni, vidi, vici._ + + + +THE HARP + +One musician is sure, +His wisdom will not fail, +He has not tasted wine impure, +Nor bent to passion frail. +Age cannot cloud his memory, +Nor grief untune his voice, +Ranging down the ruled scale +From tone of joy to inward wail, +Tempering the pitch of all +In his windy cave. +He all the fables knows, +And in their causes tells,-- +Knows Nature's rarest moods, +Ever on her secret broods. +The Muse of men is coy, +Oft courted will not come; +In palaces and market squares +Entreated, she is dumb; +But my minstrel knows and tells +The counsel of the gods, +Knows of Holy Book the spells, +Knows the law of Night and Day, +And the heart of girl and boy, +The tragic and the gay, +And what is writ on Table Round +Of Arthur and his peers; +What sea and land discoursing say +In sidereal years. +He renders all his lore +In numbers wild as dreams, +Modulating all extremes,-- +What the spangled meadow saith +To the children who have faith; +Only to children children sing, +Only to youth will spring be spring. + + Who is the Bard thus magnified? +When did he sing? and where abide? + + Chief of song where poets feast +Is the wind-harp which thou seest +In the casement at my side. + + Aeolian harp, +How strangely wise thy strain! +Gay for youth, gay for youth, +(Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,) +In the hall at summer eve +Fate and Beauty skilled to weave. +From the eager opening strings +Rung loud and bold the song. +Who but loved the wind-harp's note? +How should not the poet doat +On its mystic tongue, +With its primeval memory, +Reporting what old minstrels told +Of Merlin locked the harp within,-- +Merlin paying the pain of sin, +Pent in a dungeon made of air,-- +And some attain his voice to hear, +Words of pain and cries of fear, +But pillowed all on melody, +As fits the griefs of bards to be. +And what if that all-echoing shell, +Which thus the buried Past can tell, +Should rive the Future, and reveal +What his dread folds would fain conceal? +It shares the secret of the earth, +And of the kinds that owe her birth. +Speaks not of self that mystic tone, +But of the Overgods alone: +It trembles to the cosmic breath,-- +As it heareth, so it saith; +Obeying meek the primal Cause, +It is the tongue of mundane laws. +And this, at least, I dare affirm, +Since genius too has bound and term, +There is no bard in all the choir, +Not Homer's self, the poet sire, +Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, +Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure, +Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, +Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, +Scott, the delight of generous boys, +Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,-- +Not one of all can put in verse, +Or to this presence could rehearse +The sights and voices ravishing +The boy knew on the hills in spring, +When pacing through the oaks he heard +Sharp queries of the sentry-bird, +The heavy grouse's sudden whir, +The rattle of the kingfisher; +Saw bonfires of the harlot flies +In the lowland, when day dies; +Or marked, benighted and forlorn, +The first far signal-fire of morn. +These syllables that Nature spoke, +And the thoughts that in him woke, +Can adequately utter none +Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. +Therein I hear the Parcae reel +The threads of man at their humming wheel, +The threads of life and power and pain, +So sweet and mournful falls the strain. +And best can teach its Delphian chord +How Nature to the soul is moored, +If once again that silent string, +As erst it wont, would thrill and ring. + + Not long ago at eventide, +It seemed, so listening, at my side +A window rose, and, to say sooth, +I looked forth on the fields of youth: +I saw fair boys bestriding steeds, +I knew their forms in fancy weeds, +Long, long concealed by sundering fates, +Mates of my youth,--yet not my mates, +Stronger and bolder far than I, +With grace, with genius, well attired, +And then as now from far admired, +Followed with love +They knew not of, +With passion cold and shy. +O joy, for what recoveries rare! +Renewed, I breathe Elysian air, +See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,-- +Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb! +Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil +Of life resurgent from the soil +Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil. + + + +SEASHORE + +I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea +Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come? +Am I not always here, thy summer home? +Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve? +My breath thy healthful climate in the heats, +My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath? +Was ever building like my terraces? +Was ever couch magnificent as mine? +Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn +A little hut suffices like a town. +I make your sculptured architecture vain, +Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, +And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. +Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, +Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs +Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab +Older than all thy race. + + Behold the Sea, +The opaline, the plentiful and strong, +Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, +Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; +Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, +Purger of earth, and medicine of men; +Creating a sweet climate by my breath, +Washing out harms and griefs from memory, +And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, +Giving a hint of that which changes not. +Rich are the sea-gods:--who gives gifts but they? +They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: +They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. +For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, +Wealth to the cunning artist who can work +This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! +A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? + + I with my hammer pounding evermore +The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, +Strewing my bed, and, in another age, +Rebuild a continent of better men. +Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out +The exodus of nations: I disperse +Men to all shores that front the hoary main. + + I too have arts and sorceries; +Illusion dwells forever with the wave. +I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal +With credulous and imaginative man; +For, though he scoop my water in his palm, +A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. +Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, +I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, +To distant men, who must go there, or die. + + + +SONG OF NATURE + +Mine are the night and morning, +The pits of air, the gulf of space, +The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, +The innumerable days. + +I hide in the solar glory, +I am dumb in the pealing song, +I rest on the pitch of the torrent, +In slumber I am strong. + +No numbers have counted my tallies, +No tribes my house can fill, +I sit by the shining Fount of Life +And pour the deluge still; + +And ever by delicate powers +Gathering along the centuries +From race on race the rarest flowers, +My wreath shall nothing miss. + +And many a thousand summers +My gardens ripened well, +And light from meliorating stars +With firmer glory fell. + +I wrote the past in characters +Of rock and fire the scroll, +The building in the coral sea, +The planting of the coal. + +And thefts from satellites and rings +And broken stars I drew, +And out of spent and aged things +I formed the world anew; + +What time the gods kept carnival, +Tricked out in star and flower, +And in cramp elf and saurian forms +They swathed their too much power. + +Time and Thought were my surveyors, +They laid their courses well, +They boiled the sea, and piled the layers +Of granite, marl and shell. + +But he, the man-child glorious,-- +Where tarries he the while? +The rainbow shines his harbinger, +The sunset gleams his smile. + +My boreal lights leap upward, +Forthright my planets roll, +And still the man-child is not born, +The summit of the whole. + +Must time and tide forever run? +Will never my winds go sleep in the west? +Will never my wheels which whirl the sun +And satellites have rest? + +Too much of donning and doffing, +Too slow the rainbow fades, +I weary of my robe of snow, +My leaves and my cascades; + +I tire of globes and races, +Too long the game is played; +What without him is summer's pomp, +Or winter's frozen shade? + +I travail in pain for him, +My creatures travail and wait; +His couriers come by squadrons, +He comes not to the gate. + +Twice I have moulded an image, +And thrice outstretched my hand, +Made one of day and one of night +And one of the salt sea-sand. + +One in a Judaean manger, +And one by Avon stream, +One over against the mouths of Nile, +And one in the Academe. + +I moulded kings and saviors, +And bards o'er kings to rule;-- +But fell the starry influence short, +The cup was never full. + +Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more, +And mix the bowl again; +Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements, +Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain. + +Let war and trade and creeds and song +Blend, ripen race on race, +The sunburnt world a man shall breed +Of all the zones and countless days. + +No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, +My oldest force is good as new, +And the fresh rose on yonder thorn +Gives back the bending heavens in dew. + + + +TWO RIVERS + +Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, +Repeats the music of the rain; +But sweeter rivers pulsing flit +Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. + +Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: +The stream I love unbounded goes +Through flood and sea and firmament; +Through light, through life, it forward flows. + +I see the inundation sweet, +I hear the spending of the stream +Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, +Through love and thought, through power and dream. + +Musketaquit, a goblin strong, +Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; +They lose their grief who hear his song, +And where he winds is the day of day. + +So forth and brighter fares my stream,-- +Who drink it shall not thirst again; +No darkness stains its equal gleam. +And ages drop in it like rain. + + + +WALDEINSAMKEIT + +I do not count the hours I spend +In wandering by the sea; +The forest is my loyal friend, +Like God it useth me. + +In plains that room for shadows make +Of skirting hills to lie, +Bound in by streams which give and take +Their colors from the sky; + +Or on the mountain-crest sublime, +Or down the oaken glade, +O what have I to do with time? +For this the day was made. + +Cities of mortals woe-begone +Fantastic care derides, +But in the serious landscape lone +Stern benefit abides. + +Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, +And merry is only a mask of sad, +But, sober on a fund of joy, +The woods at heart are glad. + +There the great Planter plants +Of fruitful worlds the grain, +And with a million spells enchants +The souls that walk in pain. + +Still on the seeds of all he made +The rose of beauty burns; +Through times that wear and forms that fade, +Immortal youth returns. + +The black ducks mounting from the lake, +The pigeon in the pines, +The bittern's boom, a desert make +Which no false art refines. + +Down in yon watery nook, +Where bearded mists divide, +The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, +The sires of Nature, hide. + +Aloft, in secret veins of air, +Blows the sweet breath of song, +O, few to scale those uplands dare, +Though they to all belong! + +See thou bring not to field or stone +The fancies found in books; +Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, +To brave the landscape's looks. + +Oblivion here thy wisdom is, +Thy thrift, the sleep of cares; +For a proud idleness like this +Crowns all thy mean affairs. + + + +TERMINUS + +It is time to be old, +To take in sail:-- +The god of bounds, +Who sets to seas a shore, +Came to me in his fatal rounds, +And said: 'No more! +No farther shoot +Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. +Fancy departs: no more invent; +Contract thy firmament +To compass of a tent. +There's not enough for this and that, +Make thy option which of two; +Economize the failing river, +Not the less revere the Giver, +Leave the many and hold the few. +Timely wise accept the terms, +Soften the fall with wary foot; +A little while +Still plan and smile, +And,--fault of novel germs,-- +Mature the unfallen fruit. +Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, +Bad husbands of their fires, +Who, when they gave thee breath, +Failed to bequeath +The needful sinew stark as once, +The Baresark marrow to thy bones, +But left a legacy of ebbing veins, +Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,-- +Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, +Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' + + As the bird trims her to the gale, +I trim myself to the storm of time, +I man the rudder, reef the sail, +Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: +'Lowly faithful, banish fear, +Right onward drive unharmed; +The port, well worth the cruise, is near, +And every wave is charmed.' + + + +THE NUN'S ASPIRATION + +The yesterday doth never smile, +The day goes drudging through the while, +Yet, in the name of Godhead, I +The morrow front, and can defy; +Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed, +Cannot withhold his conquering aid. +Ah me! it was my childhood's thought, +If He should make my web a blot +On life's fair picture of delight, +My heart's content would find it right. +But O, these waves and leaves,-- +When happy stoic Nature grieves, +No human speech so beautiful +As their murmurs mine to lull. +On this altar God hath built +I lay my vanity and guilt; +Nor me can Hope or Passion urge +Hearing as now the lofty dirge +Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn, +Nature's funeral high and dim,-- +Sable pageantry of clouds, +Mourning summer laid in shrouds. +Many a day shall dawn and die, +Many an angel wander by, +And passing, light my sunken turf +Moist perhaps by ocean surf, +Forgotten amid splendid tombs, +Yet wreathed and hid by summer blooms. +On earth I dream;--I die to be: +Time, shake not thy bald head at me. +I challenge thee to hurry past +Or for my turn to fly too fast. +Think me not numbed or halt with age, +Or cares that earth to earth engage, +Caught with love's cord of twisted beams, +Or mired by climate's gross extremes. +I tire of shams, I rush to be: +I pass with yonder comet free,-- +Pass with the comet into space +Which mocks thy aeons to embrace; +Aeons which tardily unfold +Realm beyond realm,--extent untold; +No early morn, no evening late,-- +Realms self-upheld, disdaining Fate, +Whose shining sons, too great for fame, +Never heard thy weary name; +Nor lives the tragic bard to say +How drear the part I held in one, +How lame the other limped away. + + + +APRIL + +The April winds are magical +And thrill our tuneful frames; +The garden walks are passional +To bachelors and dames. +The hedge is gemmed with diamonds, +The air with Cupids full, +The cobweb clues of Rosamond +Guide lovers to the pool. +Each dimple in the water, +Each leaf that shades the rock +Can cozen, pique and flatter, +Can parley and provoke. +Goodfellow, Puck and goblins, +Know more than any book. +Down with your doleful problems, +And court the sunny brook. +The south-winds are quick-witted, +The schools are sad and slow, +The masters quite omitted +The lore we care to know. + + + +MAIDEN SPEECH OF THE AEOLIAN HARP + +Soft and softlier hold me, friends! +Thanks if your genial care +Unbind and give me to the air. +Keep your lips or finger-tips +For flute or spinet's dancing chips; +I await a tenderer touch, +I ask more or not so much: +Give me to the atmosphere,-- +Where is the wind, my brother,--where? +Lift the sash, lay me within, +Lend me your ears, and I begin. +For gentle harp to gentle hearts +The secret of the world imparts; +And not to-day and not to-morrow +Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; +But day by day, to loving ear +Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. +I've come to live with you, sweet friends, +This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. +Many and subtle are my lays, +The latest better than the first, +For I can mend the happiest days +And charm the anguish of the worst. + + + +CUPIDO + +The solid, solid universe +Is pervious to Love; +With bandaged eyes he never errs, +Around, below, above. +His blinding light +He flingeth white +On God's and Satan's brood, +And reconciles +By mystic wiles +The evil and the good. + + + +THE PAST + +The debt is paid, +The verdict said, +The Furies laid, +The plague is stayed. +All fortunes made; +Turn the key and bolt the door, +Sweet is death forevermore. +Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, +Nor murdering hate, can enter in. +All is now secure and fast; +Not the gods can shake the Past; +Flies-to the adamantine door +Bolted down forevermore. +None can reenter there,-- +No thief so politic, +No Satan with a royal trick +Steal in by window, chink, or hole, +To bind or unbind, add what lacked, +Insert a leaf, or forge a name, +New-face or finish what is packed, +Alter or mend eternal Fact. + + + +THE LAST FAREWELL + +LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, +EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT +OF BOSTON HARBOR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF +PORTO RICO, IN 1832 + +Farewell, ye lofty spires +That cheered the holy light! +Farewell, domestic fires +That broke the gloom of night! +Too soon those spires are lost, +Too fast we leave the bay, +Too soon by ocean tost +From hearth and home away, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell the busy town, +The wealthy and the wise, +Kind smile and honest frown +From bright, familiar eyes. +All these are fading now; +Our brig hastes on her way, +Her unremembering prow +Is leaping o'er the sea, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, my mother fond, +Too kind, too good to me; +Nor pearl nor diamond +Would pay my debt to thee. +But even thy kiss denies +Upon my cheek to stay; +The winged vessel flies, +And billows round her play, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, my brothers true, +My betters, yet my peers; +How desert without you +My few and evil years! +But though aye one in heart, +Together sad or gay, +Rude ocean doth us part; +We separate to-day, + Far away, far away. + +Farewell, thou fairest one, +Unplighted yet to me, +Uncertain of thine own +I gave my heart to thee. +That untold early love +I leave untold to-day, +My lips in whisper move +Farewell to ...! + Far away, far away. + +Farewell I breathe again +To dim New England's shore, +My heart shall beat not when +I pant for thee no more. +In yon green palmy isle, +Beneath the tropic ray, +I murmur never while +For thee and thine I pray; + Far away, far away. + + + +IN MEMORIAM E.B.E. + +I mourn upon this battle-field, +But not for those who perished here. +Behold the river-bank +Whither the angry farmers came, +In sloven dress and broken rank, +Nor thought of fame. +Their deed of blood +All mankind praise; +Even the serene Reason says, +It was well done. +The wise and simple have one glance +To greet yon stern head-stone, +Which more of pride than pity gave +To mark the Briton's friendless grave. +Yet it is a stately tomb; +The grand return +Of eve and morn, +The year's fresh bloom, +The silver cloud, +Might grace the dust that is most proud. + + Yet not of these I muse +In this ancestral place, +But of a kindred face +That never joy or hope shall here diffuse. + + Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! +What hast thou to do with these +Haunting this bank's historic trees? +Thou born for noblest life, +For action's field, for victor's car, +Thou living champion of the right? +To these their penalty belonged: +I grudge not these their bed of death, +But thine to thee, who never wronged +The poorest that drew breath. + + All inborn power that could +Consist with homage to the good +Flamed from his martial eye; +He who seemed a soldier born, +He should have the helmet worn, +All friends to fend, all foes defy, +Fronting foes of God and man, +Frowning down the evil-doer, +Battling for the weak and poor. +His from youth the leader's look +Gave the law which others took, +And never poor beseeching glance +Shamed that sculptured countenance. + + There is no record left on earth, +Save in tablets of the heart, +Of the rich inherent worth, +Of the grace that on him shone, +Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit: +He could not frame a word unfit, +An act unworthy to be done; +Honor prompted every glance, +Honor came and sat beside him, +In lowly cot or painful road, +And evermore the cruel god +Cried "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed, +Born for success he seemed, +With grace to win, with heart to hold, +With shining gifts that took all eyes, +With budding power in college-halls, +As pledged in coming days to forge +Weapons to guard the State, or scourge +Tyrants despite their guards or walls. +On his young promise Beauty smiled, +Drew his free homage unbeguiled, +And prosperous Age held out his hand, +And richly his large future planned, +And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,-- +All, all was given, and only health denied. + + I see him with superior smile +Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train +In lands remote, in toil and pain, +With angel patience labor on, +With the high port he wore erewhile, +When, foremost of the youthful band, +The prizes in all lists he won; +Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, +And, least of all, the loyal tie +Which holds to home 'neath every sky, +The joy and pride the pilgrim feels +In hearts which round the hearth at home +Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam. + + What generous beliefs console +The brave whom Fate denies the goal! +If others reach it, is content; +To Heaven's high will his will is bent. +Firm on his heart relied, +What lot soe'er betide, +Work of his hand +He nor repents nor grieves, +Pleads for itself the fact, +As unrepenting Nature leaves +Her every act. + + Fell the bolt on the branching oak; +The rainbow of his hope was broke; +No craven cry, no secret tear,-- +He told no pang, he knew no fear; +Its peace sublime his aspect kept, +His purpose woke, his features slept; +And yet between the spasms of pain +His genius beamed with joy again. + + O'er thy rich dust the endless smile +Of Nature in thy Spanish isle +Hints never loss or cruel break +And sacrifice for love's dear sake, +Nor mourn the unalterable Days +That Genius goes and Folly stays. +What matters how, or from what ground, +The freed soul its Creator found? +Alike thy memory embalms +That orange-grove, that isle of palms, +And these loved banks, whose oak-bough bold +Root in the blood of heroes old. + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES + + * * * * * + + + +EXPERIENCE + +The lords of life, the lords of life,-- +I saw them pass +In their own guise, +Like and unlike, +Portly and grim,-- +Use and Surprise, +Surface and Dream, +Succession swift and spectral Wrong, +Temperament without a tongue, +And the inventor of the game +Omnipresent without name;-- +Some to see, some to be guessed, +They marched from east to west: +Little man, least of all, +Among the legs of his guardians tall, +Walked about with puzzled look. +Him by the hand dear Nature took, +Dearest Nature, strong and kind, +Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! +To-morrow they will wear another face, +The founder thou; these are thy race!' + + + +COMPENSATION + +The wings of Time are black and white, +Pied with morning and with night. +Mountain tall and ocean deep +Trembling balance duly keep. +In changing moon and tidal wave +Glows the feud of Want and Have. +Gauge of more and less through space, +Electric star or pencil plays, +The lonely Earth amid the balls +That hurry through the eternal halls, +A makeweight flying to the void, +Supplemental asteroid, +Or compensatory spark, +Shoots across the neutral Dark. + +Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; +Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: +Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, +None from its stock that vine can reave. +Fear not, then, thou child infirm, +There's no god dare wrong a worm; +Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, +And power to him who power exerts. +Hast not thy share? On winged feet, +Lo it rushes thee to meet; +And all that Nature made thy own, +Floating in air or pent in stone, +Will rive the hills and swim the sea, +And, like thy shadow, follow thee. + + + +POLITICS + +Gold and iron are good +To buy iron and gold; +All earth's fleece and food +For their like are sold. +Boded Merlin wise, +Proved Napoleon great, +Nor kind nor coinage buys +Aught above its rate. +Fear, Craft and Avarice +Cannot rear a State. +Out of dust to build +What is more than dust, +Walls Amphion piled +Phoebus stablish must. +When the Muses nine +With the Virtues meet, +Find to their design +An Atlantic seat, +By green orchard boughs +Fended from the heat, +here the statesman ploughs +Furrow for the wheat,-- +When the Church is social worth, +When the state-house is the hearth, +Then the perfect State is come, +The republican at home. + + + +HEROISM + +Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, +Sugar spends to fatten slaves, +Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; +Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, +Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, +Lightning-knotted round his head; +The hero is not fed on sweets, +Daily his own heart he eats; +Chambers of the great are jails, +And head-winds right for royal sails. + + + +CHARACTER + +The sun set, but set not his hope: +Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: +Fixed on the enormous galaxy, +Deeper and older seemed his eye; +And matched his sufferance sublime +The taciturnity of time. +He spoke, and words more soft than rain +Brought the Age of Gold again: +His action won such reverence sweet +As hid all measure of the feat. + + + +CULTURE + +Can rules or tutors educate +The semigod whom we await? +He must be musical, +Tremulous, impressional, +Alive to gentle influence +Of landscape and of sky, +And tender to the spirit-touch +Of man's or maiden's eye: +But, to his native centre fast, +Shall into Future fuse the Past, +And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +A ruddy drop of manly blood +The surging sea outweighs, +The world uncertain comes and goes; +The lover rooted stays. +I fancied he was fled,-- +And, after many a year, +Glowed unexhausted kindliness, +Like daily sunrise there. +My careful heart was free again, +O friend, my bosom said, +Through thee alone the sky is arched, +Through thee the rose is red; +All things through thee take nobler form, +And look beyond the earth, +The mill-round of our fate appears +A sun-path in thy worth. +Me too thy nobleness has taught +To master my despair; +The fountains of my hidden life +Are through thy friendship fair. + + + +SPIRITUAL LAWS + +The living Heaven thy prayers respect, +House at once and architect, +Quarrying man's rejected hours, +Builds therewith eternal towers; +Sole and self-commanded works, +Fears not undermining days, +Grows by decays, +And, by the famous might that lurks +In reaction and recoil, +Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; +Forging, through swart arms of Offence, +The silver seat of Innocence. + + + +BEAUTY + +Was never form and never face +So sweet to SEYD as only grace +Which did not slumber like a stone, +But hovered gleaming and was gone. +Beauty chased he everywhere, +In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. +He smote the lake to feed his eye +With the beryl beam of the broken wave; +He flung in pebbles well to hear +The moment's music which they gave. +Oft pealed for him a lofty tone +From nodding pole and belting zone. +He heard a voice none else could hear +From centred and from errant sphere. +The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, +Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. +In dens of passion, and pits of woe, +He saw strong Eros struggling through, +To sun the dark and solve the curse, +And beam to the bounds of the universe. +While thus to love he gave his days +In loyal worship, scorning praise, +How spread their lures for him in vain +Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! +He thought it happier to be dead, +To die for Beauty, than live for bread. + + + +MANNERS + +Grace, Beauty and Caprice +Build this golden portal; +Graceful women, chosen men, +Dazzle every mortal. +Their sweet and lofty countenance +His enchanted food; +He need not go to them, their forms +Beset his solitude. +He looketh seldom in their face, +His eyes explore the ground,-- +The green grass is a looking-glass +Whereon their traits are found. +Little and less he says to them, +So dances his heart in his breast; +Their tranquil mien bereaveth him +Of wit, of words, of rest. +Too weak to win, too fond to shun +The tyrants of his doom, +The much deceived Endymion +Slips behind a tomb. + + + +ART + +Give to barrows, trays and pans +Grace and glimmer of romance; +Bring the moonlight into noon +Hid in gleaming piles of stone; +On the city's paved street +Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; +Let spouting fountains cool the air, +Singing in the sun-baked square; +Let statue, picture, park and hall, +Ballad, flag and festival, +The past restore, the day adorn, +And make to-morrow a new morn. +So shall the drudge in dusty frock +Spy behind the city clock +Retinues of airy kings, +Skirts of angels, starry wings, +His fathers shining in bright fables, +His children fed at heavenly tables. +'T is the privilege of Art +Thus to play its cheerful part, +Man on earth to acclimate +And bend the exile to his fate, +And, moulded of one element +With the days and firmament, +Teach him on these as stairs to climb, +And live on even terms with Time; +Whilst upper life the slender rill +Of human sense doth overfill. + + + +UNITY + +Space is ample, east and west, +But two cannot go abreast, +Cannot travel in it two: +Yonder masterful cuckoo +Crowds every egg out of the nest, +Quick or dead, except its own; +A spell is laid on sod and stone, +Night and Day were tampered with, +Every quality and pith +Surcharged and sultry with a power +That works its will on age and hour. + + + +WORSHIP + +This is he, who, felled by foes, +Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: +He to captivity was sold, +But him no prison-bars would hold: +Though they sealed him in a rock, +Mountain chains he can unlock: +Thrown to lions for their meat, +The crouching lion kissed his feet; +Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, +But arched o'er him an honoring vault. +This is he men miscall Fate, +Threading dark ways, arriving late, +But ever coming in time to crown +The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. +He is the oldest, and best known, +More near than aught thou call'st thy own, +Yet, greeted in another's eyes, +Disconcerts with glad surprise. +This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, +Floods with blessings unawares. +Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line +Severing rightly his from thine, +Which is human, which divine. + + + +PRUDENCE + +Theme no poet gladly sung, +Fair to old and foul to young; +Scorn not thou the love of parts, +And the articles of arts. +Grandeur of the perfect sphere +Thanks the atoms that cohere. + + + +NATURE + +I + +A subtle chain of countless rings +The next unto the farthest brings; +The eye reads omens where it goes, +And speaks all languages the rose; +And, striving to be man, the worm +Mounts through all the spires of form. + +II + +The rounded world is fair to see, +Nine times folded in mystery: +Though baffled seers cannot impart +The secret of its laboring heart, +Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, +And all is clear from east to west. +Spirit that lurks each form within +Beckons to spirit of its kin; +Self-kindled every atom glows +And hints the future which it owes. + + + +THE INFORMING SPIRIT + +I + +There is no great and no small +To the Soul that maketh all: +And where it cometh, all things are; +And it cometh everywhere. + +II + +I am owner of the sphere, +Of the seven stars and the solar year, +Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, +Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. + + + +CIRCLES + +Nature centres into balls, +And her proud ephemerals, +Fast to surface and outside, +Scan the profile of the sphere; +Knew they what that signified, +A new genesis were here. + + + +INTELLECT + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals;-- +The sower scatters broad his seed; +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +GIFTS + +Gifts of one who loved me,-- +'T was high time they came; +When he ceased to love me, +Time they stopped for shame. + + +PROMISE + +In countless upward-striving waves +The moon-drawn tide-wave strives; +In thousand far-transplanted grafts +The parent fruit survives; +So, in the new-born millions, +The perfect Adam lives. +Not less are summer mornings dear +To every child they wake, +And each with novel life his sphere +Fills for his proper sake. + + + +CARITAS + +In the suburb, in the town, +On the railway, in the square, +Came a beam of goodness down +Doubling daylight everywhere: +Peace now each for malice takes, +Beauty for his sinful weeds, +For the angel Hope aye makes +Him an angel whom she leads. + + + +POWER + +His tongue was framed to music, +And his hand was armed with skill; +His face was the mould of beauty, +And his heart the throne of will. + + + +WEALTH + +Who shall tell what did befall, +Far away in time, when once, +Over the lifeless ball, +Hung idle stars and suns? +What god the element obeyed? +Wings of what wind the lichen bore, +Wafting the puny seeds of power, +Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade? +And well the primal pioneer +Knew the strong task to it assigned, +Patient through Heaven's enormous year +To build in matter home for mind. +From air the creeping centuries drew +The matted thicket low and wide, +This must the leaves of ages strew +The granite slab to clothe and hide, +Ere wheat can wave its golden pride. +What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled +(In dizzy aeons dim and mute +The reeling brain can ill compute) +Copper and iron, lead and gold? +What oldest star the fame can save +Of races perishing to pave +The planet with a floor of lime? +Dust is their pyramid and mole: +Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed +Under the tumbling mountain's breast, +In the safe herbal of the coal? +But when the quarried means were piled, +All is waste and worthless, till +Arrives the wise selecting will, +And, out of slime and chaos, Wit +Draws the threads of fair and fit. +Then temples rose, and towns, and marts, +The shop of toil, the hall of arts; +Then flew the sail across the seas +To feed the North from tropic trees; +The storm-wind wove, the torrent span, +Where they were bid, the rivers ran; +New slaves fulfilled the poet's dream, +Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam. +Then docks were built, and crops were stored, +And ingots added to the hoard. +But though light-headed man forget, +Remembering Matter pays her debt: +Still, through her motes and masses, draw +Electric thrills and ties of law, +Which bind the strengths of Nature wild +To the conscience of a child. + + + +ILLUSIONS + +Flow, flow the waves hated, +Accursed, adored, +The waves of mutation; +No anchorage is. +Sleep is not, death is not; +Who seem to die live. +House you were born in, +Friends of your spring-time, +Old man and young maid, +Day's toil and its guerdon, +They are all vanishing, +Fleeing to fables, +Cannot be moored. +See the stars through them, +Through treacherous marbles. +Know the stars yonder, +The stars everlasting, +Are fugitive also, +And emulate, vaulted, +The lambent heat lightning +And fire-fly's flight. + +When thou dost return +On the wave's circulation, +Behold the shimmer, +The wild dissipation, +And, out of endeavor +To change and to flow, +The gas become solid, +And phantoms and nothings +Return to be things, +And endless imbroglio +Is law and the world,-- +Then first shalt thou know, +That in the wild turmoil, +Horsed on the Proteus, +Thou ridest to power, +And to endurance. + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + + * * * * * + + + + +QUATRAINS + + + +A.H. + +High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, +Her manners made of bounty well refined; +Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, +Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. + + + +HUSH! + +Every thought is public, +Every nook is wide; +Thy gossips spread each whisper, +And the gods from side to side. + + + +ORATOR + +He who has no hands +Perforce must use his tongue; +Foxes are so cunning +Because they are not strong. + + + +ARTIST + +Quit the hut, frequent the palace, +Reck not what the people say; +For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, +Huntsmen find the easiest way. + + + +POET + +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Steers his bark and trims his sail; +Right out to sea his courses stand, +New worlds to find in pinnace frail. + + + +POET + +To clothe the fiery thought +In simple words succeeds, +For still the craft of genius is +To mask a king in weeds. + + + +BOTANIST + +Go thou to thy learned task, +I stay with the flowers of Spring: +Do thou of the Ages ask +What me the Hours will bring. + + + +GARDENER + +True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, +Expound the Vedas of the violet, +Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, +See the plum redden, and the beurre stoop. + + + +FORESTER + +He took the color of his vest +From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; +For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, +So walks the woodman, unespied. + + + +NORTHMAN + +The gale that wrecked you on the sand, +It helped my rowers to row; +The storm is my best galley hand +And drives me where I go. + + + +FROM ALCUIN + +The sea is the road of the bold, +Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, +The pit wherein the streams are rolled +And fountain of the rains. + + + +EXCELSIOR + +Over his head were the maple buds, +And over the tree was the moon, +And over the moon were the starry studs +That drop from the angels' shoon. + + + +S.H. + +With beams December planets dart +His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, +July was in his sunny heart, +October in his liberal hand. + + + +BORROWING + +FROM THE FRENCH + +Some of your hurts you have cured, +And the sharpest you still have survived, +But what torments of grief you endured +From evils which never arrived! + + + +NATURE + +Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, +And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: +But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, +Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die. + + + +FATE + +Her planted eye to-day controls, +Is in the morrow most at home, +And sternly calls to being souls +That curse her when they come. + + + +HOROSCOPE + +Ere he was born, the stars of fate +Plotted to make him rich and great: +When from the womb the babe was loosed, +The gate of gifts behind him closed. + + + +POWER + +Cast the bantling on the rocks, +Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, +Wintered with the hawk and fox, +Power and speed be hands and feet. + + + +CLIMACTERIC + +I am not wiser for my age, +Nor skilful by my grief; +Life loiters at the book's first page,-- +Ah! could we turn the leaf. + + + +HERI, CRAS, HODIE + +Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, +To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: +Future or Past no richer secret folds, +O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. + + + +MEMORY + +Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall +Shadows of the thoughts of day, +And thy fortunes, as they fall, +The bias of the will betray. + + + +LOVE + +Love on his errand bound to go +Can swim the flood and wade through snow, +Where way is none, 't will creep and wind +And eat through Alps its home to find. + + + +SACRIFICE + +Though love repine, and reason chafe, +There came a voice without reply,-- +''T is man's perdition to be safe, +When for the truth he ought to die.' + + + +PERICLES + +Well and wisely said the Greek, +Be thou faithful, but not fond; +To the altar's foot thy fellow seek,-- +The Furies wait beyond. + + + +CASELLA + +Test of the poet is knowledge of love, +For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; +Never was poet, of late or of yore, +Who was not tremulous with love-lore. + + + +SHAKSPEARE + +I see all human wits +Are measured but a few; +Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, +Lone as the blessed Jew. + + + +HAFIZ + +Her passions the shy violet +From Hafiz never hides; +Love-longings of the raptured bird +The bird to him confides. + + + +NATURE IN LEASTS + +As sings the pine-tree in the wind, +So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; +Her strength and soul has laughing France +Shed in each drop of wine. + + + +[Greek: ADAKRYN NEMONTAI AIONA] + +'A New commandment,' said the smiling Muse, +'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach';-- +Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, +And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore +Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. + + + + +TRANSLATIONS + + + +SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI + +Never did sculptor's dream unfold +A form which marble doth not hold +In its white block; yet it therein shall find +Only the hand secure and bold +Which still obeys the mind. +So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, +The ill I shun, the good I claim; +I alas! not well alive, +Miss the aim whereto I strive. +Not love, nor beauty's pride, +Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, +If, whilst within thy heart abide +Both death and pity, my unequal skill +Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. + + + +THE EXILE + +FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI + +In Farsistan the violet spreads +Its leaves to the rival sky; +I ask how far is the Tigris flood, +And the vine that grows thereby? + +Except the amber morning wind, +Not one salutes me here; +There is no lover in all Bagdat +To offer the exile cheer. + +I know that thou, O morning wind! +O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, +And thou, heart-warming nightingale! +My father's orchard knowest. + +The merchant hath stuffs of price, +And gems from the sea-washed strand, +And princes offer me grace +To stay in the Syrian land; + +But what is gold _for_, but for gifts? +And dark, without love, is the day; +And all that I see in Bagdat +Is the Tigris to float me away. + + + +FROM HAFIZ + +I said to heaven that glowed above, +O hide yon sun-filled zone, +Hide all the stars you boast; +For, in the world of love +And estimation true, +The heaped-up harvest of the moon +Is worth one barley-corn at most, +The Pleiads' sheaf but two. + + + +If my darling should depart, +And search the skies for prouder friends, +God forbid my angry heart +In other love should seek amends. + +When the blue horizon's hoop +Me a little pinches here, +Instant to my grave I stoop, +And go find thee in the sphere. + + + +EPITAPH + +Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest +Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; +For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, +She laid a slab of marble on his head. + + + +They say, through patience, chalk +Becomes a ruby stone; +Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood +The chalk is crimson grown. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + +Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls +Know the worth of Oman's pearls? +Give the gem which dims the moon +To the noblest, or to none. + + + +Dearest, where thy shadow falls, +Beauty sits and Music calls; +Where thy form and favor come, +All good creatures have their home. + + + +On prince or bride no diamond stone +Half so gracious ever shone, +As the light of enterprise +Beaming from a young man's eyes. + + + +FROM OMAR KHAYYAM + +Each spot where tulips prank their state +Has drunk the life-blood of the great; +The violets yon field which stain +Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. + + + +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art, +Show me the forward way, since thou art guide, +I put no faith in pilot or in chart, +Since they are transient, and thou dost abide. + + + +FROM ALI BEN ABU TALEB + +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, +And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. + + + +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, +The appointed, and the unappointed day; +On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, +Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay. + + + +FROM IBN JEMIN + +Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;-- +A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; +And the second, borrowed money,--though the smiling lender say +That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. + + + +THE FLUTE + +FROM HILALI + +Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, +Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; +Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,-- +If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I? + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM HAFIZ + +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, +Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear. + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +Not in their houses stand the stars, +But o'er the pinnacles of thine! + + + +TO THE SHAH + +FROM ENWERI + +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, +And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise. + + + +SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN + + [Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical + dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly + bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he + revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, + as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.] + +Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, +Nor head from foot can I discern, +Nor my heart from love of mine, +Nor the wine-cup from the wine. +All my doing, all my leaving, +Reaches not to my perceiving; +Lost in whirling spheres I rove, +And know only that I love. + + I am seeker of the stone, +Living gem of Solomon; +From the shore of souls arrived, +In the sea of sense I dived; +But what is land, or what is wave, +To me who only jewels crave? +Love is the air-fed fire intense, +And my heart the frankincense; +As the rich aloes flames, I glow, +Yet the censer cannot know. +I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; +Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + Ask not me, as Muftis can, +To recite the Alcoran; +Well I love the meaning sweet,-- +I tread the book beneath my feet. + + Lo! the God's love blazes higher, +Till all difference expire. +What are Moslems? what are Giaours? +All are Love's, and all are ours. +I embrace the true believers, +But I reck not of deceivers. +Firm to Heaven my bosom clings, +Heedless of inferior things; +Down on earth there, underfoot, +What men chatter know I not. + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +APPENDIX + + * * * * * + + + +THE POET + +I + +Right upward on the road of fame +With sounding steps the poet came; +Born and nourished in miracles, +His feet were shod with golden bells, +Or where he stepped the soil did peal +As if the dust were glass and steel. +The gallant child where'er he came +Threw to each fact a tuneful name. +The things whereon he cast his eyes +Could not the nations rebaptize, +Nor Time's snows hide the names he set, +Nor last posterity forget. +Yet every scroll whereon he wrote +In latent fire his secret thought, +Fell unregarded to the ground, +Unseen by such as stood around. +The pious wind took it away, +The reverent darkness hid the lay. +Methought like water-haunting birds +Divers or dippers were his words, +And idle clowns beside the mere +At the new vision gape and jeer. +But when the noisy scorn was past, +Emerge the winged words in haste. +New-bathed, new-trimmed, on healthy wing, +Right to the heaven they steer and sing. + +A Brother of the world, his song +Sounded like a tempest strong +Which tore from oaks their branches broad, +And stars from the ecliptic road. +Times wore he as his clothing-weeds, +He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. +As melts the iceberg in the seas, +As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, +As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, +The solid kingdoms like a dream +Resist in vain his motive strain, +They totter now and float amain. +For the Muse gave special charge +His learning should be deep and large, +And his training should not scant +The deepest lore of wealth or want: +His flesh should feel, his eyes should read +Every maxim of dreadful Need; +In its fulness he should taste +Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; +Full fed, but not intoxicated; +He should be loved; he should be hated; +A blooming child to children dear, +His heart should palpitate with fear. + +And well he loved to quit his home +And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam +To read new landscapes and old skies;-- +But oh, to see his solar eyes +Like meteors which chose their way +And rived the dark like a new day! +Not lazy grazing on all they saw, +Each chimney-pot and cottage door, +Farm-gear and village picket-fence, +But, feeding on magnificence, +They bounded to the horizon's edge +And searched with the sun's privilege. +Landward they reached the mountains old +Where pastoral tribes their flocks infold, +Saw rivers run seaward by cities high +And the seas wash the low-hung sky; +Saw the endless rack of the firmament +And the sailing moon where the cloud was rent, +And through man and woman and sea and star +Saw the dance of Nature forward and far, +Through worlds and races and terms and times +Saw musical order and pairing rhymes. + +II + +The gods talk in the breath of the woods, +They talk in the shaken pine, +And fill the long reach of the old seashore +With dialogue divine; +And the poet who overhears +Some random word they say +Is the fated man of men +Whom the ages must obey: +One who having nectar drank +Into blissful orgies sank; +He takes no mark of night or day, +He cannot go, he cannot stay, +He would, yet would not, counsel keep, +But, like a walker in his sleep +With staring eye that seeth none, +Ridiculously up and down +Seeks how he may fitly tell +The heart-o'erlading miracle. + +Not yet, not yet, +Impatient friend,-- +A little while attend; +Not yet I sing: but I must wait, +My hand upon the silent string, +Fully until the end. +I see the coming light, +I see the scattered gleams, +Aloft, beneath, on left and right +The stars' own ether beams; +These are but seeds of days, +Not yet a steadfast morn, +An intermittent blaze, +An embryo god unborn. + +How all things sparkle, +The dust is alive, +To the birth they arrive: +I snuff the breath of my morning afar, +I see the pale lustres condense to a star: +The fading colors fix, +The vanishing are seen, +And the world that shall be +Twins the world that has been. +I know the appointed hour, +I greet my office well, +Never faster, never slower +Revolves the fatal wheel! +The Fairest enchants me, +The Mighty commands me, +Saying, 'Stand in thy place; +Up and eastward turn thy face; +As mountains for the morning wait, +Coming early, coming late, +So thou attend the enriching Fate +Which none can stay, and none accelerate. +I am neither faint nor weary, +Fill thy will, O faultless heart! +Here from youth to age I tarry,-- +Count it flight of bird or dart. +My heart at the heart of things +Heeds no longer lapse of time, +Rushing ages moult their wings, +Bathing in thy day sublime. + +The sun set, but set not his hope:-- +Stars rose, his faith was earlier up: +Fixed on the enormous galaxy, +Deeper and older seemed his eye, +And matched his sufferance sublime +The taciturnity of Time. + +Beside his hut and shading oak, +Thus to himself the poet spoke, +'I have supped to-night with gods, +I will not go under a wooden roof: +As I walked among the hills +In the love which Nature fills, +The great stars did not shine aloof, +They hurried down from their deep abodes +And hemmed me in their glittering troop. + + 'Divine Inviters! I accept +The courtesy ye have shown and kept +From ancient ages for the bard, +To modulate +With finer fate +A fortune harsh and hard. +With aim like yours +I watch your course, +Who never break your lawful dance +By error or intemperance. +O birds of ether without wings! +O heavenly ships without a sail! +O fire of fire! O best of things! +O mariners who never fail! +Sail swiftly through your amber vault, +An animated law, a presence to exalt.' + +Ah, happy if a sun or star +Could chain the wheel of Fortune's car, +And give to hold an even state, +Neither dejected nor elate, +That haply man upraised might keep +The height of Fancy's far-eyed steep. +In vain: the stars are glowing wheels, +Giddy with motion Nature reels, +Sun, moon, man, undulate and stream, +The mountains flow, the solids seem, +Change acts, reacts; back, forward hurled, +And pause were palsy to the world.-- +The morn is come: the starry crowds +Are hid behind the thrice-piled clouds; +The new day lowers, and equal odds +Have changed not less the guest of gods; +Discrowned and timid, thoughtless, worn, +The child of genius sits forlorn: +Between two sleeps a short day's stealth, +'Mid many ails a brittle health, +A cripple of God, half true, half formed, +And by great sparks Promethean warmed, +Constrained by impotence to adjourn +To infinite time his eager turn, +His lot of action at the urn. +He by false usage pinned about +No breath therein, no passage out, +Cast wishful glances at the stars +And wishful saw the Ocean stream:-- +'Merge me in the brute universe, +Or lift to a diviner dream!' + +Beside him sat enduring love, +Upon him noble eyes did rest, +Which, for the Genius that there strove. +The follies bore that it invest. +They spoke not, for their earnest sense +Outran the craft of eloquence. + +He whom God had thus preferred,-- +To whom sweet angels ministered, +Saluted him each morn as brother, +And bragged his virtues to each other,-- +Alas! how were they so beguiled, +And they so pure? He, foolish child, +A facile, reckless, wandering will, +Eager for good, not hating ill, +Thanked Nature for each stroke she dealt; +On his tense chords all strokes were felt, +The good, the bad with equal zeal, +He asked, he only asked, to feel. +Timid, self-pleasing, sensitive, +With Gods, with fools, content to live; +Bended to fops who bent to him; +Surface with surfaces did swim. + +'Sorrow, sorrow!' the angels cried, +'Is this dear Nature's manly pride? +Call hither thy mortal enemy, +Make him glad thy fall to see! +Yon waterflag, yon sighing osier, +A drop can shake, a breath can fan; +Maidens laugh and weep; Composure +Is the pudency of man,' + +Again by night the poet went +From the lighted halls +Beneath the darkling firmament +To the seashore, to the old seawalls, +Out shone a star beneath the cloud, +The constellation glittered soon,-- +You have no lapse; so have ye glowed +But once in your dominion. +And yet, dear stars, I know ye shine +Only by needs and loves of mine; +Light-loving, light-asking life in me +Feeds those eternal lamps I see. +And I to whom your light has spoken, +I, pining to be one of you, +I fall, my faith is broken, +Ye scorn me from your deeps of blue. +Or if perchance, ye orbs of Fate, +Your ne'er averted glance +Beams with a will compassionate +On sons of time and chance, +Then clothe these hands with power +In just proportion, +Nor plant immense designs +Where equal means are none.' + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS + +Means, dear brother, ask them not; + Soul's desire is means enow, +Pure content is angel's lot, + Thine own theatre art thou. + +Gentler far than falls the snow +In the woodwalks still and low +Fell the lesson on his heart +And woke the fear lest angels part. + +POET + +I see your forms with deep content, +I know that ye are excellent, + But will ye stay? +I hear the rustle of wings, +Ye meditate what to say +Ere ye go to quit me for ever and aye. + +SPIRITS + +Brother, we are no phantom band; +Brother, accept this fatal hand. +Aches thine unbelieving heart +With the fear that we must part? +See, all we are rooted here +By one thought to one same sphere; +From thyself thou canst not flee,-- +From thyself no more can we. + +POET + +Suns and stars their courses keep, +But not angels of the deep: +Day and night their turn observe, +But the day of day may swerve. +Is there warrant that the waves +Of thought in their mysterious caves +Will heap in me their highest tide, +In me therewith beatified? +Unsure the ebb and flood of thought, +The moon comes back,--the Spirit not. + +SPIRITS + +Brother, sweeter is the Law +Than all the grace Love ever saw; +We are its suppliants. By it, we +Draw the breath of Eternity; +Serve thou it not for daily bread,-- +Serve it for pain and fear and need. +Love it, though it hide its light; +By love behold the sun at night. +If the Law should thee forget, +More enamoured serve it yet; +Though it hate thee, suffer long; +Put the Spirit in the wrong; +Brother, no decrepitude + Chills the limbs of Time; +As fleet his feet, his hands as good, + His vision as sublime: +On Nature's wheels there is no rust; +Nor less on man's enchanted dust + Beauty and Force alight. + + + +FRAGMENTS ON THE POET AND THE POETIC GIFT + +I + +There are beggars in Iran and Araby, +SAID was hungrier than all; +Hafiz said he was a fly +That came to every festival. +He came a pilgrim to the Mosque +On trail of camel and caravan, +Knew every temple and kiosk +Out from Mecca to Ispahan; +Northward he went to the snowy hills, +At court he sat in the grave Divan. +His music was the south-wind's sigh, +His lamp, the maiden's downcast eye, +And ever the spell of beauty came +And turned the drowsy world to flame. +By lake and stream and gleaming hall +And modest copse and the forest tall, +Where'er he went, the magic guide +Kept its place by the poet's side. +Said melted the days like cups of pearl, +Served high and low, the lord and the churl, +Loved harebells nodding on a rock, +A cabin hung with curling smoke, +Ring of axe or hum of wheel +Or gleam which use can paint on steel, +And huts and tents; nor loved he less +Stately lords in palaces, +Princely women hard to please, +Fenced by form and ceremony, +Decked by courtly rites and dress +And etiquette of gentilesse. +But when the mate of the snow and wind, +He left each civil scale behind: +Him wood-gods fed with honey wild +And of his memory beguiled. +He loved to watch and wake +When the wing of the south-wind whipt the lake +And the glassy surface in ripples brake +And fled in pretty frowns away +Like the flitting boreal lights, +Rippling roses in northern nights, +Or like the thrill of Aeolian strings +In which the sudden wind-god rings. +In caves and hollow trees he crept +And near the wolf and panther slept. +He came to the green ocean's brim +And saw the wheeling sea-birds skim, +Summer and winter, o'er the wave, +Like creatures of a skiey mould, +Impassible to heat or cold. +He stood before the tumbling main +With joy too tense for sober brain; +He shared the life of the element, +The tie of blood and home was rent: +As if in him the welkin walked, +The winds took flesh, the mountains talked, +And he the bard, a crystal soul +Sphered and concentric with the whole. + +II + +The Dervish whined to Said, +"Thou didst not tarry while I prayed. +Beware the fire that Eblis burned," +But Saadi coldly thus returned, +"Once with manlike love and fear +I gave thee for an hour my ear, +I kept the sun and stars at bay, +And love, for words thy tongue could say. +I cannot sell my heaven again +For all that rattles in thy brain." + +III + +Said Saadi, "When I stood before +Hassan the camel-driver's door, +I scorned the fame of Timour brave; +Timour, to Hassan, was a slave. +In every glance of Hassan's eye +I read great years of victory, +And I, who cower mean and small +In the frequent interval +When wisdom not with me resides, +Worship Toil's wisdom that abides. +I shunned his eyes, that faithful man's, +I shunned the toiling Hassan's glance." + +IV + +The civil world will much forgive +To bards who from its maxims live, +But if, grown bold, the poet dare +Bend his practice to his prayer +And following his mighty heart +Shame the times and live apart,-- +_Vae solis!_ I found this, +That of goods I could not miss +If I fell within the line, +Once a member, all was mine, +Houses, banquets, gardens, fountains, +Fortune's delectable mountains; +But if I would walk alone, +Was neither cloak nor crumb my own. +And thus the high Muse treated me, +Directly never greeted me, +But when she spread her dearest spells, +Feigned to speak to some one else. +I was free to overhear, +Or I might at will forbear; +Yet mark me well, that idle word +Thus at random overheard +Was the symphony of spheres, +And proverb of a thousand years, +The light wherewith all planets shone, +The livery all events put on, +It fell in rain, it grew in grain, +It put on flesh in friendly form, +Frowned in my foe and growled in storm, +It spoke in Tullius Cicero, +In Milton and in Angelo: +I travelled and found it at Rome; +Eastward it filled all Heathendom +And it lay on my hearth when I came home. + +V + +Mask thy wisdom with delight, +Toy with the bow, yet hit the white, +As Jelaleddin old and gray; +He seemed to bask, to dream and play +Without remoter hope or fear +Than still to entertain his ear +And pass the burning summer-time +In the palm-grove with a rhyme; +Heedless that each cunning word +Tribes and ages overheard: +Those idle catches told the laws +Holding Nature to her cause. + +God only knew how Saadi dined; +Roses he ate, and drank the wind; +He freelier breathed beside the pine, +In cities he was low and mean; +The mountain waters washed him clean +And by the sea-waves he was strong; +He heard their medicinal song, +Asked no physician but the wave, +No palace but his sea-beat cave. + +Saadi held the Muse in awe, +She was his mistress and his law; +A twelvemonth he could silence hold, +Nor ran to speak till she him told; +He felt the flame, the fanning wings, +Nor offered words till they were things, +Glad when the solid mountain swims +In music and uplifting hymns. + +Charmed from fagot and from steel, +Harvests grew upon his tongue, +Past and future must reveal +All their heart when Saadi sung; +Sun and moon must fall amain +Like sower's seeds into his brain, +There quickened to be born again. + +The free winds told him what they knew, +Discoursed of fortune as they blew; +Omens and signs that filled the air +To him authentic witness bare; +The birds brought auguries on their wings, +And carolled undeceiving things +Him to beckon, him to warn; +Well might then the poet scorn +To learn of scribe or courier +Things writ in vaster character; +And on his mind at dawn of day +Soft shadows of the evening lay. + + * * * + +Pale genius roves alone, +No scout can track his way, +None credits him till he have shown +His diamonds to the day. + +Not his the feaster's wine, +Nor land, nor gold, nor power, +By want and pain God screeneth him +Till his elected hour. + +Go, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals:-- +The sower scatters broad his seed, +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + + + +I grieve that better souls than mine +Docile read my measured line: +High destined youths and holy maids +Hallow these my orchard shades; +Environ me and me baptize +With light that streams from gracious eyes. +I dare not be beloved and known, +I ungrateful, I alone. + +Ever find me dim regards, +Love of ladies, love of bards, +Marked forbearance, compliments, +Tokens of benevolence. +What then, can I love myself? +Fame is profitless as pelf, +A good in Nature not allowed +They love me, as I love a cloud +Sailing falsely in the sphere, +Hated mist if it come near. + + + +For thought, and not praise; +Thought is the wages +For which I sell days, +Will gladly sell ages +And willing grow old +Deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold, +Melting matter into dreams, +Panoramas which I saw +And whatever glows or seems +Into substance, into Law. + + + +For Fancy's gift +Can mountains lift; +The Muse can knit +What is past, what is done, +With the web that's just begun; +Making free with time and size, +Dwindles here, there magnifies, +Swells a rain-drop to a tun; +So to repeat +No word or feat +Crowds in a day the sum of ages, +And blushing Love outwits the sages. + + + +Try the might the Muse affords +And the balm of thoughtful words; +Bring music to the desolate; +Hang roses on the stony fate. + + + +But over all his crowning grace, +Wherefor thanks God his daily praise, +Is the purging of his eye +To see the people of the sky: +From blue mount and headland dim +Friendly hands stretch forth to him, +Him they beckon, him advise +Of heavenlier prosperities +And a more excelling grace +And a truer bosom-glow +Than the wine-fed feasters know. +They turn his heart from lovely maids, +And make the darlings of the earth +Swainish, coarse and nothing worth: +Teach him gladly to postpone +Pleasures to another stage +Beyond the scope of human age, +Freely as task at eve undone +Waits unblamed to-morrow's sun. + + + +By thoughts I lead +Bards to say what nations need; +What imports, what irks and what behooves, +Framed afar as Fates and Loves. + + + +And as the light divides the dark + Through with living swords, +So shall thou pierce the distant age + With adamantine words. + + + +I framed his tongue to music, + I armed his hand with skill, +I moulded his face to beauty + And his heart the throne of Will. + + + +For every God +Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode. + + + +For art, for music over-thrilled, +The wine-cup shakes, the wine is spilled. + + + +Hold of the Maker, not the Made; +Sit with the Cause, or grim or glad. + + + +That book is good +Which puts me in a working mood. + Unless to Thought is added Will, + Apollo is an imbecile. +What parts, what gems, what colors shine,-- +Ah, but I miss the grand design. + + + +Like vaulters in a circus round +Who leap from horse to horse, but never touch the ground. + + + +For Genius made his cabin wide, +And Love led Gods therein to bide. + + + +The atom displaces all atoms beside, +And Genius unspheres all souls that abide. + + + +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +The vice of Japhet by the thought of Shem. + + + +He could condense cerulean ether +Into the very best sole-leather. + + + +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, +In mercy, on one little head. + + + +I have no brothers and no peers, +And the dearest interferes: +When I would spend a lonely day, +Sun and moon are in my way. + + + +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +Wanting the echo in my brain. + + + +He planted where the deluge ploughed. +His hired hands were wind and cloud; +His eyes detect the Gods concealed +In the hummock of the field. + + + +For what need I of book or priest, +Or sibyl from the mummied East, +When every star is Bethlehem star? +I count as many as there are +Cinquefoils or violets in the grass, +So many saints and saviors, +So many high behaviors +Salute the bard who is alive +And only sees what he doth give. + + + +Coin the day-dawn into lines +In which its proper splendor shines; +Coin the moonlight into verse +Which all its marvel shall rehearse, +Chasing with words fast-flowing things; nor try +To plant thy shrivelled pedantry +On the shoulders of the sky. + + + +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +A better voice peals through my song. + + + +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded, +A bolder foot is still rewarded. + + + +His instant thought a poet spoke, +And filled the age his fame; +An inch of ground the lightning strook +But lit the sky with flame. + + + +If bright the sun, he tarries, + All day his song is heard; +And when he goes he carries + No more baggage than a bird. + + + +The Asmodean feat is mine, +To spin my sand-heap into twine. + + + +Slighted Minerva's learned tongue, +But leaped with joy when on the wind + The shell of Clio rung. + + + + +FRAGMENTS ON NATURE AND LIFE + + +NATURE + + + +The patient Pan, +Drunken with nectar, +Sleeps or feigns slumber, +Drowsily humming +Music to the march of time. +This poor tooting, creaking cricket, +Pan, half asleep, rolling over +His great body in the grass, +Tooting, creaking, +Feigns to sleep, sleeping never; +'T is his manner, +Well he knows his own affair, +Piling mountain chains of phlegm +On the nervous brain of man, +As he holds down central fires +Under Alps and Andes cold; +Haply else we could not live, +Life would be too wild an ode. + + + +Come search the wood for flowers,-- +Wild tea and wild pea, +Grapevine and succory, +Coreopsis +And liatris, +Flaunting in their bowers; +Grass with green flag half-mast high, +Succory to match the sky, +Columbine with horn of honey, +Scented fern and agrimony; +Forest full of essences +Fit for fairy presences, +Peppermint and sassafras, +Sweet fern, mint and vernal grass, +Panax, black birch, sugar maple, +Sweet and scent for Dian's table, +Elder-blow, sarsaparilla, +Wild rose, lily, dry vanilla,-- +Spices in the plants that run +To bring their first fruits to the sun. +Earliest heats that follow frore +Nerved leaf of hellebore, +Sweet willow, checkerberry red, +With its savory leaf for bread. +Silver birch and black +With the selfsame spice +Found in polygala root and rind, +Sassafras, fern, benzoeine, +Mouse-ear, cowslip, wintergreen, +Which by aroma may compel +The frost to spare, what scents so well. + + + +Where the fungus broad and red +Lifts its head, +Like poisoned loaf of elfin bread, +Where the aster grew +With the social goldenrod, +In a chapel, which the dew +Made beautiful for God:-- +O what would Nature say? +She spared no speech to-day: +The fungus and the bulrush spoke, +Answered the pine-tree and the oak, +The wizard South blew down the glen, +Filled the straits and filled the wide, +Each maple leaf turned up its silver side. +All things shine in his smoky ray, +And all we see are pictures high; +Many a high hillside, +While oaks of pride +Climb to their tops, +And boys run out upon their leafy ropes. +The maple street +In the houseless wood, +Voices followed after, +Every shrub and grape leaf +Rang with fairy laughter. +I have heard them fall +Like the strain of all +King Oberon's minstrelsy. +Would hear the everlasting +And know the only strong? +You must worship fasting, +You must listen long. +Words of the air +Which birds of the air +Carry aloft, below, around, +To the isles of the deep, +To the snow-capped steep, +To the thundercloud. + + + +For Nature, true and like in every place, +Will hint her secret in a garden patch, +Or in lone corners of a doleful heath, +As in the Andes watched by fleets at sea, +Or the sky-piercing horns of Himmaleh; +And, when I would recall the scenes I dreamed +On Adirondac steeps, I know +Small need have I of Turner or Daguerre, +Assured to find the token once again +In silver lakes that unexhausted gleam +And peaceful woods beside my cottage door. + + + +What all the books of ages paint, I have. +What prayers and dreams of youthful genius feign, +I daily dwell in, and am not so blind +But I can see the elastic tent of day +Belike has wider hospitality +Than my few needs exhaust, and bids me read +The quaint devices on its mornings gay. +Yet Nature will not be in full possessed, +And they who truliest love her, heralds are +And harbingers of a majestic race, +Who, having more absorbed, more largely yield, +And walk on earth as the sun walks in the sphere. + + + +But never yet the man was found +Who could the mystery expound, +Though Adam, born when oaks were young, +Endured, the Bible says, as long; +But when at last the patriarch died +The Gordian noose was still untied. +He left, though goodly centuries old, +Meek Nature's secret still untold. + + + +Atom from atom yawns as far +As moon from earth, or star from star. + + + +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt + To deck the morning of the year, +Why tinge thy lustres jubilant + With forecast or with fear? + +Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, +Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die. + + + +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +To use my land to put his rainbows in. + + + +For joy and beauty planted it, + With faerie gardens cheered, +And boding Fancy haunted it + With men and women weird. + + + +What central flowing forces, say, +Make up thy splendor, matchless day? + + + +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more; +In her hundred-gated Thebes every chamber was a door, +A door to something grander,--loftier walls, and vaster floor. + + + +She paints with white and red the moors +To draw the nations out of doors. + + + +A score of airy miles will smooth +Rough Monadnoc to a gem. + + + +THE EARTH + +Our eyeless bark sails free + Though with boom and spar +Andes, Alp or Himmalee, + Strikes never moon or star. + + + +THE HEAVENS + +Wisp and meteor nightly falling, +But the Stars of God remain. + + + +TRANSITION + +See yonder leafless trees against the sky, +How they diffuse themselves into the air, +And, ever subdividing, separate +Limbs into branches, branches into twigs. +As if they loved the element, and hasted +To dissipate their being into it. + + + +Parks and ponds are good by day; +I do not delight +In black acres of the night, +Nor my unseasoned step disturbs +The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs. + + + +In Walden wood the chickadee +Runs round the pine and maple tree +Intent on insect slaughter: +O tufted entomologist! +Devour as many as you list, +Then drink in Walden water. + + + +The low December vault in June be lifted high, +And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky. + + + +THE GARDEN + +Many things the garden shows, +And pleased I stray +From tree to tree +Watching the white pear-bloom, +Bee-infested quince or plum. +I could walk days, years, away +Till the slow ripening, secular tree +Had reached its fruiting-time, +Nor think it long. + + + +Solar insect on the wing +In the garden murmuring, +Soothing with thy summer horn +Swains by winter pinched and worn. + + + +BIRDS + +Darlings of children and of bard, +Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, +All of worth and beauty set +Gems in Nature's cabinet; +These the fables she esteems +Reality most like to dreams. +Welcome back, you little nations, +Far-travelled in the south plantations; +Bring your music and rhythmic flight, +Your colors for our eyes' delight: +Freely nestle in our roof, +Weave your chamber weatherproof; +And your enchanting manners bring +And your autumnal gathering. +Exchange in conclave general +Greetings kind to each and all, +Conscious each of duty done +And unstained as the sun. + + + +WATER + +The water understands +Civilization well; +It wets my foot, but prettily +It chills my life, but wittily, +It is not disconcerted, +It is not broken-hearted: +Well used, it decketh joy, +Adorneth, doubleth joy: +Ill used, it will destroy, +In perfect time and measure +With a face of golden pleasure +Elegantly destroy. + + + +NAHANT + +All day the waves assailed the rock, + I heard no church-bell chime, +The sea-beat scorns the minster clock + And breaks the glass of Time. + + + +SUNRISE + +Would you know what joy is hid +In our green Musketaquid, +And for travelled eyes what charms +Draw us to these meadow farms, +Come and I will show you all +Makes each day a festival. +Stand upon this pasture hill, +Face the eastern star until +The slow eye of heaven shall show +The world above, the world below. + +Behold the miracle! +Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad +And stood beneath the firmament, +A watchman in a dark gray tent, +Waiting till God create the earth,-- +Behold the new majestic birth! +The mottled clouds, like scraps of wool, +Steeped in the light are beautiful. +What majestic stillness broods +Over these colored solitudes. +Sleeps the vast East in pleased peace, +Up the far mountain walls the streams increase +Inundating the heaven +With spouting streams and waves of light +Which round the floating isles unite:-- +See the world below +Baptized with the pure element, +A clear and glorious firmament +Touched with life by every beam. +I share the good with every flower, +I drink the nectar of the hour:-- +This is not the ancient earth +Whereof old chronicles relate +The tragic tales of crime and fate; +But rather, like its beads of dew +And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, +An exhalation of the time. + + * * * + + + +NIGHT IN JUNE + +I left my dreary page and sallied forth, +Received the fair inscriptions of the night; +The moon was making amber of the world, +Glittered with silver every cottage pane, +The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom. + The meadows broad +From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers +Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies +Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court +In fairy groves of herds-grass. + + + +He lives not who can refuse me; +All my force saith, Come and use me: +A gleam of sun, a summer rain, +And all the zone is green again. + + + +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, +Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, +As if on such stern forms and haunts +A wintry storm more fitly fell. + + + +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges +And split to flakes the crystal ledges. + + + +MAIA + +Illusion works impenetrable, +Weaving webs innumerable, +Her gay pictures never fail, +Crowds each on other, veil on veil, +Charmer who will be believed +By man who thirsts to be deceived. + + + +Illusions like the tints of pearl, +Or changing colors of the sky, +Or ribbons of a dancing girl +That mend her beauty to the eye. + + + +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon +To share the sunshine that so spicy is. + + + +Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, +Gropes for columns strong as he; +When his ringlets grew and curled, +Groped for axle of the world. + + + +But Nature whistled with all her winds, +Did as she pleased and went her way. + + + +LIFE + + + +A train of gay and clouded days +Dappled with joy and grief and praise, +Beauty to fire us, saints to save, +Escort us to a little grave. + + + +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, +For God hath writ all dooms magnificent, +So guilt not traverses his tender will. + + + +Around the man who seeks a noble end, +Not angels but divinities attend. + + + +From high to higher forces + The scale of power uprears, +The heroes on their horses, + The gods upon their spheres. + + + +This shining moment is an edifice +Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild. + + + +Roomy Eternity +Casts her schemes rarely, +And an aeon allows +For each quality and part +Of the multitudinous +And many-chambered heart. + + + +The beggar begs by God's command, +And gifts awake when givers sleep, +Swords cannot cut the giving hand +Nor stab the love that orphans keep. + + + +In the chamber, on the stairs, + Lurking dumb, + Go and come +Lemurs and Lars. + + + +Such another peerless queen +Only could her mirror show. + + + +Easy to match what others do, +Perform the feat as well as they; +Hard to out-do the brave, the true, +And find a loftier way: +The school decays, the learning spoils +Because of the sons of wine; +How snatch the stripling from their toils?-- +Yet can one ray of truth divine +The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine. + + + +Of all wit's uses the main one +Is to live well with who has none. + + + +The tongue is prone to lose the way, + Not so the pen, for in a letter +We have not better things to say, + But surely say them better. + + + +She walked in flowers around my field +As June herself around the sphere. + + + +Friends to me are frozen wine; +I wait the sun on them should shine. + + + +You shall not love me for what daily spends; +You shall not know me in the noisy street, +Where I, as others, follow petty ends; +Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; +Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean. +But love me then and only, when you know +Me for the channel of the rivers of God +From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow. + + + +To and fro the Genius flies, + A light which plays and hovers + Over the maiden's head +And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes. +Of her faults I take no note, + Fault and folly are not mine; +Comes the Genius,--all's forgot, +Replunged again into that upper sphere +He scatters wide and wild its lustres here. + + + +Love +Asks nought his brother cannot give; +Asks nothing, but does all receive. +Love calls not to his aid events; +He to his wants can well suffice: +Asks not of others soft consents, +Nor kind occasion without eyes; +Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, +Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,-- +Where he goes, goes before him Fate; +Whom he uniteth, God installs; +Instant and perfect his access +To the dear object of his thought, +Though foes and land and seas between +Himself and his love intervene. + + + +The brave Empedocles, defying fools, +Pronounced the word that mortals hate to hear-- +"I am divine, I am not mortal made; +I am superior to my human weeds." +Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; +Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; +That human part may be described and taught, +The other portion language cannot speak. + + + +Tell men what they knew before; +Paint the prospect from their door. + + + +Him strong Genius urged to roam, +Stronger Custom brought him home. + + + +That each should in his house abide. +Therefore was the world so wide. + + + +Thou shalt make thy house +The temple of a nation's vows. +Spirits of a higher strain +Who sought thee once shall seek again. +I detected many a god +Forth already on the road, +Ancestors of beauty come +In thy breast to make a home. + + + +The archangel Hope +Looks to the azure cope, +Waits through dark ages for the morn, +Defeated day by day, but unto victory born. + +As the drop feeds its fated flower, +As finds its Alp the snowy shower, +Child of the omnific Need, +Hurled into life to do a deed, +Man drinks the water, drinks the light. + + + +Ever the Rock of Ages melts + Into the mineral air, +To be the quarry whence to build + Thought and its mansions fair. + + + +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower, + Go match thee with thy seeming peers; +I will wait Heaven's perfect hour + Through the innumerable years. + + + +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken +Shall his own sorrow seem impertinent, +A thing that takes no more root in the world +Than doth the traveller's shadow on the rock. + + + +But if thou do thy best, +Without remission, without rest, +And invite the sunbeam, +And abhor to feign or seem +Even to those who thee should love +And thy behavior approve; +If thou go in thine own likeness, +Be it health, or be it sickness; +If thou go as thy father's son, +If thou wear no mask or lie, +Dealing purely and nakedly,-- + + * * * + + + +Ascending thorough just degrees +To a consummate holiness, +As angel blind to trespass done, +And bleaching all souls like the sun. + + + +From the stores of eldest matter, +The deep-eyed flame, obedient water, +Transparent air, all-feeding earth, +He took the flower of all their worth, +And, best with best in sweet consent, +Combined a new temperament. + + + +REX + +The bard and mystic held me for their own, +I filled the dream of sad, poetic maids, +I took the friendly noble by the hand, +I was the trustee of the hand-cart man, +The brother of the fisher, porter, swain, +And these from the crowd's edge well pleased beheld +The service done to me as done to them. + + + +With the key of the secret he marches faster, + From strength to strength, and for night brings day; +While classes or tribes, too weak to master + The flowing conditions of life, give way. + + + +SUUM CUIQUE + +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. + + + +If curses be the wage of love, +Hide in thy skies, thou fruitless Jove, + Not to be named: + It is clear + Why the gods will not appear; + They are ashamed. + + + +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port, +And the rash-leaping thunderbolt fell short. + + + +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, + Sit still and Truth is near: +Suddenly it will uplift + Your eyelids to the sphere: +Wait a little, you shall see +The portraiture of things to be. + + + +The rules to men made evident +By Him who built the day, +The columns of the firmament +Not firmer based than they. + + + +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers! +Time hath his work to do and we have ours. + + + +THE BOHEMIAN HYMN + +In many forms we try +To utter God's infinity, +But the boundless hath no form, +And the Universal Friend +Doth as far transcend +An angel as a worm. + +The great Idea baffles wit, +Language falters under it, +It leaves the learned in the lurch; +Nor art, nor power, nor toil can find +The measure of the eternal Mind, +Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. + + + +GRACE + +How much, preventing God, how much I owe +To the defences thou hast round me set; +Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,-- +These scorned bondmen were my parapet. +I dare not peep over this parapet +To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, +The depths of sin to which I had descended, +Had not these me against myself defended. + + + +INSIGHT + +Power that by obedience grows, +Knowledge which its source not knows, +Wave which severs whom it bears +From the things which he compares, +Adding wings through things to range, +To his own blood harsh and strange. + + + +PAN + +O what are heroes, prophets, men, +But pipes through which the breath of Pan doth blow +A momentary music. Being's tide +Swells hitherward, and myriads of forms +Live, robed with beauty, painted by the sun; +Their dust, pervaded by the nerves of God, +Throbs with an overmastering energy +Knowing and doing. Ebbs the tide, they lie +White hollow shells upon the desert shore, +But not the less the eternal wave rolls on +To animate new millions, and exhale +Races and planets, its enchanted foam. + + + +MONADNOC FROM AFAR + +Dark flower of Cheshire garden, + Red evening duly dyes +Thy sombre head with rosy hues + To fix far-gazing eyes. +Well the Planter knew how strongly + Works thy form on human thought; +I muse what secret purpose had he + To draw all fancies to this spot. + + + +SEPTEMBER + +In the turbulent beauty + Of a gusty Autumn day, +Poet on a sunny headland + Sighed his soul away. + +Farms the sunny landscape dappled, + Swandown clouds dappled the farms, +Cattle lowed in mellow distance + Where far oaks outstretched their arms. + +Sudden gusts came full of meaning, + All too much to him they said, +Oh, south winds have long memories, + Of that be none afraid. + +I cannot tell rude listeners + Half the tell-tale South-wind said,-- +'T would bring the blushes of yon maples + To a man and to a maid. + + + +EROS + +They put their finger on their lip, + The Powers above: + The seas their islands clip, + The moons in ocean dip, +They love, but name not love. + + + +OCTOBER + + October woods wherein +The boy's dream comes to pass, +And Nature squanders on the boy her pomp, +And crowns him with a more than royal crown, +And unimagined splendor waits his steps. +The gazing urchin walks through tents of gold, +Through crimson chambers, porphyry and pearl, +Pavilion on pavilion, garlanded, +Incensed and starred with lights and airs and shapes, +Color and sound, music to eye and ear, +Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power. + + + +PETER'S FIELD + +[Knows he who tills this lonely field + To reap its scanty corn, +What mystic fruit his acres yield + At midnight and at morn?] + +That field by spirits bad and good, + By Hell and Heaven is haunted, +And every rood in the hemlock wood + I know is ground enchanted. + +[In the long sunny afternoon + The plain was full of ghosts: +I wandered up, I wandered down, + Beset by pensive hosts.] + +For in those lonely grounds the sun + Shines not as on the town, +In nearer arcs his journeys run, + And nearer stoops the moon. + +There in a moment I have seen + The buried Past arise; +The fields of Thessaly grew green, + Old gods forsook the skies. + +I cannot publish in my rhyme + What pranks the greenwood played; +It was the Carnival of time, + And Ages went or stayed. + +To me that spectral nook appeared + The mustering Day of Doom, +And round me swarmed in shadowy troop + Things past and things to come. + +The darkness haunteth me elsewhere; + There I am full of light; +In every whispering leaf I hear + More sense than sages write. + +Underwoods were full of pleasance, + All to each in kindness bend, +And every flower made obeisance + As a man unto his friend. + +Far seen, the river glides below, + Tossing one sparkle to the eyes: +I catch thy meaning, wizard wave; + The River of my Life replies. + + + +MUSIC + +Let me go where'er I will, +I hear a sky-born music still: +It sounds from all things old, +It sounds from all things young, +From all that's fair, from all that's foul, +Peals out a cheerful song. + +It is not only in the rose, +It is not only in the bird, +Not only where the rainbow glows, +Nor in the song of woman heard, +But in the darkest, meanest things +There alway, alway something sings. + +'T is not in the high stars alone, +Nor in the cup of budding flowers, +Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, +Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, +But in the mud and scum of things +There alway, alway something sings. + + + +THE WALK + +A Queen rejoices in her peers, +And wary Nature knows her own +By court and city, dale and down, +And like a lover volunteers, +And to her son will treasures more +And more to purpose freely pour +In one wood walk, than learned men +Can find with glass in ten times ten. + + + +COSMOS + +Who saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, +Or who can date the morning. + The purple flaming of love? + +I saw the hid beginnings + When Chaos and Order strove, +And I can date the morning prime + And purple flame of love. + +Song breathed from all the forest, + The total air was fame; +It seemed the world was all torches + That suddenly caught the flame. + + * * * + +Is there never a retroscope mirror + In the realms and corners of space +That can give us a glimpse of the battle + And the soldiers face to face? + +Sit here on the basalt courses + Where twisted hills betray +The seat of the world-old Forces + Who wrestled here on a day. + + * * * + +When the purple flame shoots up, + And Love ascends his throne, +I cannot hear your songs, O birds, + For the witchery of my own. + +And every human heart + Still keeps that golden day +And rings the bells of jubilee + On its own First of May. + + + +THE MIRACLE + +I have trod this path a hundred times +With idle footsteps, crooning rhymes. +I know each nest and web-worm's tent, +The fox-hole which the woodchucks rent, +Maple and oak, the old Divan +Self-planted twice, like the banian. +I know not why I came again +Unless to learn it ten times ten. +To read the sense the woods impart +You must bring the throbbing heart. +Love is aye the counterforce,-- +Terror and Hope and wild Remorse, +Newest knowledge, fiery thought, +Or Duty to grand purpose wrought. + Wandering yester morn the brake, +I reached this heath beside the lake, +And oh, the wonder of the power, +The deeper secret of the hour! +Nature, the supplement of man, +His hidden sense interpret can;-- +What friend to friend cannot convey +Shall the dumb bird instructed say. +Passing yonder oak, I heard +Sharp accents of my woodland bird; +I watched the singer with delight,-- +But mark what changed my joy to fright,-- +When that bird sang, I gave the theme; +That wood-bird sang my last night's dream, +A brown wren was the Daniel +That pierced my trance its drift to tell, +Knew my quarrel, how and why, +Published it to lake and sky, +Told every word and syllable +In his flippant chirping babble, +All my wrath and all my shames, +Nay, God is witness, gave the names. + + + +THE WATERFALL + +A patch of meadow upland + Reached by a mile of road, +Soothed by the voice of waters, + With birds and flowers bestowed. + +Hither I come for strength + Which well it can supply, +For Love draws might from terrene force + And potencies of sky. + +The tremulous battery Earth + Responds to the touch of man; +It thrills to the antipodes, + From Boston to Japan. + +The planets' child the planet knows + And to his joy replies; +To the lark's trill unfolds the rose, + Clouds flush their gayest dyes. + +When Ali prayed and loved + Where Syrian waters roll, +Upward the ninth heaven thrilled and moved; + At the tread of the jubilant soul. + + + +WALDEN + +In my garden three ways meet, + Thrice the spot is blest; +Hermit-thrush comes there to build, + Carrier-doves to nest. + +There broad-armed oaks, the copses' maze, + The cold sea-wind detain; +Here sultry Summer overstays + When Autumn chills the plain. + +Self-sown my stately garden grows; + The winds and wind-blown seed, +Cold April rain and colder snows + My hedges plant and feed. + +From mountains far and valleys near + The harvests sown to-day +Thrive in all weathers without fear,-- + Wild planters, plant away! + +In cities high the careful crowds + Of woe-worn mortals darkling go, +But in these sunny solitudes + My quiet roses blow. + +Methought the sky looked scornful down + On all was base in man, +And airy tongues did taunt the town, + 'Achieve our peace who can!' + +What need I holier dew + Than Walden's haunted wave, +Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, + Steeped in each forest cave? + +[If Thought unlock her mysteries, + If Friendship on me smile, +I walk in marble galleries, + I talk with kings the while.] + +How drearily in College hall + The Doctor stretched the hours, +But in each pause we heard the call + Of robins out of doors. + +The air is wise, the wind thinks well, + And all through which it blows, +If plants or brain, if egg or shell, + Or bird or biped knows; + +And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed, + I heed how wears the day; +We must not halt while fiercely speed + The spans of life away. + +What boots it here of Thebes or Rome + Or lands of Eastern day? +In forests I am still at home + And there I cannot stray. + + + +THE ENCHANTER + +In the deep heart of man a poet dwells +Who all the day of life his summer story tells; +Scatters on every eye dust of his spells, +Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells +Wins the believing child with wondrous tales; +Touches a cheek with colors of romance, +And crowds a history into a glance; +Gives beauty to the lake and fountain, +Spies oversea the fires of the mountain; +When thrushes ope their throat, 't is he that sings, +And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings. +The little Shakspeare in the maiden's heart +Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart; +Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed +And gives persuasion to a gentle deed. + + + +WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF GOETHE + +Six thankful weeks,--and let it be +A meter of prosperity,-- +In my coat I bore this book, +And seldom therein could I look, +For I had too much to think, +Heaven and earth to eat and drink. +Is he hapless who can spare +In his plenty things so rare? + + + +RICHES + +Have ye seen the caterpillar + Foully warking in his nest? +'T is the poor man getting siller, + Without cleanness, without rest. + +Have ye seen the butterfly + In braw claithing drest? +'T is the poor man gotten rich, + In rings and painted vest. + +The poor man crawls in web of rags + And sore bested with woes. +But when he flees on riches' wings, + He laugheth at his foes. + + + +PHILOSOPHER + +Philosophers are lined with eyes within, +And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. +In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; +Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, +He feels it, introverts his learned eye +To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + +His mother died,--the only friend he had,-- +Some tears escaped, but his philosophy +Couched like a cat sat watching close behind +And throttled all his passion. Is't not like +That devil-spider that devours her mate +Scarce freed from her embraces? + + + +INTELLECT + +Gravely it broods apart on joy, +And, truth to tell, amused by pain. + + + +LIMITS + +Who knows this or that? +Hark in the wall to the rat: +Since the world was, he has gnawed; +Of his wisdom, of his fraud +What dost thou know? +In the wretched little beast +Is life and heart, +Child and parent, +Not without relation +To fruitful field and sun and moon. +What art thou? His wicked eye +Is cruel to thy cruelty. + + + +INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; +So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell. + + + +THE EXILE + +(AFTER TALIESSIN) + +The heavy blue chain +Of the boundless main +Didst thou, just man, endure. + + + +I have an arrow that will find its mark, +A mastiff that will bite without a hark. + + * * * * * + + + + + +VI + +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD + +1823-1834 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BELL + +I love thy music, mellow bell, + I love thine iron chime, +To life or death, to heaven or hell, + Which calls the sons of Time. + +Thy voice upon the deep + The home-bound sea-boy hails, +It charms his cares to sleep, + It cheers him as he sails. + +To house of God and heavenly joys + Thy summons called our sires, +And good men thought thy sacred voice + Disarmed the thunder's fires. + +And soon thy music, sad death-bell, + Shall lift its notes once more, +And mix my requiem with the wind + That sweeps my native shore. + +1823. + + + +THOUGHT + +I am not poor, but I am proud, + Of one inalienable right, +Above the envy of the crowd,-- + Thought's holy light. + +Better it is than gems or gold, + And oh! it cannot die, +But thought will glow when the sun grows cold, + And mix with Deity. + +BOSTON, 1823. + + + +PRAYER + +When success exalts thy lot, +God for thy virtue lays a plot: +And all thy life is for thy own, +Then for mankind's instruction shown; +And though thy knees were never bent, +To Heaven thy hourly prayers are sent, +And whether formed for good or ill, +Are registered and answered still. + +1826 [?]. + + + +I bear in youth the sad infirmities +That use to undo the limb and sense of age; +It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss +Which lit my onward way with bright presage, +And my unserviceable limbs forego. +The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, +On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, +And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. +Yet I think on them in the silent night, +Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, +And the firm soul does the pale train defy +Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. +Please God, I'll wrap me in mine innocence, +And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence. + +CAMBRIDGE, 1827. + + + +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly +Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, +God hath a select family of sons +Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone, +Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one +By constant service to, that inward law, +Is weaving the sublime proportions +Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, +The riches of a spotless memory, +The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got +By searching of a clear and loving eye +That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, +And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day +To seal the marriage of these minds with thine, +Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be +The salt of all the elements, world of the world. + + + +TO-DAY + +I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide +The resurrection of departed pride. +Safe in their ancient crannies, dark and deep, +Let kings and conquerors, saints and soldiers sleep-- +Late in the world,--too late perchance for fame, +Just late enough to reap abundant blame,-- +I choose a novel theme, a bold abuse +Of critic charters, an unlaurelled Muse. + +Old mouldy men and books and names and lands +Disgust my reason and defile my hands. +I had as lief respect an ancient shoe, +As love old things _for age_, and hate the new. +I spurn the Past, my mind disdains its nod, +Nor kneels in homage to so mean a God. +I laugh at those who, while they gape and gaze, +The bald antiquity of China praise. +Youth is (whatever cynic tubs pretend) +The fault that boys and nations soonest mend. + +1824. + + + +FAME + +Ah Fate, cannot a man + Be wise without a beard? +East, West, from Beer to Dan, + Say, was it never heard +That wisdom might in youth be gotten, +Or wit be ripe before 't was rotten? + +He pays too high a price + For knowledge and for fame +Who sells his sinews to be wise, + His teeth and bones to buy a name, +And crawls through life a paralytic +To earn the praise of bard and critic. + +Were it not better done, + To dine and sleep through forty years; +Be loved by few; be feared by none; + Laugh life away; have wine for tears; +And take the mortal leap undaunted, +Content that all we asked was granted? + +But Fate will not permit + The seed of gods to die, +Nor suffer sense to win from wit + Its guerdon in the sky, +Nor let us hide, whate'er our pleasure, +The world's light underneath a measure. + +Go then, sad youth, and shine; + Go, sacrifice to Fame; +Put youth, joy, health upon the shrine, + And life to fan the flame; +Being for Seeming bravely barter +And die to Fame a happy martyr. + +1824. + + + +THE SUMMONS + +A sterner errand to the silken troop +Has quenched the uneasy blush that warmed my cheek; +I am commissioned in my day of joy +To leave my woods and streams and the sweet sloth +Of prayer and song that were my dear delight, +To leave the rudeness of my woodland life, +Sweet twilight walks and midnight solitude +And kind acquaintance with the morning stars +And the glad hey-day of my household hours, +The innocent mirth which sweetens daily bread, +Railing in love to those who rail again, +By mind's industry sharpening the love of life-- +Books, Muses, Study, fireside, friends and love, +I loved ye with true love, so fare ye well! + + I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by +And the impatient years that trod on it +Taught me new lessons in the lore of life. +I've learned the sum of that sad history +All woman-born do know, that hoped-for days, +Days that come dancing on fraught with delights, +Dash our blown hopes as they limp heavily by. +But I, the bantling of a country Muse, +Abandon all those toys with speed to obey +The King whose meek ambassador I go. + +1826. + + + +THE RIVER + +And I behold once more +My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, +The same blue wonder that my infant eye +Admired, sage doubting whence the traveller came,-- +Whence brought his sunny bubbles ere he washed +The fragrant flag-roots in my father's fields, +And where thereafter in the world he went. +Look, here he is, unaltered, save that now +He hath broke his banks and flooded all the vales +With his redundant waves. +Here is the rock where, yet a simple child, +I caught with bended pin my earliest fish, +Much triumphing,--and these the fields +Over whose flowers I chased the butterfly +A blooming hunter of a fairy fine. +And hark! where overhead the ancient crows +Hold their sour conversation in the sky:-- +These are the same, but I am not the same, +But wiser than I was, and wise enough +Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost +Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb; +These trees and stones are audible to me, +These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, +I understand their faery syllables, +And all their sad significance. The wind, +That rustles down the well-known forest road-- +It hath a sound more eloquent than speech. +The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind, +All of them utter sounds of 'monishment +And grave parental love. +They are not of our race, they seem to say, +And yet have knowledge of our moral race, +And somewhat of majestic sympathy, +Something of pity for the puny clay, +That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind. +I feel as I were welcome to these trees +After long months of weary wandering, +Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs; +They know me as their son, for side by side, +They were coeval with my ancestors, +Adorned with them my country's primitive times, +And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. + +CONCORD, June, 1827. + + + +GOOD HOPE + +The cup of life is not so shallow +That we have drained the best, +That all the wine at once we swallow +And lees make all the rest. + +Maids of as soft a bloom shall marry +As Hymen yet hath blessed, +And fairer forms are in the quarry +Than Phidias released. + +1827. + + + +LINES TO ELLEN + +Tell me, maiden, dost thou use +Thyself thro' Nature to diffuse? +All the angles of the coast +Were tenanted by thy sweet ghost, +Bore thy colors every flower, +Thine each leaf and berry bore; +All wore thy badges and thy favors +In their scent or in their savors, +Every moth with painted wing, +Every bird in carolling, +The wood-boughs with thy manners waved, +The rocks uphold thy name engraved, +The sod throbbed friendly to my feet, +And the sweet air with thee was sweet. +The saffron cloud that floated warm +Studied thy motion, took thy form, +And in his airy road benign +Recalled thy skill in bold design, +Or seemed to use his privilege +To gaze o'er the horizon's edge, +To search where now thy beauty glowed, +Or made what other purlieus proud. + +1829. + + + +SECURITY + +Though her eye seek other forms +And a glad delight below, +Yet the love the world that warms +Bids for me her bosom glow. + +She must love me till she find +Another heart as large and true. +Her soul is frank as the ocean wind, +And the world has only two. + +If Nature hold another heart +That knows a purer flame than me, +I too therein could challenge part +And learn of love a new degree. + +1829. + + + +A dull uncertain brain, +But gifted yet to know +That God has cherubim who go +Singing an immortal strain, +Immortal here below. +I know the mighty bards, +I listen when they sing, +And now I know +The secret store +Which these explore +When they with torch of genius pierce +The tenfold clouds that cover +The riches of the universe +From God's adoring lover. +And if to me it is not given +To fetch one ingot thence +Of the unfading gold of Heaven +His merchants may dispense, +Yet well I know the royal mine, +And know the sparkle of its ore, +Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine-- +Explored they teach us to explore. + +1831. + + + +A MOUNTAIN GRAVE + +Why fear to die +And let thy body lie +Under the flowers of June, + Thy body food + For the ground-worms' brood +And thy grave smiled on by the visiting moon. + +Amid great Nature's halls +Girt in by mountain walls +And washed with waterfalls +It would please me to die, + Where every wind that swept my tomb + Goes loaded with a free perfume +Dealt out with a God's charity. + +I should like to die in sweets, +A hill's leaves for winding-sheets, +And the searching sun to see +That I am laid with decency. +And the commissioned wind to sing +His mighty psalm from fall to spring +And annual tunes commemorate +Of Nature's child the common fate. + +WILLIAMSTOWN, VERMONT, 1 June, 1831. + + + +A LETTER + +Dear brother, would you know the life, +Please God, that I would lead? +On the first wheels that quit this weary town +Over yon western bridges I would ride +And with a cheerful benison forsake +Each street and spire and roof, incontinent. +Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, +Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm, +Amid the mountain counties, Hants, Franklin, Berks, +Where down the rock ravine a river roars, +Even from a brook, and where old woods +Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground +With their centennial wrecks. +Find me a slope where I can feel the sun +And mark the rising of the early stars. +There will I bring my books,--my household gods, +The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell +In the sweet odor of her memory. +Then in the uncouth solitude unlock +My stock of art, plant dials in the grass, +Hang in the air a bright thermometer +And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun. + +CHARDON ST., BOSTON, 1831. + + + +Day by day returns +The everlasting sun, +Replenishing material urns +With God's unspared donation; +But the day of day, +The orb within the mind, +Creating fair and good alway, +Shines not as once it shined. + + * * * + +Vast the realm of Being is, +In the waste one nook is his; +Whatsoever hap befalls +In his vision's narrow walls +He is here to testify. + +1831. + + + +HYMN + +There is in all the sons of men +A love that in the spirit dwells, +That panteth after things unseen, +And tidings of the future tells. + +And God hath built his altar here +To keep this fire of faith alive, +And sent his priests in holy fear +To speak the truth--for truth to strive. + +And hither come the pensive train +Of rich and poor, of young and old, +Of ardent youth untouched by pain, +Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold. + +They seek a friend to speak the word +Already trembling on their tongue, +To touch with prophet's hand the chord +Which God in human hearts hath strung. + +To speak the plain reproof of sin +That sounded in the soul before, +And bid you let the angels in +That knock at meek contrition's door. + +A friend to lift the curtain up +That hides from man the mortal goal, +And with glad thoughts of faith and hope +Surprise the exulting soul. + +Sole source of light and hope assured, +O touch thy servant's lips with power, +So shall he speak to us the word +Thyself dost give forever more. + +June, 1831. + + + +SELF-RELIANCE + +Henceforth, please God, forever I forego +The yoke of men's opinions. I will be +Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God. +I find him in the bottom of my heart, +I hear continually his voice therein. + + * * * + +The little needle always knows the North, +The little bird remembereth his note, +And this wise Seer within me never errs. +I never taught it what it teaches me; +I only follow, when I act aright. + +October 9, 1832. + + + +And when I am entombed in my place, +Be it remembered of a single man, +He never, though he dearly loved his race, +For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. + + + +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +Of minds that each can stand against the world +By its own meek and incorruptible will? + + + +The days pass over me +And I am still the same; +The aroma of my life is gone +With the flower with which it came. + +1833. + + + +WRITTEN IN NAPLES + +We are what we are made; each following day +Is the Creator of our human mould +Not less than was the first; the all-wise God +Gilds a few points in every several life, +And as each flower upon the fresh hillside, +And every colored petal of each flower, +Is sketched and dyed, each with a new design, +Its spot of purple, and its streak of brown, +So each man's life shall have its proper lights, +And a few joys, a few peculiar charms, +For him round in the melancholy hours +And reconcile him to the common days. +Not many men see beauty in the fogs +Of close low pine-woods in a river town; +Yet unto me not morn's magnificence, +Nor the red rainbow of a summer eve, +Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls +Of rich men blazing hospitable light, +Nor wit, nor eloquence,--no, nor even the song +Of any woman that is now alive,-- +Hath such a soul, such divine influence, +Such resurrection of the happy past, +As is to me when I behold the morn +Ope in such law moist roadside, and beneath +Peep the blue violets out of the black loam, +Pathetic silent poets that sing to me +Thine elegy, sweet singer, sainted wife. + +March, 1833. + + + +WRITTEN AT ROME + +Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too;-- +Besides, you need not be alone; the soul +Shall have society of its own rank. +Be great, be true, and all the Scipios, +The Catos, the wise patriots of Rome, +Shall flock to you and tarry by your side, +And comfort you with their high company. +Virtue alone is sweet society, +It keeps the key to all heroic hearts, +And opens you a welcome in them all. +You must be like them if you desire them, +Scorn trifles and embrace a better aim +Than wine or sleep or praise; +Hunt knowledge as the lover wooes a maid, +And ever in the strife of your own thoughts +Obey the nobler impulse; that is Rome: +That shall command a senate to your side; +For there is no might in the universe +That can contend with love. It reigns forever. +Wait then, sad friend, wait in majestic peace +The hour of heaven. Generously trust +Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand +That until now has put his world in fee +To thee. He watches for thee still. His love +Broods over thee, and as God lives in heaven, +However long thou walkest solitary, +The hour of heaven shall come, the man appear. + +1833. + + + +WEBSTER + +1831 + +Let Webster's lofty face +Ever on thousands shine, +A beacon set that Freedom's race +Might gather omens from that radiant sign. + + + +FROM THE PHI BETA KAPPA POEM + +1834 + +Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave +For living brows; ill fits them to receive: +And yet, if virtue abrogate the law, +One portrait--fact or fancy--we may draw; +A form which Nature cast in the heroic mould +Of them who rescued liberty of old; +He, when the rising storm of party roared, +Brought his great forehead to the council board, +There, while hot heads perplexed with fears the state, +Calm as the morn the manly patriot sate; +Seemed, when at last his clarion accents broke, +As if the conscience of the country spoke. +Not on its base Monadnoc surer stood, +Than he to common sense and common good: +No mimic; from his breast his counsel drew, +Believed the eloquent was aye the true; +He bridged the gulf from th' alway good and wise +To that within the vision of small eyes. +Self-centred; when he launched the genuine word +It shook or captivated all who heard, +Ran from his mouth to mountains and the sea, +And burned in noble hearts proverb and prophecy. + + + +1854 + +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +He wrote on Nature's grandest brow, _For Sale_. + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +A dull uncertain brain +"A new commandment," said the smiling Muse +A patch of meadow upland +A queen rejoices in her peers +A ruddy drop of manly blood +A score of airy miles will smooth +A sterner errand to the silken troop +A subtle chain of countless rings +A train of gay and clouded days +Ah Fate, cannot a man +Ah, not to me those dreams belong! +All day the waves assailed the rock +Alone in Rome. Why, Rome is lonely too +Already blushes on thy cheek +And as the light divides the dark +And Ellen, when the graybeard years +And I behold once more +And when I am entombed in my place +Announced by all the trumpets of the sky +Around the man who seeks a noble end +Ascending thorough just degrees +Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?' +As sings the pine-tree in the wind +As sunbeams stream through liberal space +As the drop feeds its fated flower +Atom from atom yawns as far + +Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly +Because I was content with these poor fields +Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest +Blooms the laurel which belongs +Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold +Bring me wine, but wine which never grew +Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint +Burly, dozing humble-bee +But God said +But if thou do thy best +But Nature whistled with all her winds +But never yet the man was found +But over all his crowning grace +By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave +By the rude bridge that arched the flood +By thoughts I lead + +Can rules or tutors educate +Cast the bantling on the rocks +Coin the day dawn into lines + +Dark flower of Cheshire garden +Darlings of children and of bard +Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring +Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days +Day by day for her darlings to her much she added more +Day by day returns +Day! hast thou two faces +Dear brother, would you know the life +Dearest, where thy shadow falls +Deep in the man sits fast his fate + +Each spot where tulips prank their state +Each the herald is who wrote +Easy to match what others do +Ere he was born, the stars of fate +Ever the Poet _from_ the land +Ever the Rock of Ages melts +Every day brings a ship +Every thought is public + +Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well +Farewell, ye lofty spires +Flow, flow the waves hated +For art, for music over-thrilled +For every God +For Fancy's gift +For Genius made his cabin wide +For joy and beauty planted it +For Nature, true and like in every place +For thought, and not praise +For what need I of book or priest +Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread +Freedom all winged expands +Friends to me are frozen wine +From fall to spring, the russet acorn +From high to higher forces +From the stores of eldest matter +From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate + +Gifts of one who loved me +Give all to love +Give me truths +Give to barrows, trays and pans +Go if thou wilt, ambrosial flower +Go speed the stars of Thought +Go thou to thy learned task +Gold and iron are good +Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home +Grace, Beauty and Caprice +Gravely it broods apart on joy + +Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains +Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? +Have ye seen the caterpillar +He could condense cerulean ether +He lives not who can refuse me +He planted where the deluge ploughed +He took the color of his vest +He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare +He who has no hands +Hear what British Merlin sung +Henceforth, please God, forever I forego +Her passions the shy violet +Her planted eye to-day controls +High was her heart, and yet was well inclined +Him strong Genius urged to roam +His instant thought a poet spoke +His tongue was framed to music +Hold of the Maker, not the Made +How much, preventing God, how much I owe + +I, Alphonso, live and learn +I am not poor but I am proud +I am not wiser for my age +I am the Muse who sung alway +I bear in youth and sad infirmities +I cannot spare water or wine +I do not count the hours I spend +I framed his tongue to music +I grieve that better souls than mine +I have an arrow that will find its mark +I have no brothers and no peers +I have trod this path a hundred times +I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea +I hung my verses in the wind +I left my dreary page and sallied forth +I like a church; I like a cowl +I love thy music, mellow bell +I mourn upon this battle-field +I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide +I reached the middle of the mount +I said to heaven that glowed above +I see all human wits +I serve you not, if you I follow +If bright the sun, he tarries +If curses be the wage of love +If I could put my woods in song +If my darling should depart +If the red slayer think he slays +Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave +Illusions like the tints of pearl +Illusion works impenetrable +In an age of fops and toys +In countless upward-striving waves +In Farsistan the violet spreads +In many forms we try +In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes +In my garden three ways meet +In the chamber, on the stairs +In the deep heart of man a poet dwells +In the suburb, in the town +In the turbulent beauty +In Walden wood the chickadee +It fell in the ancient periods +It is time to be old + +Knows he who tills this lonely field + +Let me go where'er I will +Let Webster's lofty face +Like vaulters in a circus round +Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown +Long I followed happy guides +Love asks nought his brother cannot give +Love on his errand bound to go +Love scatters oil +Low and mournful be the strain + +Man was made of social earth +Many things the garden shows +May be true what I had heard +Mine and yours +Mine are the night and morning +Mortal mixed of middle clay + +Nature centres into balls +Never did sculptor's dream unfold +Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall +No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low +Not in their houses stand the stars + +October woods wherein +O fair and stately maid, whose eyes +O pity that I pause! +O tenderly the haughty day +O well for the fortunate soul +O what are heroes, prophets, men +Of all wit's uses the main one +Of Merlin wise I learned a song +Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship +On a mound an Arab lay +On bravely through the sunshine and the showers +On prince or bride no diamond stone +On two days it steads not to run from thy grave +Once I wished I might rehearse +One musician is sure +Our eyeless bark sails free +Over his head were the maple buds + +Pale genius roves alone +Parks and ponds are good by day +Philosophers are lined with eyes within +Power that by obedience grows +Put in, drive home the sightless wedges + +Quit the hut, frequent the palace + +Right upward on the road of fame +Roomy Eternity +Roving, roving, as it seems +Ruby wine is drunk by knaves + +Samson stark at Dagon's knee +See yonder leafless trees against the sky +Seek not the spirit, if it hide +Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants +Set not thy foot on graves +She is gamesome and good +She paints with white and red the moors +She walked in flowers around my field +Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen +Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift +Six thankful weeks,--and let it be +Slighted Minerva's learned tongue +Soft and softlier hold me, friends! +Solar insect on the wing +Some of your hurts you have cured +Space is ample, east and west +Spin the ball! I reel, I burn +Such another peerless queen +Sudden gusts came full of meaning + +Tell me, maiden, dost thou use +Tell men what they knew before +Test of the poet is knowledge of love +Thanks to the morning light +That book is good +That each should in his house abide +That you are fair or wise is vain +The April winds are magical +The archangel Hope +The Asmodean feat is mine +The atom displaces all atoms beside +The bard and mystic held me for their own +The beggar begs by God's command +The brave Empedocles, defying fools +The brook sings on, but sings in vain +The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth +The cup of life is not so shallow +The days pass over me +The debt is paid +The gale that wrecked you on the sand +The green grass is bowing +The heavy blue chain +The living Heaven thy prayers respect +The lords of life, the lords of life +The low December vault in June be lifted high +Theme no poet gladly sung +The mountain and the squirrel +The Muse's hill by Fear is guarded +The patient Pan +The prosperous and beautiful +The rhyme of the poet +The rocky nook with hilltops three +The rules to men made evident +The sea is the road of the bold +The sense of the world is short +The solid, solid universe +The South-wind brings +The Sphinx is drowsy +The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin +The sun goes down, and with him takes +The sun set, but set not his hope +The tongue is prone to lose the way +The water understands +The wings of Time are black and white +The word of the Lord by night +The yesterday doth never smile +Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes +There are beggars in Iran and Araby +There is in all the sons of men +There is no great and no small +There is no architect +They brought me rubies from the mine +They put their finger on their lips +They say, through patience, chalk +Thine eyes still shined for me, though far +Think me not unkind and rude +This is he, who, felled by foes +This shining moment is an edifice +Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls +Thou shalt make thy house +Though her eyes seek other forms +Though loath to grieve +Though love repine and reason chafe +Thousand minstrels woke within me +Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down +Thy summer voice, Musketaquit +Thy trivial harp will never please +To and fro the Genius flies +To clothe the fiery thought +To transmute crime to wisdom, so to stem +Trees in groves +True Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet +Try the might the Muse affords +Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene +Two well-assorted travellers use + +Unbar the door, since thou the Opener art + +Venus, when her son was lost + +Was never form and never face +We are what we are made; each following day +We crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends +We love the venerable house +Well and wisely said the Greek +What all the books of ages paint, I have +What care I, so they stand the same +What central flowing forces, say +When all their blooms the meadows flaunt +When I was born +When success exalts thy lot +When the pine tosses its cones +When wrath and terror changed Jove's regal port +Who gave thee, O Beauty +Who knows this or that? 375. +Who saw the hid beginnings +Who shall tell what did befall +Why did all manly gifts in Webster fail? +Why fear to die +Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year +Why should I keep holiday +Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? +Winters know +Wise and polite,--and if I drew +Wisp and meteor nightly falling +With beams December planets dart +With the key of the secret he marches faster +Would you know what joy is hid + +Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken +You shall not be overbold +You shall not love me for what daily spends +Your picture smiles as first it smiled + + * * * * * + + + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + +[The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal +divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the +subdivisions of long poems.] + +A.H. +[Greek: Adakryn nemontai Aiona] +Adirondacs, The +Alcuin, From +Ali Ben Abu Taleb, From +Alphonso of Castile +Amulet, The +Apology, The +April +Art +Artist +Astraea + +Bacchus +Beauty +Bell, The +Berrying +Birds +Blight +Boece, Etienne de la +Bohemian Hymn, The +Borrowing +Boston +Boston Hymn, read in Music Hall, January 1, 1863 +Botanist +Brahma + +Caritas +Casella +Celestial Love, The +Channing, W.H., Ode inscribed to +Character +Chartist's Complaint, The +Circles +Climacteric +Compensation +Concord Hymn +Concord, Ode Sung in the Town Hall, July 4, 1857 +Cosmos +Culture +Cupido + +Daemonic Love, The +Day's Ration, The +Days +Destiny +Dirge + +Each and All +Earth, The +Earth-Song +ELEMENTS AND MOTTOES +Ellen, To +Ellen, Lines to +Enchanter, The +Epitaph +Eros +Eva, To +Excelsior +Exile, The +Experience + +Fable +Fame +Fate +Flute, The +Forbearance +Forerunners +Forester +Fragments on Nature and Life +Fragments on the Poet and the Poetic Gift +Freedom +Friendship + +Garden, The +Garden, My +Gardener +Gifts +Give all to Love +Good-bye +Good Hope +Grace +Guy + +Hafiz +Hafiz, From +Hamatreya +Harp, The +Heavens, The +Heri, Cras, Hodie +Hermione +Heroism +Holidays +Horoscope +House, The +Humble-Bee, The +Hush! +Hymn +Hymn sung at the Second Church, Boston, at the Ordination of + Rev. Chandler Robbins + +Ibn Jemin, From +Illusions +Informing Spirit, The +In Memoriam +Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love +Initial Love, The +Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War +Insight +Intellect + +J.W., To + +Last Farewell, The +Letter, A +Letters +Life +Limits +Lines by Ellen Louise Tucker +Lines to Ellen +Love +Love and Thought + +Maia +Maiden Speech of the Aeolian Harp +Manners +MAY-DAY AND OTHER PIECES +May-Day +Memory +Merlin +Merlin's Song +Merops +Miracle, The +Mithridates +Monadnoc +Monadnoc from afar +Mountain Grave, A +Music +Musketaquid +My Garden + +Nahant +Nature +Nature in Leasts +Nemesis +Night in June +Northman +Nun's Aspiration, The + +October +Ode, inscribed to W.H. Channing +Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857 +Ode to Beauty +Omar Khayyam, From +Orator + +Pan +Park, The +Past, The +Pericles +Peter's Field +Phi Beta Kappa Poem, From the +Philosopher +POEMS OF YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD +Poet +Poet, The +Politics +Power +Prayer +Problem, The +Promise +Prudence + +QUATRAINS AND TRANSLATIONS + +Rex +Rhea, To +Rhodora, The +Riches +River, The +Romany Girl, The +Rubies + +S.H. +Saadi +Sacrifice +Seashore +Security +September +Shah, To the +Shakspeare +Snow-Storm, The +Solution +Song of Nature +Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan +Sonnet of Michel Angelo Buonarotti +Sphinx, The +Spiritual Laws +Summons, The +Sunrise +Sursum Corda +"Suum Cuique" + +Terminus +Test, The +Thine Eyes still Shined +Thought +Threnody +Titmouse, The +To-Day +To Ellen at the South +To Ellen +To Eva +To J.W. +To Rhea +To the Shah +Transition +Translations +Two Rivers + +Una +Unity +Uriel + +Violet, The +Visit, The +Voluntaries + +Waldeinsamkeit +Walden +Walk, The +Water +Waterfall, The +Wealth +Webster +Woodnotes +World-Soul, The +Worship +Written at Rome, 1883 +Written in a Volume of Goethe +Written in Naples, March, 1883 + +Xenophanes + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 12843.txt or 12843.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/8/4/12843/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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