The sunshine bursting after rain— The gladness insecure
That makes us fain strong hearts to gain, To do and to endure.
High natures must be thunder-scarred With many a searing wrong;
From mother Sorrow's breasts the bard Sucks gifts of deepest song,
Nor all unmarred with struggles hard Wax the Soul's sinews strong.
Dear Patience, too, is born of woe, Patience that opes the gate Wherethrough the soul of man must go Up to each nobler state,
Whose voice's flow so meek and low Smooths the bent brows of Fate.
Though Fame be slow, yet Death is swift, And, o'er the spirit's eyes,
Life after life doth change and shift With larger destinies :
As on we drift, some wider rift Shows us serener skies.
And though naught falleth to us here But gains the world counts loss, Though all we hope of wisdom clear When climbed to seems but dross, Yet all, though ne'er Christ's faith they wear, At least may share his cross.
FAREWELL! as the bee round the blossom
Doth murmur drowsily,
So murmureth round my bosom
The memory of thee;
Lingering, it seems to go,
When the wind more full doth flow,
Waving the flower to and fro,
But still returneth, Marian!
My hope no longer burneth, Which did so fiercely burn, My joy to sorrow turneth, Although loath, loath to turn I would forget-
And yet and yet
My heart to thee still yearneth, Marian!
Fair as a single star thou shinest,
And white as lilies are
The slender hands wherewith thou twinest
Thy heavy auburn hair;
Thou art to me
A memory
Of all that is divinest: Thou art so fair and tall, Thy looks so queenly are, Thy very shadow on the wall, Thy step upon the stair,
The thought that thou art nigh, The chance look of thine eye Are more to me than all, Marian, And will be till I die!
As the last quiver of a bell
Doth fade into the air,
With a subsiding swell
That dies we know not where, So my hope melted and was gone: I raised mine eyes to bless the star That shared its light with me so far Below its silver throne,
And gloom and chilling vacancy Were all was left to me,
In the dark, bleak night I was alone! Alone in the blessed Earth, Marian, For what were all to me
Its love, and light, and mirth, Marian, If I were not with thee?
My heart will not forget thee More than the moaning brine
Forgets the moon when she is set; The gush when first I met thee
That thrilled my brain like wine, Doth thrill as madly yet; My heart cannot forget thee, Though it may droop and pine, Too deeply it had set thee In every love of mine; No new moon ever cometh, No flower ever bloometh, No twilight ever gloometh But I'm more only thine. Oh look not on me, Marian, Thine eyes are wild and deep, And they have won me, Marian, From peacefulness and sleep; The sunlight doth not sun me, The meek moonshine doth shun me, All sweetest voices stun me There is no rest
Within my breast
And I can only weep, Marian!
As a landbird far at sea Doth wander through the sleet And drooping downward wearily Finds no rest for her feet, So wandereth my memory O'er the years when we did meet: I used to say that everything Partook a share of thee, That not a little bird could sing, Or green leaf flutter on a tree, That nothing could be beautiful Save part of thee were there, That from thy soul so clear and full All bright and blessed things did cull The charm to make them fair; And now I know
Thy spirit through the earth doth flow And face me wheresoe'er I go
What right hath perfectness to give
Such weary weight of woe
Unto the soul which cannot live
On anything more low?
Oh leave me, leave me, Marian, There's no fair thing I see But doth deceive me, Marian, Into sad dreams of thee!
A cold snake gnaws my heart And crushes round my brain, And I should glory but to part So bitterly again,
Feeling the slow tears start And fall in fiery rain:
There's a wide ring round the moon, The ghost-like clouds glide by, And I hear the sad winds croon A dirge to the lowering sky; There's nothing soft or mild In the pale moon's sickly light, But all looks strange and wild Through the dim, foreboding night: I think thou must be dead
In some dark and lonely place, With candles at thy head, And a pall above thee spread To hide thy dead, cold face; But I can see thee underneath So pale, and still, and fair,
Thine eyes closed smoothly and a wreath. Of flowers in thy hair;
I never saw thy face so clear
When thou wast with the living, As now beneath the pall, so drear, And stiff, and unforgiving;
I cannot flee thee, Marian,
I cannot turn away,
Mine eyes must see thee, Marian, Through salt tears night and day.
Cold earth is thy cover; But thy heart hath found release, And it slumbers full of peace 'Neath the rustle of green trees And the warm hum of the bees, Mid the drowsy clover;
Through thy chamber, still as death, A smooth gurgle wandereth, As the blue stream murmureth To the blue sky over.
Three paces from the silver strand, Gently in the fine, white sand, With a lily in thy hand,
Pale as snow, they laid thee; In no coarse earth wast thou hid, And no gloomy coffin-lid
Darkly overweighed thee. Silently as snow-flakes drift, The smooth sand did sift and sift O'er the bed they made thee; All sweet birds did come and sing At thy sunny burying-
Choristers unbidden,
And, beloved of sun and dew, Meek forget-me-nots upgrew Where thine eyes so large and blue 'Neath the turf were hidden.
Where thy stainless clay doth lie, Blue and open is the sky,
And the white clouds wander by, Dreams of summer silently
Darkening the river;
Thou hearest the clear water run; And the ripples every one, Scattering the golden sun,
Through thy silence quiver; Vines trail down upon the stream, Into its smooth and glassy dream A green stillness spreading, And the shiner, perch, and bream Through the shadowed waters gleam 'Gainst the current heading.
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