II. BY THE FIRESIDE. 1. Is all our fire of shipwreck wood, Oak and pine? Oh, for the ills half-understood, The dim, dead woe Long ago Befallen this bitter coast of France! Well, poor sailors took their chance; I take mine. 2. A ruddy shaft our fire must shoot O'er the sea: Do sailors eye the casement-mute, Drenched and stark, From their bark— And envy, gnash their teeth for hate O' the warm safe house and happy freight 3. God help you, sailors, at your need! Spare the curse! For some ships, safe in port indeed, Rot and rust, Run to dust, All through worms i' the wood, which crept, That is worse! 4. Who lived here before us two? Old-world pairs! Did a woman ever-would I knew!— Watch the man With whom began Love's voyage full-sail,-(now, gnash your teeth!) When planks start, open hell beneath Unawares ? III. IN THE DOORWAY. 1. The swallow has set her six young on the rail, And looks sea-ward: The water's in stripes like a snake, olive-pale On the weather-side, black, spotted white with the wind: "Good fortune departs, and disaster's behind,”— Hark, the wind with its wants and its infinite wail ! 2. Our fig-tree, that leaned for the saltness, has furled Each leaf like a hand opened wide to the world Where there lingers No glint of the gold, Summer sent for her sake: How the vines writhe in rows, each impaled on its stake! My heart shrivels up, and my spirit shrinks curled. 3. Yet here are we two; we have love, house enough, This house of four rooms, that field red and rough, For the rabbit that robs, scarce a blade or a bent; And they both will be gone at November's rebuff. 4. But why must cold spread? but wherefore bring change To the spirit, God meant should mate His with an infinite range, And inherit His power to put life in the darkness and cold? Oh, live and love worthily, bear and be bold! Whom Summer made friends of, let Winter estrange! IV. ALONG THE BEACH. 1. I will be quiet and talk with you, What has come of it all along? 2. I took you-how could I otherwise? For all, love greatens and glorifies In what was mere earth before. 3. Yes, earth-yes, mere ignoble earth! Now do I mis-state, mistake? Do I wrong your weakness and call it worth? Expect all harvest, dread no dearth, Seal my sense up for your sake? |