TO A. C. L.

THROUGH suffering and sorrow thou

hast passed To show us what a woman true may be : They have not taken sympathy from

thee, Nor made thee any other than thou

wast, Save as some tree, which, in a sudden

blast, Sheddeth those blossoms, that are

weakly grown, Upon the air, but keepeth every one Whose strength gives warrant of good

fruit at last : So thou hast shed some blooms of

gayety, But never one of steadfast cheerful

pess; Nor hath thy knowledge of adversity Robbed thee of any faith in happiness, But rather cleared thine inner eyes to

see How many simple ways there are to

bless. 1840.

What were I, Love, if I were stripped

of thee, If thine eyes shut me out whereby I

live, Thou, who unto my calmer soul dost

give Knowledge, and Truth, and holy Mys

tery, Wherein Truth mainly lies for those

who see Beyond the earthly and the fugitive, Who in the grandeur of the soul be

lieve, And only in the Infinite are free? Without thee I were naked, bleak, and

bare As yon dead cedar on the sea-cliff's

brow; And Nature's teachings, which come

to me now, Common and beautiful as light and

air, Would be as fruitless as a stream which

still Slips through the wheel of some old

ruined mill. 1841.

TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATS.

ours

ers

I would not have this perfect love of
Grow from a single root, a single stem,
Bearing no goodly fruit, but only flow-
That idly hide life's iron diadem :
It should grow alway like that eastern

tree Whose limbs take root and spread forth

constantly; That love for one, from which there

doth not spring Widelove for all, is buta worthless thing. Not in another world, as poets prate, Dwell we apart above the tide of things, High floating o'er earth's clouds on

faery wings; But our pure love doth ever elevate Into a holy bond of brotherhood All earthly things, making them pure

and good. 1840.

GREAT soul, thou sittest with me in iny

room, Uplifting me with thy vast, quiet eyes, On whose full orbs, with kindly lustre,

lies The twilight warmth of ruddy ember

gloom : Thy clear, strong tones will oft bring

sudden bloom Of hope secure, to him who lonely cries, Wrestling with the young poet's agonies, Neglect and scorn, which seem a cer

tain doom : Yes! the few words which, like great

thunder-drops, Thy large heart down to earth shook

doubtfully, Thrilled by the inward lightning of its

might, Serene and pure, like gushing joy of

light, Shall track the eternal chords of Des

tiny, After the moon-led pulse of ocean stops.

1841.

IV.

VI.

“For this true nobleness I seek in vain,
In woman and in man I find it not ;
I almost weary of my earthly lot,
My life-springs are dried up with burn-

ing pain." Thou find'st it not? I pray thee look

again, Look inward through the depths of

thine own soul. How is it with thee? Art thou sound

and whole? Doth narrow search show thee no earth

ly stain ? BE NOBLE! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never

dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine

own : Then wilt thou see it gleam in many

eyes, Then will pure light around thy path be

shed, And thou wilt nevermore be sad and

lone 1840

GREAT Truths are portions of the soul

of man ; Great souls are portions of Eternity; Each drop of blood that e'er through

true heart ran With lofty message, ran for thee and

me; For God's law, since the starry song

began, Hath been, and still forevermore must

be, That every deed which shall outlast

Time's span Must goad the soul to be erect and free; Slave is no word of deathless lineage

sprung, Too many noble souls have thought and

died, Too many mighty poets lived and sung, And our good Saxon, from lips purified

Tossing huge continentsin scornfulplay, And crushing them, with din of grind.

ing thunder, That makes old emptinesses stare in

wonder; The memory of a glory passed away Lingers in every heart, as, in the shell, Resounds the bygone freedom of the sea, And, every hour new signs of promise

tell That the great soul shall once again be

free, For high, and yet more high, the mur

murs swell Of inward strife for truth and liberty.

1841.

XI.

XIII.

THERE never yet was flower fair in vain, Let classic poets rhyme it as they will ; The seasons toil that it may blow again, And summer's heart doth feel its every

ill; Nor is a true soul ever born for naught; Wherever any such hath lived and died, There hath been something for true

freedom wrought, Some bulwark levelled on the evil side: Toil on, then, Greatness ! thou art in

the right, However narrow souls may call thee

wrong; Be as thou wouldst be in thine own

clear sight, And so thou wilt in all the world's ere

long : For worldlings cannot, struggle as they

may, From man's great soul onegreat thought

hide away

1841.

XII.

SUB PONDERE CRESCIT.

XIV.

ON READING WORDSWORTH'S SON. NETS IN DEFENCE OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

The hope of Truth grows stronger, day

by day; I hear the soul of Man around me wak

ing, Like a great sea, its frozen fetters

breaking, And flinging up to heaven its sunlit

As the broad ocean endlessly upheaveth, With the majestic beating of his heart, The mighty tides, whereof its rightful Woe,

Each sea-wide bay and little weed re

ceiveth, So, through his soul who earnestly be

lieveth, Life from the universal Heart doth flow, Whereby some conquest of the eternal By instinct of God's nature, he achiev

eth: A fuller pulse ofthis all-powerful beauty Into the poet's gulf-like heart doth tide, And he more keenly feels the glorious

duty Of serving Truth, despised and cruci

fied, Happy, unknowing sect or creed, to rest And feel God flow forever through his

breast. 1842.

And over it with fuller glory flows
The sky-like spirit of God; a hope begun
In doubt and darkness 'neath a fairer

sun Cometh to fruitage, if it be of Truth: And to the law of meekness, faith, and

ruth, By inward sympathy, shall all be won : This thou shouldst know, who, from

the painted feature Of shifting Fashion, couldst thy breth

ren turn Unto the love of ever-youthful Nature, And of a beauty fadeless and eterne ; And always 't is the saddest sight to see An old man faithless in Humanity.

XVII.

THE SAME CONTINUED.

XV.

THE SAME CONTINUED.

must be

ONCE hardly in a cycle blossometh
A flower-like soul ripe with the seeds of

song,
A spirit foreordained

to cope with wrong, Whose divine thoughts are natural as

breath, Who the old Darkness thicklyscattereth With starry words, that shoot prevail

ing light Into the deeps, and wither, with the

blight Of serene Truth, the coward heart of

Death: Woe, if such spirit thwartits errand high, And mock with lies the longing soul of

man! Yet one age longer must true Culturelie, Soothing her bitter fetters as she can, Until new messages of love outstart At the next beating of the infinite Heart.

A POET cannot strive for despotism ; His harp falls shattered; for it still The instinct of great spirits to be free, And the sworn foes of cunning barba

rism : He, who has deepest searched the wide

abysm Of that life-giving Soul which men call

fate, Knows that to put more faith in lies

and hate Than truth and love is the true atheism : Upward the soul forever turns her eyes ; The next hour always shames the hour

before ; One beauty, at its highest, prophesies That by whose side it shall seem mean No Godlike thing knows aught of less

and less, But wideus to the boundless Perfectness.

and poor

XVIII.

XVI.

THE SAME CONTINUED.

The love of all things springs from

love of one ; Wider the soul's horizon hourly grows,

THE SAME CONTINUED. Therefore think not the Past is wise

alone, For Yesterday knows nothing of the

Best,