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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
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.
I would not have this perfect love of
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.
“For this true nobleness I seek in vain,
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
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
With martyr-fire, throughout the world Through life's most darksome passes hath rung
unforlorn; Too long to have God's holy cause de- Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt pied.
Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and 1841.
And in thine every motion musical
As summer air, majestic as the sea,
A mystery to those who creep and crawl I ASK not for those thoughts, that sud- Through Time, and part it from Eterden leap
nity. From being's sea, like the isle-seeming 1841.
Kraken, With whose great rise the ocean all is shaken
IX. And a heart-tremble quivers through the deep ;
My Love, I have no fear that thou Give me that growth which some per
shouldst die ; chance deem sleep,
Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Wherewith the steadfast coral-stems
Whose numbering-clock is still thy uprise,
gentle kiss, Which, by the toil of gathering energies, While Time and Peace with hands enTheir upward way into clear sunshine
lockëd fly, keep,
Yet care I not where in Eternity Until, by Heaven's sweetest influences, We live and love, well knowing that Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of
there is green
No backward step for those who feel the Into a pleasant island in the seas,
bliss Where, 'mid tall palms, the cane-roofed Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings home is seen,
high : And wearied men shall sit at sunset's
Love hath so purified my being's core, hour,
Meseems I scarcely should be startled, Hearing the leaves and loving God's
even, dear power.
To find, some morn, that thou hadst 1841.
gone before ; Since, with thy love, this knowledge
too was given,
Which each calm day doth strengthen VIII.
more and more,
That they who love are but one step TO M. W., ON HER BIRTHDAY,
from Heaven. MAIDEN, when such a soul as thine is 1841.
born, The morning-stars their ancient music make,
X. And, joyful, once again theirsong awake, Long silent now with melancholy scorn ; I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass And thou, not mindless of so blest a
Whose life to mine is an eternal law, By no least deed its harmony shalt | A piece of nature that can have no ļau , break,
A new and certain sunrise every day; But shalt to that high chime thy footsteps take,
But, if thou art to be another
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.
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
SUB PONDERE CRESCIT.
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
And over it with fuller glory flows
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.
THE SAME CONTINUED.
THE SAME CONTINUED.
ONCE hardly in a cycle blossometh
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.
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