And the light whisper as their edges meetStrange that they fill not, with their tranquil tone, The spirit, walking in their midst alone.
There's no contentment in a world like this,
Save in forgetting the immortal dream;
We may not gaze upon the stars of bliss,
That through the cloud-rifts radiantly stream;
Bird-like, the prison'd soul will lift its eye
And pine till it is hooded from the sky.
ON A PICTURE OF A GIRL LEADING HER BLIND MOTHER THROUGH THE WOOD.
THE green leaves as we pass
Lay their light fingers on thee unaware,
And by thy side the hazels cluster fair,
And the low forest-grass
Grows green and silken where the wood-paths windAlas! for thee, sweet mother! thou art blind!
And nature is all bright;
And the faint gray and crimson of the dawn,
Like folded curtains from the day are drawn ;
And evening's purple light
Quivers in tremulous softness on the sky-
Alas! sweet mother! for thy clouded eye!
The moon's new silver shell
Trembles above thee, and the stars float up,
In the blue air, and the rich tulip's cup
Is pencill'd passing well,
And the swift birds on glorious pinions flee-
Alas! sweet mother! that thou canst not see!
And the kind looks of friends
Peruse the sad expression in thy face,
And the child stops amid his bounding race,
And the tall stripling bends
Low to thine ear with duty unforgot
Alas! sweet mother! that thou seest them not !
But thou canst hear! and love
May richly on a human tone be pour'd,
And the least cadence of a whisper'd word
A daughter's love may prove―
And while I speak thou knowest if I smile,
Albeit thou canst not see my face the while!
Yes, thou canst hear! and He
Who on thy sightless eye its darkness hung,
To the attentive ear, like harps, hath strung
Heaven and earth and sea!
And 'tis a lesson in our hearts to know—
With but one sense the soul may overflow.
[4 passage of scenery in Connecticut.]
It was a mountain stream that with the leap
Of its impatient waters had worn out
A channel in the rock, and wash'd away
The earth that had upheld the tall old trees,
Till it was darken'd with the shadowy arch
Of the o'er-leaning branches. Here and there
It loiter'd in a broad and limpid pool
That circled round demurely, and anon
Sprung violently over where the rock
Fell suddenly, and bore its bubbles on,
Till they were broken by the hanging moss,
As anger with a gentle word grows calm.
In spring-time, when the snows were coming down,
And in the flooding of the autumn rains,
No foot might enter there-but in the hot
And thirsty summer, when the fountains slept,
You could go up its channel in the shade,
To the far sources, with a brow as cool
As in the grotto of the anchorite.
Here when an idle student have I come,
And in a hollow of the rock lain down
And mused until the eventide, or read
Some fine old poet till my nook became
A haunt of faery, or the busy flow
Of water to my spell-bewilder'd ear
Seem'd like the din of some gay tournament.
Pleasant have been such hours, and though the wise
Have said that I was indolent, and they
Who taught me have reproved me that I play'd
The truant in the leafy month of June,
I deem it true philosophy in him
Whose path is in the rude and busy world,
To loiter with these wayside comforters.
For avoiding, after long separation, a woman once loved.
SEE me no more on earth, I pray ;
Thy picture, in my memory now,
Is fair as morn, and fresh as May!
Few were as beautiful as thou!
And still I see that willowy form-
And still that cheek like roses dyed-
And still that dark eye, deep and warm-
Thy look of love-thy step of pride !—
Thy memory is a star to me,
More bright as day-beams fade and flee.
But thou, indeed!-Ah! years have fled,
And thou, like others, changed the while-
For joy upon the lip lies dead
If pain but cloud the sunny smile!
And care will make the roses pale,
And tears will soil the lily's whiteness,
And ere life's lamp begins to fail
The eye forgets its trick of brightness !
Look for the rose of dawn at noon,
And weep for beauty lost as soon!
Cold words that hide the envious thought!
I could not bear thy face to see-
But oh, 'tis not that time has wrought
A change in features dear to me!
No! had it been my lot to share
The fragrance of the flower decay'd-
If I had borne but half the care
That on thy brow its burden laid-
If in my love thou'dst burn'd away,
The ashes still had warm'd the heart so cold to-day!
NAY, lady, one frown is enough
In a life as soon over as this-
And though minutes seem long in a huff,
They're minutes 'tis pity to miss!
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