Extracts from "Stanzas"

For long I thought the dreadful day
Which robbed me of my joy and peace,
Had palsied me with such disease.
As never more could pass away:
But Nature whispered low and sweet:
"Oh heart! struck down with deep despair,
The goal is near, these trials are
But beckoning's to the Saviour's feet."
And then, "Even put your grief in words,
The soul expends itself, as tears
Flow after storms; the hopes of years
Rise stronger than the binding cords.
"Oh Soul! these are the trials meet
To fit thee for the nobler strife
With Evil through the bounds of Life:
Pure steel is from the furnace-heat.
"Shrink not! a nobler self is wrought
From out the shock, more grand and fair:
March on, oh Heart! through toil and care —
The grand result is cheaply bought!"
I hear around me echoing feet —
The din of cities, never still —
The clinking purse we toil to fill —
The quick accost when merchants meet —
The wagons rattling: o'er the way —
The drayman calling to his horse —
The auctioneer, with utterance hoarse
Cry in yon house of dusky gray —
The clash of armed minds, aloof,
Resound through legislative halls —
The indignant echo of the walls —
The nothingness that shakes the roof;
And, near the bustle of the courts
Where law's condottieri wage
The fight, with passion, well-paid rage —
Below, the ships draw toward the ports.
From all I turn with weary heart
To that green mountain land of thine,
Where tranquil suns unclouded shine,
And to the abode where now thou art.
iir.
The deep alarum of the drum
Resounds in yonder busy street,
The horses move on restless feet,
And every urchin cries, "They come!"
With which the trumpet blares aloud
And brazen-throated horns reply:
The incense of the melody
Floats upward like a golden cloud.
And like the boy's my soul is fired,
And half I grasp. the empty air,
With dreams of lists and ladies fair,
As in the days when I aspired.
The trumpet dies, a distant roar,
The drum becomes a murmuring voice —
No more in battle I rejoice,
But fall to dreaming as before —
Of other skies and greener trees,
And mountain peaks of purple gloom —
And of the dim and shadowy tomb,
Where that great spirit rests in peace.
IV.
The sunset died that tender day,
Across the mountains bright and pure,
And bathed with golden waves the shore
Of evening, and the fringed spray,
And stately ships which glided by,
With whitest sails toward the dim
Untravelled seas beyond the rim
Of peaks that melted in the sky.
He sat upon the trellised porch,
And still the conversation ranged
From olden things all gone or changed,
To grand, eternal Truth — a torch
That spread around a steady light,
And mocked the strength of hostile hands,
And pointed man to other lands
Of hope beyond Thought's farthest flight.
That noble forehead, broad and calm,
Was flushed with evening's holy ray,
His eye gave back the light of day —
His words poured out a soothing balm;
His low sweet tones fell on the ear
Like music in the quiet watch
Of midnight, when the spirits catch
At golden memories, ever dear.
And now recalling that dim eve,
And him who spake those noble words,
Though trembling still in all its chords,
My heart is calmed, and I believe.
V.
I thought to pass away from earth
And join thee, with that other heart
Loved even more than thee, a part
Of other worlds, through heavenlier birth —
Of whom I do not speak my thought
So dear she is, because the eye
O'erflows with wo, and with a cry
I tear the symbols I have wrought.
No word shall be of that one grief,
Because it lies too deep for words,
And this sad trifling which affords
. Some respite, could be no relief.
VI.
Come from the fields, thy dwelling place,
Oh spirit of the Past! and steep
My wounded soul in dreamy sleep,
And fit its sandals for the race
Of flashing, hurrying life; and spread
A soft oblivion o'er the ills
With which the fainting bosom fills,
And calm the throbbing heart and head:
So shall I gather strength again
To stem the tide of worldly strife,
To bear the weariness of life,
And feel that all things are not vain.