Death

(See Note 72)

The poet does the prophet's deeds;
In times of need with new life pregnant,
When strife and suffering are regnant,
His faith with light ideal leads.
The past its heroes round him posts,
He rallies now the present's hosts,
        The future opes
        Before his eyes,
        Its pictured hopes
        He prophesies.
    Ever his people's forces vernal
    The poet frees, - by right eternal.

He turns the people's trust to doubt
Of heathendom and Moloch-terror;
'Neath thought of God, cold-gray with error,
He sees grow green each fresh, new sprout.
Set free, these spread abroad, above,
Bear fruit of power and of love
        In each man's soul,
        And make it warm
        And make it whole,
        I...

    The lonely sunsets flare forlorn
    Down valleys dreadly desolate;
    The lordly mountains soar in scorn
    As still as death, as stern as fate.

        The lonely sunsets flame and die;
            The giant valleys gulp the night;
        The monster mountains scrape the sky,
            Where eager stars are diamond-bright.

    So gaunt against the gibbous moon,
    Piercing the silence velvet-piled,
    A lone wolf howls his ancient rune -
    The fell arch-spirit of the Wild.

        O outcast land! O leper land!
            Let the lone wolf-cry all express
        The hate insensate of thy hand,
            Thy heart's abysmal loneliness.

"Write me a rhyme of the present time".
    And the poet took his pen
And wrote such lines as the miser minds
    Hide in the hearts of men.

He grew enthused, as the poets used
    When their fingers kissed the strings
Of some sweet lyre, and caught the fire
    True inspiration brings,

And sang the song of a nation's wrong -
    Of the patriot's galling chain,
And the glad release that the angel, Peace,
    Has given him again.

He sang the lay of religion's sway,
    Where a hundred creeds clasp hands
And shout in glee such a symphony
    That the whole world understands.

He struck the key of monopoly,
    And sang of her swift decay,
And traveled the track of the railway back
    With a blithesome roundelay -

What beast of chase hath broken from the cover?
Stern Gemmi listens to as full a cry,
As multitudinous a harmony
Of sounds as rang the heights of Latmos over,
When, from the soft couch of her sleeping Lover,
Up-starting, Cynthia skimmed the mountain dew
In keen pursuit, and gave, where'er she flew,
Impetuous motion to the Stars above her.
A solitary Wolf-dog, ranging on
Through the bleak concave, wakes this wondrous chime
Of aery voices locked in unison,
Faint, far-off, near, deep, solemn and sublime!
So, from the body of one guilty deed,
A thousand ghostly fears, and haunting thoughts, proceed!

Dear Governor, if my skiff might brave
The winds that lift the ocean wave,
The mountain stream that loops and swerves
Through my broad meadow's channelled curves
Should waft me on from bound to bound
To where the River weds the Sound,
The Sound should give me to the Sea,
That to the Bay, the Bay to thee.

It may not be; too long the track
To follow down or struggle back.
The sun has set on fair Naushon
Long ere my western blaze is gone;
The ocean disk is rolling dark
In shadows round your swinging bark,
While yet the yellow sunset fills
The stream that scarfs my spruce-clad hills;
The day-star wakes your island deer
Long ere my barnyard chanticleer;
Your mists are soaring in the blue
While mine are sparks of glittering dew.

It ma...

        A rake who had, by pleasure stuffing,
        Raked mind and body down to nothing,
        In wretched vacancy reclined,
        Enfeebled both in frame and mind.

        As pain and languor chose to bore him,
        A ghastly phantom rose before him:

        "My name is Care. Nor wealth nor power
        Can give the heart a cheerful hour
        Devoid of health - impressed by care.
        From pleasures fraught with pains, forbear."

        The phantom fled. The rake abstained,
        And part of fleeing health retained.
        Then, to reform, he took a wife,
        Resolved to live a sober life.

        Again the phantom stood before him,
        With jealousies and fears to bore him.
        Her smiles to others he re...

Last night I saw Helena.    She whose praise
    Of late all men have sounded.    She for whom
    Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb
Rather than live without her all his days.

Wise men go mad who look upon her long,
    She is so ripe with dangers.    Yet meanwhile
    I find no fascination in her smile,
Although I make her theme of this poor song.

"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair,
    And yet to me each shining silken tress
    Seems robbed of beauty and all lustreless -
Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair.

(I know a little maiden so demure
    She will not let her one true lover's hands
    In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands
So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.)

"Her great dark eyes that flash like ...

I still walk slowly on the river bank
Where I came singing,
And where I saw your boat pass up beyond the sun
Setting red in the river.
I want Autumn,
I want the leaves to begin falling at once,
So that the cold time may bring us close again
Like K'ien Niü and Chik Nü, the two stars.

Each year when Autumn comes
The crows make a black bridge across the milky sea,
And then these two poor stars
Can run together in gold and be at peace.
Darling, for my sake work hard
And be received with honour at the Examinations.

Since I saw your boat pass up beyond the sun
I have forgotten how to sing
And how to paddle the canoe across the lake.
I know how to sit down and how to be sad,
And I know how to say nothing;
But every other art has slipped awa...

    O BEATA SOLITUDO; O SOLA BEATITUDO.

    (Inscription in the Grounds of Burg Birseck, near Basel.)


    Sweet Solitude where dost thou linger?
        When and where shall I look in thy face?
    Feel the soft magic touch of thy finger,
        The glow of thy silent embrace?
    Stern Civilization has banished
        Thy charms to a region unknown;
    The spell of thy beauty has vanished -
        Sweet Solitude, where hast thou flown?

    I have sought thee on pampas and prairie,
        By blue lake and bluer crevasse,
    On shores that are arid and airy,
        Lone peak, and precipitous pass.
    I have sought thee, sweet Solitude, ever
        Regardless of peril and pain;
    But in spite of my utmost endeavour
...

Márgarét, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Áh! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springs
Shouting to Freedom, "Plant thy banners here!"
To harassed Piety, "Dismiss thy fear,
And in our caverns smooth thy ruffled wings!"
Nor be unthanked their final lingerings
Silent, but not to high-souled Passion's ear
'Mid reedy fens wide-spread and marshes drear,
Their own creation. Such glad welcomings
As Po was heard to give where Venice rose
Hailed from aloft those Heirs of truth divine
Who near his fountains sought obscure repose,
Yet came prepared as glorious lights to shine,
Should that be needed for their sacred Charge;
Blest Prisoners They, whose spirits were at large!

Tha bonny little pooasy! aw'm inclined
To tak thee wi' me:
But yet aw think if tha could spaik thi mind,
Tha'd ne'er forgie me;
For i' mi jacket button-hoil tha'd quickly dee,
An life is short enuff, booath for mi-sen an thee.

Here, if aw leeav thee bi th' rooadside to flourish,
Whear scoors may pass thee;
Some heart 'at has few other joys to cherish
May stop an bless thee:
Then bloom, mi little pooasy! Tha'rt a beauty!
Sent here to bless: Smile on - tha does thi duty.

Aw wodn't rob another of a joy
Sich as tha's gien me;
For aw felt varry sad, mi little doy
Until aw'd seen thee.
An may each passin, careworn, lowly brother,
Feel cheered like me, an leeav thee for another.

1.

Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;
Let us drink! - who would not? - since, through life's varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.


2.

I have tried in its turn all that life can supply;
I have bask'd in the beam of a dark rolling eye;
I have lov'd! - who has not? - but what heart can declare
That Pleasure existed while Passion was there?


3.

In the days of my youth, when the heart's in its spring,
And dreams that Affection can never take wing,
I had friends! - who has not? - but what tongue will avow,
That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful as thou?


4.

The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange,
Friendship shifts w...

How lovely the elder brother's
Life all laced in the other's,
Lóve-laced! what once I well
Witnessed; so fortune fell.
When Shrovetide, two years gone,
Our boys' plays brought on
Part was picked for John,
Young Jóhn: then fear, then joy
Ran revel in the elder boy.
Their night was come now; all
Our company thronged the hall;
Henry, by the wall,
Beckoned me beside him:
I came where called, and eyed him
By meanwhiles; making mý play
Turn most on tender byplay.
For, wrung all on love's rack,
My lad, and lost in Jack,
Smiled, blushed, and bit his lip;
Or drove, with a diver's dip,
Clutched hands down through clasped knees -
Truth's tokens tricks like these,
Old telltales, with what stress
He hung on the imp's success.
Now the...

The pale blue gloom of evening comes
Among the phantom forests and walls
With a mournful and rythmic sound of drums.
My heart is disturbed with a sound of myriad throbbing,
Persuasive and sinister, near and far:
In the blue evening of my heart
I hear the thrum of the evening star.
My work is uncompleted; and yet I hurry,
Hearing the whispered pulsing of those drums,
To enter the luminous walls and woods of night.
It is the eternal mistress of the world
Who shakes these drums for my delight.
Listen! the drums of the leaves, the drums of the dust,
The delicious quivering of this air!
I will leave my work unfinished, and I will go
With ringing and certain step through the laughter of chaos
To the one small room in the void I know.
Yesterday it was there,

Poor Dick nah sleeps quietly, his labor is done,
Deeath shut off his steam tother day;
His engine, long active, has made its last run,
An his boiler nah falls to decay.
Maybe he'd his faults, but he'd vartues as well,
An tho' dearly he loved a gooid spree;
If he did onny harm it wor done to hissel: -
He wor allus a gooid friend to me.

His heart it wor tender, - his purse it wor free,
To a friend or a stranger i' need;
An noa matter ha humble or poor they might be,
At his booard they wor welcome to feed.
Wi' his pipe an his glass bi his foirside he'd sit,
Yet some fowk wi' him couldn't agree,
An tho' monny's the time 'at we've differed a bit,
He wor allus a gooid friend to me.

His word wor his bond, for he hated a lie,
An sickophants doubly des...

My heart has grown rich with the passing of years,
I have less need now than when I was young
To share myself with every comer
Or shape my thoughts into words with my tongue.

It is one to me that they come or go
If I have myself and the drive of my will,
And strength to climb on a summer night
And watch the stars swarm over the hill.

Let them think I love them more than I do,
Let them think I care, though I go alone;
If it lifts their pride, what is it to me
Who am self-complete as a flower or a stone.

    No warrior he, a village lad,
            needing nor words nor other prod
    To point his duty; he was glad
            to tread the path his fathers trod.
    Week days he worked in wood and field;
            with homely joys he decked his life;
    The sword of hate he would not wield,
            nor take a part in cankering strife.
    On Sunday in the little choir
            he sang of Peace and brotherly love,
    And as his thoughts soared higher and higher,
            they reached unmeasured heights above.

    A cry for Freedom rent the Land -
            "Our Country calls, come, come, 'tis War;
    Together let us firmly stand;"
            he answered, though his heart beat sore
    At leaving home, and kin, and one
            i...