Death

O thou most holy Friendship! wheresoe’er
Thy dwelling be–for in the courts of man
But seldom thine all-heavenly voice we hear,
Sweet’ning the moments of our narrow span;
And seldom thy bright foot-steps do we scan
Along the weary waste of life unblest,
For faithless is its frail and wayward plan,
And perfidy is man’s eternal guest,
With dark suspicion link’d and shameless interest!–


’Tis thine, when life has reach’d its final goal,
Ere the last sigh that frees the mind be giv’n,
To speak sweet solace to the parting soul,
And pave the bitter path that leads to heav’n:
’Tis thine, whene’er the heart is rack’d and riv’n
By the hot shafts of baleful calumny,
When the dark spirit to despair is driv’n,
To teach its lonely grief to lean on thee,
And ...

O thou wild rantin' wicked wit;
Are thy works, thy fame livin' yet?
Will thae daft people never quit
        An ne'er ha'e done
Disturbin' me in my black pit
        Wi' Burn's fun.

Though mony years ha'e fled away
Sin' thou wert buried in the clay,
Thy rhymes, unto this vera day,
        Are mair than laws;
Thy name's set up on ilka bra'
        Wi' great applause.

And yet, thou wonder-workin' chiel,
I'd let ye' charm Scotch bodies weel,
But that "Address unto the De'il"
        Made i' your sport,
Has raised a maist revengefu' squeel
        In my black court.

Still by the names you gi'e I'm greeted,
By every Lallan tongue repeated,
I canna turn but what I meet it,
        In toun or village;
My bluid, though h...

[The fact which suggested this poem is related by Clarke in his Travels.]

I.

Blue sky above, blue sea below,
    Far off, the old Nile's mouth,
'Twas a blue world, wherein did blow
    A soft wind from the south.

In great and solemn heaves the mass
    Of pulsing ocean beat,
Unwrinkled as the sea of glass
    Beneath the holy feet.

With forward leaning of desire
    The ship sped calmly on,
A pilgrim strong that would not tire
    Or hasten to be gone.

II.

List!--on the wave!--what can they be,
    Those sounds that hither glide?
No lovers whisper tremulously
    Under the ship's round side!

No sail across the dark blue sphere
    Holds white obedient way;
No far-fled, sharp-winged boat is near...

Laugh your best, O blazoned forests,
Me ye shall not shift or shame
With your beauty: here among you
Man hath set his spear of flame.

Lamp to lamp we send the signal,
For our lord goes forth to war;
Since a voice, ere stars were builded,
Bade him colonise a star.

Laugh ye, cruel as the morning,
Deck your heads with fruit and flower,
Though our souls be sick with pity,
Yet our hands are hard with power.

We have read your evil stories,
We have heard the tiny yell
Through the voiceless conflagration
Of your green and shining hell.

And when men, with fires and shouting,
Break your old tyrannic pales;
And where ruled a single spider
Laugh and weep a million tales.

This shall be your best of boasting:
That some ...

So, friend, your shop was all your house!
Its front, astonishing the street,
Invited view from man and mouse
To what diversity of treat
Behind its glass, the single sheet!

What gimcracks, genuine Japanese:
Gape-jaw and goggle-eye, the frog;
Dragons, owls, monkeys, beetles, geese;
Some crush-nosed human-hearted dog:
Queer names, too, such a catalogue!

I thought “And he who owns the wealth
Which blocks the window’s vastitude,
Ah, could I peep at him by stealth
Behind his ware, pass shop, intrude
On house itself, what scenes were viewed!

“If wide and showy thus the shop,
What must the habitation prove?
The true house with no name a-top,
The mansion, distant one remove,
Once get him off his traffic-groove!

“Pictures he l...

He who a tender long-lov'd Wife survives,
    Sees himself sunder'd from the only mind
    Whose hopes, and fears, and interests, were combin'd,
    And blended with his own. - No more she lives!
No more, alas! her death-numb'd ear receives
    His thoughts, that trace the Past, or anxious wind
    The Future's darkling maze! - His wish refin'd,
    The wish to please, exists no more, that gives
The will its energy, the nerves their tone! -
    He feels the texture of his quiet torn,
    And stopt the settled course that Action drew;
Life stands suspended - motionless - till thrown
    By outward causes, into channels new; -
    But, in the dread suspense, how sinks the Soul forlorn!

There is a gladness over all the earth,
For summer is abroad in breezy mirth,
Nature rejoices and the heavens are glad,
And I alone am desolate and sad,
For I sit mourning by an empty cot,
Refusing comfort because one is not.

And I will mourn because I am bereaved,
Others have suffered others too have grieved
Over hopes broken even as mine are broke,
By a swift unexpected bitter stroke,
And I must weep as weeping Jacob prest,
To grieving lips his last ones princely vest

You tell me cease weeping, to resign
Unto the Father's a will this will of mine,
You say my lamb is on the Shepherd s breast,
My flower blooms in gardens of the blest,
I know it all I say, Thy will be done
Yet I must mourn for him--my son! my son!

My friend should meet me somewhere hereabout
To take me to that hiding in the hills.

I have broke their cage, no gilded one, I trow—
I read no more the prisoner’s mute wail
Scribbled or carved upon the pitiless stone;
I find hard rocks, hard life, hard cheer, or none,
For I am emptier than a friar’s brains;
But God is with me in this wilderness,
These wet black passes and foam-churning chasms—
And God’s free air, and hope of better things.

I would I knew their speech; not now to glean,
Not now—I hope to do it—some scatter’d ears,
Some ears for Christ in this wild field of Wales—
But, bread, merely for bread. This tongue that wagg’d
They said with such heretical arrogance
Against the proud archbishop Arundel—
So much God’s cause was fluent in it—is ...

My old Welsh neighbor over the way
Crept slowly out in the sun of spring,
Pushed from her ears the locks of gray,
And listened to hear the robin sing.

Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped,
And, cruel in sport as boys will be,
Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped
From bough to bough in the apple-tree.

"Nay!" said the grandmother; "have you not heard,
My poor, bad boy! of the fiery pit,
And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird
Carries the water that quenches it?

"He brings cool dew in his little bill,
And lets it fall on the souls of sin
You can see the mark on his red breast still
Of fires that scorch as he drops it in.

"My poor Bron rhuddyn! my breast-burned bird,
Singing so sweetly from limb to limb,
Very dear to the ...

Lonely her fate was,
Environed from sight
In the house where the gate was
Past finding at night.
None there to share it,
No one to tell:
Long she'd to bear it,
And bore it well.

Elsewhere just so she
Spent many a day;
Wishing to go she
Continued to stay.
And people without
Basked warm in the air,
But none sought her out,
Or knew she was there.
Even birthdays were passed so,
Sunny and shady:
Years did it last so
For this sad lady.
Never declaring it,
No one to tell,
Still she kept bearing it -
Bore it well.

The days grew chillier,
And then she went
To a city, familiar
In years forespent,
When she walked gaily
Far to and fro,
But now, moving frailly,
Could nowhere go.
The...

    Little one, you must not fret
    That I take your clothes away;
    Better sleep you so will get,
    And at morning wake more gay--
        Saith the children's mother.

    You I must unclothe again,
    For you need a better dress;
    Too much worn are body and brain;
    You need everlastingness--
        Saith the heavenly father.

    I went down death's lonely stair;
    Laid my garments in the tomb;
    Dressed again one morning fair;
    Hastened up, and hied me home--
        Saith the elder brother.

    Then I will not be afraid
    Any ill can come to me;
    When 'tis time to go to bed,
    I will rise and go with thee--
        Saith the little brother.

Ah, how the Human Mind wearies herself
With her own wand'rings, and, involved in gloom
Impenetrable, speculates amiss!
Measuring, in her folly, things divine
By human, laws inscrib'd on adamant
By laws of Man's device, and counsels fix'd
For ever, by the hours, that pass, and die.
How? shall the face of Nature then be plow'd
Into deep wrinkles, and shall years at last
On the great Parent fix a sterile curse?
Shall even she confess old age, and halt
And, palsy-smitten, shake her starry brows?
Shall foul Antiquity with rust and drought
And famine vex the radiant worlds above?
Shall Time's unsated maw crave and engulf
The very heav'ns that regulate his flight?
And was the Sire of all able to fence
His works, and to uphold the circling worlds,
But throug...