What though my harp and viol be
Both hung upon the willow tree?
What though my bed be now my grave,
And for my house I darkness have?
What though my healthful days are fled,
And I lie number'd with the dead?
Yet I have hope, by Thy great power,
To spring; though now a wither'd flower.

Anniversary Of The Berkshire Agricultural Society, October 4, 1849

Clear the brown path, to meet his coulter's gleam!
Lo! on he comes, behind his smoking team,
With toil's bright dew-drops on his sunburnt brow,
The lord of earth, the hero of the plough!

First in the field before the reddening sun,
Last in the shadows when the day is done,
Line after line, along the bursting sod,
Marks the broad acres where his feet have trod;
Still, where he treads, the stubborn clods divide,
The smooth, fresh furrow opens deep and wide;
Matted and dense the tangled turf upheaves,
Mellow and dark the ridgy cornfield cleaves;
Up the steep hillside, where the laboring train
Slants the long track that scores the level plain;
Through the moist valley, clogged with oozing cl...

What shall I render to Thy name
Or how Thy praises speak?
My thanks how shall I testify?
O Lord, Thou know'st I'm weak.

I owe so much, so little can
Return unto Thy name,
Confusion seizes on my soul,
And I am filled with shame.

O Thou that hearest prayers, Lord,
To Thee shall come all flesh
Thou hast me heard and answered,
My plaints have had access.

What did I ask for but Thou gav'st?
What could I more desire?
But thankfulness even all my days
I humbly this require.

Thy mercies, Lord, have been so great
In number numberless,
Impossible for to recount
Or any way express.

O help Thy saints that sought Thy face
T' return unto Thee praise
And walk before Thee as they ought,
In strict and upright way...

I.

"Whom God hath joined" - ah, this sententious phrase
A meaning deeper than the sea conveys,
And of a sweet and solemn service tells
With the rich resonance of wedding-bells;
It speaks of vows and obligations given
As if amid the harmony of heaven,
While seraph lips approving seem to say,
"Love, honor, and obey."


II.

Is Hymen then ambassador divine,
His mission, matrimonial and benign,
The heart to counsel, ardor to incite,
Convert the nun, rebuke the eremite?
As if were this his mandate from the throne:
"It is not good for them to be alone;
Behold the land! its fruitage and its flowers,
Not mine and thine, but ours."


III.

Did not great Paul aver, in lucid spell,
That they of conjugal intent "do w...

Too much my heart of Beauty's power hath known,
Too long to Love hath reason left her throne;
Too long my genius mourn'd his myrtle chain,
And three rich years of youth consum'd in vain.
My wishes, lull'd with soft inglorious dreams,
Forgot the patriot's and the sage's themes:
Through each Elysian vale and fairy grove,
Through all the enchanted paradise of love,
Misled by sickly hope's deceitful flame,
Averse to action, and renouncing fame.

At last the visionary scenes decay,
My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day,
Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road
In which my heedless feet securely trod,
And strip the phantoms of their lying charms
That lur'd my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms.

For silver streams and banks bespread with flowers,

The doors were wide, the story saith,
Out of the night came the patient wraith.
He might not speak, and he could not stir
A hair of the Baron’s minniver.
Speechless and strengthless, a shadow thin,
He roved the castle to find his kin.
And oh! ’twas a piteous sight to see
The dumb ghost follow his enemy!
The Return of Imray.



Before my Spring I garnered Autumn's gain,
Out of her time my field was white with grain,
The year gave up her secrets, to my woe.
Forced and deflowered each sick season lay
In mystery of increase and decay;
I saw the sunset ere men see the day,
Who am too wise in all I should not know.
Without Benefit of Clergy.



There’s a convict more in the Central Jail,
Behind the old mud wall;
There’s a...

The sea goes up; the sky comes down.
Oh, can you spy the ancient town, -
The granite hills so green and gray,
That rib the land behind the bay?
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Fair winds, boys: send her home!
                O ye ho!

Three years? Is it so long that we
Have lived upon the lonely sea?
Oh, often I thought we'd see the town,
When the sea went up, and the sky came down.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

Even the winter winds would rouse
A memory of my father's house;
For round his windows and his door
They made the same deep, mouthless roar.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!

And when the summer's breezes beat,
Methought I saw the sunny street
Where stood my Kate. Beneath her hand
She gazed far out, far out from ...

Arcturus is his other name, --
I'd rather call him star!
It's so unkind of science
To go and interfere!

I pull a flower from the woods, --
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath,
And has her in a class.

Whereas I took the butterfly
Aforetime in my hat,
He sits erect in cabinets,
The clover-bells forgot.

What once was heaven, is zenith now.
Where I proposed to go
When time's brief masquerade was done,
Is mapped, and charted too!

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I 'm ready for the worst,
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed!
I hope the children there
Won't be new-fashioned when I come,
And laugh at me, and stare!

I hate this City, seated on the Plain,
    The clang and clamour of the hot Bazar,
Knowing, amid the pauses of my pain,
    This month the Almonds bloom in Kandahar.

The Almond-trees, that sheltered my Delight,
    Screening my happiness as evening fell.
It was well worth - that most Enchanted Night -
    This life in torment, and the next in Hell!

People are kind to me; one More than Kind,
    Her lashes lie like fans upon her cheek,
But kindness is a burden on my mind,
    And it is weariness to hear her speak.

For though that Kaffir's bullet holds me here,
    My thoughts are ever free, and wander far,
To where the Lilac Hills rise, soft and clear,
    Beyond the Almond Groves of Kandahar.

He followed me to Sibi, to the Fair,
  ...

    Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave.
    Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight.
    All that was best in us gladly we gave,
    Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height.
    Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers:
    Harden our hearts to him - on let us press!
    Oh, what a triumph and pride shall be ours!
    See where it beacons, the star of success!

    Cares seem to crowd on us - so much to do;
    New fields to conquer, and time's on the wing.
    Grey hairs are showing, a wrinkle or two;
    Somehow our footstep is losing its spring.
    Pleasure's forsaken us, Love ceased to smile;
    Youth has been funeralled; Age travels fast.
    Sometimes we wonder: is it worth while?
    There! we have gained to the summit at ...

Ah whither dost thou float, sweet silent star,
In yonder floods of evening's dying light?
Before the fanning wings of rising night,
Methinks thy silvery bark is driven far
To some lone isle or calmly havened shore,
Where the lorn eye of man can follow thee no more.

How many a one hath watched thee even as I,
And unto thee and thy receding ray
Poured forth his thoughts with many a treasured sigh
Too sweet and strange for the remorseless day;
But thou hast gone and left unto their sight
Too great a host of stars, and yet too black a night.

E'en as I gaze upon thee, thy bright form
Doth sail away among the cloudy isles
Around whose shores the sea of sunlight smiles.
On thee may break no black and boisterous storm
To turn the tenour of thy calm career....

Fortunatus, a fisherman Dane,
Set out on a sudden for Spain,
Because, runs the story,
He'd met with a hoary
Mysterious sorcerer chap,
Who, trouble to save him,
Most thoughtfully gave him
A magical traveling cap.
I barely believe that the story is true,
But here's what that cap was reported to do.

Suppose you were sitting at home,
And you wished to see Paris or Rome,
You'd pick up that bonnet,
You'd carefully don it,
The name of the city you'd call,
And the very next minute
By Jove, you were in it,
Without having started at all!
One moment you sauntered on upper Broadway,
And the next on the Corso or rue de la Paix!

Why, it beat every journey of Cook's,
Knocked spots out of Baedeker's books!
He stepped from his doorway<...

A vision beauteous as the morn,
    With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming,
Slow glided o'er a field late shorn
    Where walked a poet idly dreaming.
He saw her, and joy lit his face,
    "Oh, vanish not at human speaking,"
He cried, "thou form of magic grace,
    Thou art the poem I am seeking.

"I've sought thee long! I claim thee now -
    My thought embodied, living, real."
She shook the tresses from her brow.
    "Nay, nay!" she said, "I am ideal.
I am the phantom of desire -
    The spirit of all great endeavor,
I am the voice that says, 'Come higher,'
    That calls men up and up forever.

"'Tis not alone thy thought supreme
    That here upon thy path has risen;
I am the artist's highest dream,
    The ray of light he cannot...

My feet are wearied, and my hands are tired,
    My soul oppressed --
And I desire, what I have long desired --
    Rest -- only rest.

'Tis hard to toil -- when toil is almost vain,
    In barren ways;
'Tis hard to sow -- and never garner grain,
    In harvest days.

The burden of my days is hard to bear,
    But God knows best;
And I have prayed -- but vain has been my prayer
    For rest -- sweet rest.

'Tis hard to plant in Spring and never reap
    The Autumn yield;
'Tis hard to till, and 'tis tilled to weep
    O'er fruitless field.

And so I cry a weak and human cry,
    So heart oppressed;
And so I sigh a weak and human sigh,
    For rest -- for rest.

My way has wound across the desert years,
    And c...

Give us this day our daily bread;
    Oh! children, when you pray,
And morn and night repeat these words,
    Think what it is you say.

You never asked a piece of bread,
    And had that wish denied;
For food to eat, and some to spare,
    Has always been supplied.

But o'er the ocean, many a cheek
    With want grows thin and pale;
And many suffer like the boy
    Of whom I tell this tale.

He lay upon some scattered straw,--
    His strength was almost gone,--
And, in a feeble voice, he cried,
    "Give me three grains of corn!"

Three grains from out his jacket torn,
    His trembling mother drew,
'Twas all she had--she gave them him,
    Though she was starving too!

Be very grateful, children, then,
    F...

If all transgressions here should have their pay,
What need there then be of a reckoning day?
If God should punish no sin here of men,
His providence who would not question then?

& R Fenton Gower

The merchant Abu Khan shunned the customs of his race,
And sought the cultured wisdom of the West.
His daughter fair Leola had the desert’s supple grace,
With an English education of the best.

The suitors for her hand were as grains of desert sand
But the merchant bade the Arab swarm begone:
And he swore a mighty oath, she should only make troth
With an Englishman an Englishman or none!

The chieftain Ben Kamir, tho’ rejected, stayed to plead,
But Abu Khan replied, ‘Thy suit is vain.
I cast aside my kinsmen and I scorn the prophet’s creed;
So get thee to thy tents, across the plain.’

‘Enough,’ the Chief replied, ‘Thine eyes are blind with pride,
But Allah hears my prayers and guides my star,
With patience I shall w...

A Song.


        Happy and free, securely blest,
        No beauty could disturb my rest;
        My amorous heart was in despair,
        To find a new victorious fair.

        Till you descending on our plains,
        With foreign force renew my chains:
        Where now you rule without control
        The mighty sovereign of my soul.

        Your smiles have more of conquering charms,
        Than all your native country arms;
        Their troops we can expel with ease,
        Who vanquish only when we please.

        But in your eyes, oh! there's the spell,
        Who can see them, and not rebel?
        You make us captives by your stay,
        Yet kill us if you go away.