Ah, little did I think in time that's past,
By summer burnt, or numb'd by winter's blast,
Delving the ditch a livelihood to earn,
Or lumping corn out in a dusty barn;
With aching bones returning home at night,
And sitting down with weary hand to write;
Ah, little did I think, as then unknown,
Those artless rhymes I even blush'd to own
Would be one day applauded and approv'd,
By learning notic'd, and by genius lov'd.
God knows, my hopes were many, but my pain
Damp'd all the prospect which I hop'd to gain;
I hardly dar'd to hope.--Thou corner-chair,
In which I've oft slung back in deep despair,
Hadst thou expression, thou couldst easy tell
The pains and all that I have known too well:
'Twould be but sorrow's tale, yet still 'twould be
A tale of truth, and p...

The mist is fast clearing.
And radiant is heaven,
Whilst AEolus loosens
Our anguish-fraught bond.
The zephyrs are sighing,
Alert is the sailor.
Quick! nimbly be plying!
The billows are riven,
The distance approaches;
I see land beyond!

    Summer is come again. The sun is bright,
    And the soft wind is breathing. Airy joy
    Is sparkling in thine eyes, and in their light
    My soul is shining. Come; our day's employ
    Shall be to revel in unlikely things,
    In gayest hopes, fondest imaginings,
    And make-believes of bliss. Come, we will talk
    Of waning moons, low winds, and a dim sea;
    Till this fair summer, deepening as we walk,
    Has grown a paradise for you and me.

    But ah, those leaves!--it was not summer's mouth
    Breathed such a gold upon them. And look there--
    That beech how red! See, through its boughs, half-bare,
    How low the sun lies in the mid-day south!--
    The sweetness is but one pined memory flown
    Back from our summer, wandering alone!

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.

There in her place she did rejoice,
Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind,
But fragments of her mighty voice
Came rolling on the wind.

Then stept she down thro' town and field
To mingle with the human race,
And part by part to men reveal'd
The fullness of her face --

Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-alter gazing down,
Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,
And, King-like, wears the crown:

Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears;

That her fair form may stand and shine
Make bright ...

God, what a glory, is this consciousness,
Of life on life, that comes to those who seek!
Nor would I, if I might, to others speak,
The fulness of that knowledge.    It can bless,
Only the eager souls, that willing, press
Along the mountain passes, to the peak.
Not to the dull, the doubting, or the weak,
Will Truth explain, or Mystery confess.

Not to the curious or impatient soul
That in the start, demands the end be shown,
And at each step, stops waiting for a sign;
But to the tireless toiler toward the goal,
Shall the great miracles of God be known
And life revealed, immortal and divine.

The Two Greetings.

I.

Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
Where all that was to be, in all that was,
Whirl’d for a million æons thro’ the vast
Waste dawn of multitudinous-eddying light—
Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
Thro’ all this changing world of changeless law,
And every phase of ever-heightening life,
And nine long months of antenatal gloom,
With this last moon, this crescent—her dark orb
Touch’d with earth’s light—thou comest, darling boy;
Our own; a babe in lineament and limb
Perfect, and prophet of the perfect man;
Whose face and form are hers and mine in one,
Indissolubly married like our love;
Live, and be happy in thyself, and serve
This mortal race thy kin so well, that men
May bless thee as we bless thee,...

For what then was I born? — to fill the circling year with daily toil for daily bread, with sordid pains and pleasures? —
To walk this chequered world, alternate light and darkness,
The day-dreams of deep thought followed by the night dreams of fancy? —
To be one in a full procession? — to dig my kindred clay?—
To decorate the gallery of art? — to clear a few acres of forest?—
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life.
Is then that noble end to feed this mind with knowledge.
To mix for mine own thirst the sparkling wine of wisdom,
To light with many lamps the caverns of my heart,
To reap, in the furrows of my brain, good harvest of right reasons? —
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life.
Is it to grow stronger in self-government, to check the chafing...

(POVERTY, CHASTITY, OBEDIENCE)


Three little leaves like shamrock,
And the trefoil's love-lit eyes,
Whether it takes the sunshine
Or the shadows from the skies.

And richer than rose or lily
Is the flower he wears today,
With triune bloom and fragrance
From earth to heaven alway.

Poverty is the low leaf,
And one is chastely white,
And the red love of obedience
Goes up to God a light.

Grow, good flower, and keep him
Who wears your bloom today,
Shadow and sunshine bless him,
And the trefoil's heavenward way.

(See Note 59)

Oh, when will you stand forth, who with strength can bring aid,
To strike down the injustice and lies
That my house have beset, and with malice blockade
Every pathway I out for my powers have laid,
And would hidden means find
With deceit and with hate
To set watch on my mind
And defile every plate
In my beautiful home where defenseless we wait?

Oh, when will you stand forth? This detraction through years
For my people has made me an oaf,
Hides my poetry's fount in the fog of its fleers,
So it merely a pool of self-worship appears;
Like a clumsy troll I
Am contemned with affront,
Whom all "cultured" folk fly,
Or yet gather to hunt,
That their hunger of hate at a feast they may blunt.

When I publish a book: "It is h...

God knows all things -- but we
In darkness walk our ways;
We wonder what will be,
We ask the nights and days.

Their lips are sealed; at times
The bards, like prophets, see,
And rays rush o'er their rhymes
From suns of "days to be".

They see To-morrow's heart,
They read To-morrow's face,
They grasp -- is it by art --
The far To-morrow's trace?

They see what is unseen,
And hear what is unheard,
And To-morrow's shade or sheen
Rests on the poet's word.

As seers see a star
Beyond the brow of night,
So poets scan the far
Prophetic when they write.

They read a human face,
As readers read their page,
The while their thought will trace
A life from youth to age.

They have a mournful gift,
T...

I

Last night I dreamed this dream: That I was dead;
And as I slept, forgot of man and God,
That other dreamless sleep of rest,
I heard a footstep on the sod,
As of one passing overhead,
And lo, thou, Dear, didst touch me on the breast,
Saying: "What shall I write against thy name
That men should see?"
Then quick the answer came,
"I was beloved of thee."


II

Dear Giver of Thyself when at thy side,
I see the path beyond divide,
Where we must walk alone a little space,
I say: "Now am I strong indeed
To wait with only memory awhile,
Content, until I see thy face, "
Yet turn, as one in sorest need,
To ask once more thy giving grace,
So, at the last
Of all our partings, when the night
Has hidden from my failing si...

Is it not our bounden duty
    Harsh and bitter thoughts to quell,
    Wild, ambitions schemes repel,
And to revel in the beauty
    Of this Indian summer spell,
    Bathing forest, field, and dell
    As with radiance immortelle?

None can paint like nature dying;
    Whose dissolving struggle lent
    Wealth of hues so richly blent
That, through weary years of trying,
    Artist skill pre-eminent
    May not copy or invent
    Such divine embellishment.

Knights of old from castles riding
    Scattered largesse as they went
    Which, like manna heaven-sent,
Cheered the poverty-abiding;
    But, when 'neath "that low green tent"
    Passed the hand benevolent,
    Sad were they and indigent.

Monarchs, too, have thus d...

Love has earth to which she clings
With hills and circling arms about,
Wall within wall to shut fear out.
But Though has need of no such things,
For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings.

On snow and sand and turn, I see
Where Love has left a printed trace
With straining in the world's embrace.
And such is Love and glad to be
But Though has shaken his ankles free.

Though cleaves the interstellar gloom
And sits in Sirius' disc all night,
Till day makes him retrace his flight
With smell of burning on every plume,
Back past the sun to an earthly room.

His gains in heaven are what they are.
Yet some say Love by being thrall
And simply staying possesses all
In several beauty that Thought fares far
To find fused in another star.

Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death
Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face.
Poor human nature for a little space
Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath
Leaves such long silence; but let not thy faith
    Fail for a moment in God's boundless grace.
    But know, oh know, He has prepared a place
Fairer for our dear dead than worlds beneath,
Yet not beneath; for those entrancing spheres
    Surround our earth as seas a barren isle.
Ours is the region of eternal fears;
    Theirs is the region where God's radiant smile
Shines outward from the centre, and gives hope
Even to those who in the shadows grope.
They are not far from us.    At first though long
    And lone may seem the paths that intervene,
    If ever on the staff of prayer we l...

Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us see
        What Destiny
Hath made thee heir to at nativity!

Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,
        Whom some name Right;
And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.

Despair, with Hope's brave form; and Hate, who goes
        In Friendship's clothes;
And Happiness, the mask of many woes.

Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,
        Love bends the knee;
And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.

Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;
        And Cares and Pains,
That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.

Corruption, known as Honesty; and Fame
        That's but a name;
And Innocence, the outward guise of Shame.

And Folly, men ca...

        1.

        WE are a shadow and a shining, we!
        One moment nothing seems but what we see,
        Nor aught to rule but common circumstance--
        Nought is to seek but praise, to shun but chance;
        A moment more, and God is all in all,
        And not a sparrow from its nest can fall
        But from the ground its chirp goes up into his hall.

        2.

        I know at least which is the better mood.
        When on a heap of cares I sit and brood,
        Like Job upon his ashes, sorely vext,
        I feel a lower thing than when I stood
        The world's true heir, fearless as, on its stalk,
        A lily meeting Jesus in his walk:
        I am not all mood--I can judge betwixt.

        3.

   ...

Once agean welcome! oh, what is ther grander,
When years have rolled by sin' yo left an old friend?
An what cheers yor heart, when yo far away wander,
As mich as the thowts ov a welcome at th' end?
Yo may goa an be lucky, an win lots o' riches;
Yo may gain fresh acquaintance as onward yo rooam;
But tho' wealth may be temptin, an honor bewitches,
Yet they're nowt when compared to a welcome back hooam.

Pray, who hasn't felt as they've sat sad an lonely,
They'd give all they possessed for the wings ov a dove,
To fly far away, just to catch a seet only
Ov th' friends o' ther childhood, the friends 'at they love.
Hope may fill the breast when some old spot we're leavin,
Bright prospects may lure us throo th' dear land away,
But it's joy o' returnin at sets one's breast...

October, 1814.

Epistle.

Friend of my vernal and autumnal day,
In life's gay bloom, and in its slow decay:
Sargent! who leav'st thy hermit's studious cell,
To act thy busier part, and act it well,
In courts of rural justice to preside,
In temperate dignity unstain'd with pride.
Oft let us meet, that friendship's honour'd chain,
In its extension may new lustre gain;
So let us, cheer'd by memory's social blaze,
Live o'er again our long-departed days.
I thank kind Heaven, that made the pleasure mine
Beneath my roof to see thy virtues shine;
When Providence thy fondest wishes crown'd,
Casting thy lot on fair, and southern ground:
When the gay songs of Eartham's friendly grove
Proclaim'd the triumph of thy prosperous love--
Tis sweet to plant a...