Part 15 (1/2)

In his best utterances there are both sincerity and beauty.

Who could deny the t.i.tle of artist to the man who wrote those n.o.ble verses, ”On the Beach at Night”?-

”On the beach at night, Stands a child with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky.

”Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black ma.s.ses spreading, Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky, Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east, Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter, And nigh at hand, only a very little above, Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades.

”From the beach the child holding the hand of her father, Those burial clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all Watching, silently weeps.

”Weep not, child, Weep not, my darling, With these kisses let me remove your tears, The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious, They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition, Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge, They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall s.h.i.+ne out again, The great stars and the little ones shall s.h.i.+ne out again, they endure, The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again s.h.i.+ne.

”Then, dearest child, mournest thou only for Jupiter?

Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

”Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper, I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection) Something there is more immortal even than the stars, (Many the burials, many the days and nights, pa.s.sing away) Something that shall endure longer even than l.u.s.trous Jupiter, Longer than sun or any revolving satellite, Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.”

or those touching lines, ”Reconciliation”?-

”Word over all beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost, That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly Wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin- I draw near- Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.”

Again, take that splendid dirge in memory of President Lincoln, majestic in its music, s.p.a.cious and grand in its treatment. It is too long for quotation, but the opening lines, with their suggestive beauty, and the Song to Death, may be instanced.

”When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed, And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourned, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, And thought of him I love.

”O powerful western fallen star!

O shades of night-O moody, tearful night!

O great star disappear'd-O the black murk that hides the star!

O cruel hands that hold me powerless-O helpless soul of me!

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!

”In the dooryard fronting an old farmhouse near the whitewash'd palings, Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green, With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love.

With every leaf a miracle-and from this bush in the dooryard, With delicate coloured blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green, A sprig with its flower I break.

”Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death.

”Prais'd be the fathomless universe, For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love-but praise! praise! praise!

For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.

”Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?

Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.

”The night in silence under many a star, The ocean sh.o.r.e and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know, And the soul-turning to thee, O vast and well-veil'd death, And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.

”Over the tree-tops I float thee a song, Over the rising and sinking waves, over the myriad fields and the prairies wide, Over the dense-pack'd cities all and the teeming wharves and ways, I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O death.”