Part 46 (1/2)
Ah, that our natural wants and best affections Should thus in fierce, unnatural conflict struggle!
Ah, that the spirit and its dear connections, Whose derelictions merit such corrections, Must bear the illicit smuggle!
We would it were not so. This compromising, Which cold, severe necessity hath bidden, Of higher natures, with the wants arising From poor humanity--'tis a sympathizing That may not all be hidden.
We both have learned there is a high soul feeling, That lifts the heart towards the stars and Heaven; And one of us, there is a sad congealing Of sweet affection!--a veil the rock concealing, Where hearts are rent and riven.
Ah, sorrow, change and death hold sad dominion; And arbitrary fate is earth's arbiter; The adverse elements of a marvelous union, With counter-currents vex the spirit's pinion, When high intents invite her.
It is a truth, the sad, unwelcome hearing May wring the spirit with a quivering pain; Our hearts are half of earth, and the careering Of highest thoughts in its divinest daring, Is but a momentary, blissful sharing, That flutters back again.
It may be ours to tread the vale of sorrow, Or wander withering in the maze of doubt, Antic.i.p.ating scarce a joy to-morrow, Save what from the pale lamp of Song we borrow-- That will not all go out.
Yes! there are bosom-chords--thanks to the Giver!
The sad, low whisperings of which can never Be all subdued, though they may shake and s.h.i.+ver With death and coldness, if we brave the river With wise and strong endeavor.
O Song! O fount of sweetest nectar welling!
Of thy refres.h.i.+ngs let my sad heart drink; 'Tis past!--too late--too late, vain trump, your swelling; My spirit ear hath heard a surer knelling-- 'Tis pa.s.sing sweet, what these mule wires are telling-- O what a joy to think!
MY COTTAGE HOME.
A VESPER HYMN.
Awake, my harp! a song for thee, While the mellow tinge of sunset lingers; 'Tis an eve of June! and the sweets are free-- Wilt thou trill to the touch of outwearied fingers?
For the day's well spent, And I'm content, Tho' weary and worn, and worn and weary; 'Tis a heaven below, The joys to know-- The joys of a Cottage Home so cheery.
The world's all beauteous now and bright, And calm as a cradled infant sleeping, And the chords of love are attuned aright, Far joyous thoughts in the heart are leaping As free and sweet As a brother's greet In a foreign land all strange and dreary; And halls more bright Have less delight, I ween, than my Cottage Home so cheery.
My Cottage Home! My Cottage Home!
With its trellised vines around the cas.e.m.e.nt clinging, And the happy strain of that sweet refrain, The gentle tones of loved ones ringing, When the day's well spent, And all content.
What though the o'er-labored limbs are weary?
Our hearts are free And merry, and we Rejoice in a Cottage Home so cheery.
With wants so few, while hearts so true, With a fond concern, are beating near us; We'll cheerfully toil while we meet the smile.
The approving smile of Him to cheer us, Who makes us to know The poor and the low.
Tho' weary and worn, and worn and weary, At last will rest With the truly blest-- O! this makes a Cottage Home so cheery.
THE MIGHTY ONE.
You have felt his power--you have felt his power-- For a mighty one is he: He is found in the field and is known in the bower And hid in the cup of the tenderest flower, He lurks where you may not see.
He's a sleepless sprite, and at dead of night He'll come with his feathery tread, And dally with fancy, and play with your dreams, And light up your vision with silver beams, Though he leaves you an aching head.
Away, and away, like a thought, he flies, His home in the air and sea; Of all that is earth he claims a birth, And he speaks in the wind, and his voice goes forth On the breeze's back, unceasingly.
In the sea's great deeps, where the mermaid sleeps, In chambers of coral and gold-- Where the Sirocco sweeps and Loneliness weeps O'er temples all silent, where dark ivy creeps, And places that never were told--