Part 6 (1/2)
Above the roofs and chimney-tops, And through the slow November rain, A light from some far attic pane, s.h.i.+nes twinkling through the water-drops.
Some lonely watcher waits and weeps, Like me, the step that comes not yet;-- Her watch for weary hours is set, While far below the city sleeps.
The level lamp-rays lay the floors, And bridge the dark that lies below, O'er which my fancies come and go, And peep, and listen at the doors;
And bring me word how sweet and plain, And quaint the lonely attic room, Where she sits singing in the gloom, Words sadder than the autumn rain.
A thousand times by sea and sh.o.r.e, In my wild dreams I see him lie, With face upturned toward the sky, Murdered, and stiffening in his gore;--
Or drowned, and floating with the tide, Within some lonely midnight bay,-- His arms stretched toward me where he lay, And blue eyes staring, fixed and wide.
Oh winds that rove o'er land and sea!
Oh waves that lap the yellow sands!
Oh hide your stealthy, treacherous hands, And call no more his name to me.'--
Thus much I heard,--and unawares, The sense of pity stole away My loneliness and misery,-- When lo, a light step on the stairs!--
Ah joy!--the step that brings my own, Safe from all harms and dangers in;-- My heart lifts up its thankful hymn, And bids' good-night to night and moan.
I sleep,--I rest,--and I forget The bridge-the night-lamp's level beams, Till waiting out of happy dreams, I see her watch-light s.h.i.+ning yet.
G.o.d comfort those that watch in vain,-- I breathe to Him my voiceless prayer; Pity their tears and their despair, And bring the wanderers home again,
NEW YEAR, 1868.
Cradled in ice, and swathed in snows, And s.h.i.+ning like a Christmas rose, Wreathed round with white chrysanthemums; Heaven in his innocent, brave blue eyes, Straight from the primal paradise, Behold the infant New Year comes!
His looks a serious sweetness wear, As if upon that unseen way, Those baby hands that lightly bear Garlands, and festive tokens gay, For but a glance,--a touch sufficed,-- Had met and touched the infant Christ!
And lingering on the wing, had heard, Sweeter than song of any bird, Of cherub or of seraphim, The notes of that divinest hymn,-- Glory to G.o.d in highest strain, And peace on earth, good will to men.
Oh, diamond days, so royally set In winter's stern and rugged breast, Like jewels in an amulet,-- Your light has cheered, and soothed, and blest, The want and toil, the sighs and tears, And sorrows-of a thousand years!
The bells ring in the merry morn, The poor forget their poverty, The saddest face grows bright with glee, And smiles for joy that he is born; The fair round world s.h.i.+nes out with cheer, To welcome in the glad New Year.
Oh ye, whose homes are warm and bright, With plenty smiling at the board, Remember those whose roofs to-night, Nor warmth, nor light, nor food afford, Still make those wants, and woes your care, And let the poor your bounty share.
For yet our hills and lakes along Echoes the herald angels' song,-- Peace and good will!--oh look abroad,-- In every nation, tribe, and clan, Behold the brotherhood of man,-- Behold the Fatherhood of G.o.d!
Peace to our mountains and our hills,-- Peace to our rivers and our rills;-- Our young Dominion takes her place Among the nations west and east,-- G.o.d send her length of happy days, And years of plenty and of peace!
THANKSGIVING.