It was worthless, while so mighty; was too weak, although so strong;
There were courts she could not enter; depths she could not sound; yet
feeling
It was vain to strive or struggle, vainer still to mourn or long.
He would give her words of kindness, he would talk of home, but seeming
With an absent look, forgetting if he held or dropped her hand;
And then turn with eager pleasure to his writing, reading, dreaming,
Or to speak of things with others that she could not understand.
He had paid, and paid most nobly, all he owed; no need of blaming;
It had cost him something, may be, that no future could restore:
In her heart of hearts she knew it; Love and Sorrow, not complaining,
Only suffered all the deeper, only loved him all the more.
Sometimes then a stronger anguish, and more cruel, weighed upon her,
That through all those years of waiting, he had slowly learnt the truth;
He had known himself mistaken, but that, bound to her in honour,
He renounced his life, to pay her for the patience of her youth.
But a star was slowly rising from that mist of grief, and brighter
Grew her eyes, for each slow hour surer comfort seemed to bring;
And she watched with strange sad smiling, how her trembling hands grew slighter,
And how thin her slender finger, and how large her wedding-ring.
And the tears dropped slowly on it, as she kissed that golden token
With a deeper love, it may be, than was in the far-off past;
And remembering Philip's fancy, that so long ago was spoken,
Thought her Ring's bright angel guardian had stayed near her to the last.
Grieving sorely, grieving truly, with a tender care and sorrow,
Philip watched the slow, sure fading of his gentle, patient wife;
Could he guess with what a yearning she was longing for the morrow,
Could he guess the bitter knowledge that had wearied her of life?
Now with violets strewn upon her, Mildred lies in peaceful sleeping;
All unbound her long, bright tresses, and her throbbing heart at rest,
And the cold, blue rays of moonlight, through the open casement creeping,
Show the ring upon her finger, and her hands crossed on her breast.
Peace at last. Of peace eternal is her calm sweet smile a token.
Has some angel lingering near her let a radiant promise fall?
Has he told her Heaven unites again the links that Earth has broken?
For on Earth so much is needed, but in Heaven Love is all!
VERSE: BORROWED THOUGHTS
I. FROM "LAVATER."
Trust him little who doth raise
To one height both great and small,
And sets the sacred crown of praise,
Smiling, on the head of all.
Trust him less who looks around
To censure all with scornful eyes,
And in everything has found
Something that he dare despise.
But for one who stands apart,
Stirred by nought that can befall,
With a cold indifferent heart,--
Trust him least and last of all.
II. FROM "PHANTASTES."
I have a bitter Thought, a Snake
That used to sting my life to pain.
I strove to cast it far away,
But every night and every day
It crawled back to my heart again.
It was in vain to live or strive,
To think or sleep, to work or pray;
At last I bade this thine accursed
Gnaw at my heart, and do its worst,
And so I let it have its way.
Thus said I, "I shall never fall
Into a false and dreaming peace,
And then awake, with sudden start,
To feel it biting at my heart,
For now the pain can never cease."
But I gained more; for I have found
That such a snake's envenomed charm
Must always, always find a part,
Deep in the centre of my heart,
Which it can never wound or harm.
It is coiled round my heart to-day.
It sleeps at times, this cruel snake,
And while it sleeps it never stings:-
Hush! let us talk of other things,
Lest it should hear me and awake.
III. FROM "LOST ALICE."
Yes, dear, our Love is slain;
In the cold grave for evermore it lies,
Never to wake again,
Or light our sorrow with its starry eyes;
And so--regret is vain.
One hour of pain and dread,
We killed our Love, we took its life away
With the false words we said;
And so we watch it, since that cruel day,
Silent, and cold, and dead.
We should have seen it shine
Long years beside us. Time and Death might try
To touch that life divine,
Whose strength could every other stroke defy
Save only thine and mine.
No longing can restore
Our dead again. Vain are the tears we weep,
And vainly we deplore
Our buried Love: its grave lies dark and deep
Between us evermore.
IV. FROM * * *
Within the kingdom of my Soul
I bid you enter, Love, to-day;
Submit my life to your control,
And give my Heart up to your sway.
My Past, whose light and life is flown,
Shall live through memory for you still;
Take all my Present for your own,
And mould my Future to your will.
One only thought remains apart,
And will for ever so remain;
There is one Chamber in my heart
Where even you might knock in vain.
A haunted Chamber:- long ago
I closed it, and I cast the key
Where deep and bitter waters flow,
Into a vast and silent sea.
Dear, it is haunted. All the rest
Is yours; but I have shut that door
For ever now. 'Tis even best
That I should enter it no more.
No more. It is not well to stay
With ghosts; their very look would scare
Your joyous, loving smile away--
So never try to enter there.
Check, if you love me, all regret
That this one thought remains apart:-
Now let us smile, dear, and forget
The haunted Chamber in my Heart.
VERSE: LIGHT AND SHADE
Thou hast done well to kneel and say,
"Since He who gave can take away,
And bid me suffer, I obey."
And also well to tell thy heart
That good lies in the bitterest part,
And thou wilt profit by her smart.
But bitter hours come to all:
When even truths like these will pall,
Sick hearts for humbler comfort call.
Then I would have thee strive to see
That good and evil come to thee,
As one of a great family.
And as material life is planned,
That even the loneliest one must stand
Dependent on his brother's hand;
So links more subtle and more fine
Bind every other soul to thine
In one great brotherhood divine.
Nor with thy share of work be vexed;
Though incomplete, and even perplex,
It fits exactly to the next.
What seems so dark to thy dim sight
May be a shadow, seen aright,
Making some brightness doubly bright.
The flash that struck thy tree,--no more
To shelter thee,--lets Heaven's blue floor
Shine where it never shone before.
Thy life that has been dropped aside
Into Time's stream, may stir the tide,
In rippled circles spreading wide.
The cry wrung from thy spirit's pain
May echo on some far-off plain,
And guide a wanderer home again.
Fail--yet rejoice; because no less
The failure that makes thy distress
May teach another full success.
It may be that in some great need
Thy life's poor fragments are decreed
To help build up a lofty deed.
Thy heart should throb in vast content,
Thus knowing that it was but meant
As chord in one great instrument;
That even the discord in thy soul
May make completer music roll
From out the great harmonious whole.
It may be, that when all is light,
Deep set within that deep delight
Will be to know why all was right;
To hear life's perfect music rise,
And while it floods the happy skies,
Thy feeble voice to recognise.
Then strive more gladly to fulfil
Thy little part. This darkness still
Is light to every loving will.
And trust,--as if already plain,
How just thy share of loss and pain
Is for another fuller gain.
I dare not limit time or place
Touched by thy life: nor dare I trace
Its far vibrations into space.
One only knows. Yet if the fret
Of thy weak heart, in weak regret
Needs a more tender comfort yet:
Then thou mayst take thy loneliest fears,
The bitterest drops of all thy tears,
The dreariest hours of all thy years;
And through thy anguish there outspread,
May ask that God's great love would shed
Blessings on one beloved head.
And thus thy soul shall learn to draw
Sweetness from out that loving law
That sees no failure and no flaw,
Where all is good. And life is good,
Were the one lesson understood
Of its most sacred brotherhood.
VERSE: A CHANGELING
A little changeling spirit
Crept to my arms one day:
I had no heart or courage
To drive the child away.
So all day long I soothed her,
And hushed her on my breast;
And all night long her wailing
Would never let me rest.
I dug a grave to hold her,
A grave both dark and deep;
I covered her with violets,
And laid her there to sleep.
I used to go and watch there,
Both night and morning too:-
It was my tears, I fancy,
That kept the violets blue.
I took her up: and once more
I felt the clinging hold,
And heard the ceaseless wailing
That wearied me of old.
I wandered, and I wandered,
With my burden on my breast,
Till I saw a church-door open,
And entered in to rest.
In the dim, dying daylight,
Set in a flowery shrine,
I saw the Virgin Mother
Holding her Child divine.
I knelt down there in silence,
And on the Altar-stone
I laid my wailing burden,
And came away--alone.
And now that little spirit,
That sobbed so all day long,
Is grown a shining Angel,
With wines both wide and strong.
She watches me from Heaven,
With loving, tender care,
And one day she has promised
That I shall find her there.
VERSE: DISCOURAGED
Where the little babbling streamlet
First springs forth to light,
Trickling through soft velvet mosses,
Almost hid from sight;
Vowed I with delight,--
"River, I will follow thee,
Through thy wanderings to the Sea!"
Gleaming 'mid the purple heather,
Downward then it sped,
Glancing through the mountain gorges,
Like a silver thread,
As it quicker fled,
Louder music in its flow,
Dashing to the Vale below.
Then its voice grew lower, gentler,
And its pace less fleet,
Just as though it loved to linger
Round the rushes' feet,
As they stooped to meet
Their clear images below,
Broken by the ripples' flow.
Purple Willow-herb bent over
To her shadow fair;
Meadow-sweet, in feathery clusters,
Perfumed all the air;
Silver-weed was there,
And in one calm, grassy spot,
Starry, blue Forget-me-not.
Tangled weeds, below the waters,
Still seemed drawn away;
Yet the current, floating onward,
Was less strong than they;--
Sunbeams watched their play,
With a flickering light and shade,
Through the screen the Alders made.
Broader grew the flowing River;
To its grassy brink
Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays,
Cattle trooped to drink:
The blue sky, I think,
Was no bluer than that stream,
Slipping onward, like a dream.
Quicker, deeper then it hurried,
Rushing fierce and free;
But I said, "It should grow calmer
Ere it meets the Sea,
The wide purple Sea,
Which I weary for in vain,
Wasting all my toil and pain."
But it rushed still quicker, fiercer,
In its rocky bed,
Hard and stony was the pathway
To my tired tread;
"I despair," I said,
"Of that wide and glorious Sea
That was promised unto me."
So I turned aside, and wandered
Through green meadows near,
Far away, among the daisies,
Far away, for fear
Lest I still should hear
The loud murmur of its song,
As the River flowed along.
Now I hear it not:- I loiter
Gaily as before;
Yet I sometimes think,--and thinking
Makes my heart so sore,--
Just a few steps more,
And there might have shone for me,
Blue and infinite, the Sea.
VERSE: IF THOU COULDST KNOW
I think if thou couldst know,
Oh soul that will complain,
What lies concealed below
Our burden and our pain;
How just our anguish brings
Nearer those longed-for things
We seek for now in vain,--
I think thou wouldst rejoice, and not complain.
I think if thou couldst see,
With thy dim mortal sight,
How meanings, dark to thee,
Are shadows hiding light;
Truth's efforts crossed and vexed,
Life's purpose all perplexed,--
If thou couldst see them right,
I think that they would seem all clear, and wise, and bright.
And yet thou canst not know,
And yet thou canst not see;
Wisdom and sight are slow
In poor humanity.
If thou couldst trust, poor soul,
In Him who rules the whole,
Thou wouldst find peace and rest:
Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best.
VERSE: THE WARRIOR TO HIS DEAD BRIDE
If in the fight my arm was strong,
And forced my foes to yield,
If conquering and unhurt I came
Back from the battle-field--
It is because thy prayers have been
My safeguard and my shield.
My comrades smile to see my arm
Spare or protect a foe,
They think thy gentle pleading voice
Was silenced long ago;
But pity and compassion, love,
Were taught me first by woe.
Thy heart, my own, still beats in Heaven
With the same love divine
That made thee stoop to such a soul,
So hard, so stern, as mine--
My eyes have learnt to weep, beloved,
Since last they looked on thine.
I hear thee murmur words of peace
Through the dim midnight air,
And a calm falls from the angel stars
And soothes my great despair--
The Heavens themselves look brighter, love,
Since thy sweet soul is there.
And if my heart is once more calm,
My step is once more free,
It is because each hour I feel
Thou prayest still for me;
Because no fate or change can come
Between my soul and thee.
It is because my heart is stilled.
Not broken by despair,
Because I see the grave is bright,
And death itself is fair--
I dread no more the wrath of Heaven--
I have an angel there!
VERSE: A LETTER
Dear, I tried to write you such a letter
As would tell you all my heart to-day.
Written Love is poor; one word were better;
Easier, too, a thousand times, to say.
I can tell you all: fears, doubts unheeding,
While I can be near you, hold your hand,
Looking right into your eyes, and reading
Reassurance that you understand.
Yet I wrote it through, then lingered, thinking
Of its reaching you,--what hour, what day;
Till I felt my heart and courage sinking
With a strange, new, wondering dismay.
"Will my letter fall," I wondered sadly,
"On her mood like some discordant tone,
Or be welcomed tenderly and gladly?
Will she be with others, or alone?
"It may find her too absorbed to read it,
Save with hurried glance and careless air:
Sad and weary, she may scarcely heed it;
Gay and happy, she may hardly care.
"Shall I--dare I--risk the chances?" slowly
Something,--was it shyness, love, or pride?--
Chilled my heart, and checked my courage wholly;
So I laid it wistfully aside.
Then I leant against the casement, turning
Tearful eyes towards the far-off west,
Where the golden evening light was burning,
Till my heart throbbed back again to rest.
And I thought: "Love's soul is not in fetters,
Neither space nor time keep souls apart;
Since I cannot--dare not--send my letters,
Through the silence I will send my heart.
"If, perhaps now, while my tears are falling,
She is dreaming quietly alone,
She will hear my Love's far echo calling,
Feel my spirit drawing near her own.
"She will hear, while twilight shades enfold her,
All the gathered Love she knows so well--
Deepest Love my words have ever told her,
Deeper still--all I could never tell.
"Wondering at the strange mysterious power
That has touched her heart, then she will say:-
'Some one whom I love, this very hour,
Thinks of me, and loves me, far away.'
"If, as well may be, to-night has found her
Full of other thoughts, with others by,
Through the words and claims that gather round her
She will hear just one, half-smothered sigh;
"Or will marvel why, without her seeking,
Suddenly the thought of me recurs;
Or, while listening to another speaking,
Fancy that my hand is holding hers."
So I dreamed, and watched the stars' far splendour
Glimmering on the azure darkness, start,--
While the star of trust rose bright and tender,
Through the twilight shadows of my heart.
VERSE: A COMFORTER
I.
Will she come to me, little Effie,
Will she come in my arms to rest,
And nestle her head on my shoulder,
While the sun goes down in the west?
II.
"I and Effie will sit together,
All alone, in this great arm-chair:-
Is it silly to mind it, darling,
When Life is so hard to bear?
III.
"No one comforts me like my Effie,
Just I think that she does not try,--
Only looks with a wistful wonder
Why grown people should ever cry;
IV.
"While her little soft arms close tighter
Round my neck in their clinging hold:-
Well, I must not cry on your hair, dear,
For my tears might tarnish the gold.
V.
"I am tired of trying to read, dear;
It is worse to talk and seem gay:
There are some kinds of sorrow, Effie,
It is useless to thrust away.
VI.
"Ah, advice may be wise, my darling,
But one always knows it before;
And the reasoning down one's sorrow
Seems to make one suffer the more.
VII.
"But my Effie won't reason, will she?
Or endeavour to understand;
Only holds up her mouth to kiss me,
As she strokes my face with her hand.
VIII.
"If you break your plaything yourself, dear,
Don't you cry for it all the same?
I don't think it is such a comfort,
One has only oneself to blame.
IX.
"People say things cannot be helped, dear,
But then that is the reason why;
For if things could be helped or altered,
One would never sit down to cry:
X.
"They say, too, that tears are quite useless
To undo, amend, or restore,--
When I think how useless, my Effie,
Then my tears only fall the more.
XI.
"All to-day I struggled against it;
But that does not make sorrow cease;
And now, dear, it is such a comfort
To be able to cry in peace.
XII.
"Though wise people would call that folly,
And remonstrate with grave surprise;
We won't mind what they say, my Effie;--
We never professed to be wise.
"But my comforter knows a lesson
Wiser, truer than all the rest:-
That to help and to heal a sorrow,
Love and silence are always best.
XIV.
"Well, who is my comforter--tell me?
Effie smiles, but she will not speak;
Or look up through the long curled lashes
That are shading her rosy cheek.
XV.
"Is she thinking of talking fishes,
The blue bird, or magical tree?
Perhaps I am thinking, my darling,
Of something that never can be.
XVI.
"You long--don't you, dear?--for the Genii,
Who were slaves of lamps and of rings;
And I--I am sometimes afraid, dear,--
I want as impossible things.
XVII.
"But hark! there is Nurse calling Effie!
It is bedtime, so run away;
And I must go back, or the others
Will be wondering why I stay.
XVIII.
"So good-night to my darling Effie;
Keep happy, sweetheart, and grow wise:-
There's one kiss for her golden tresses,
And two for her sleepy eyes."
VERSE: UNSEEN
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, than we
Can dream of, or than nature understands;
We learn not through our poor philosophy
What hidden chords are touched by unseen hands.
The present hour repeats upon its strings
Echoes of some vague dream we have forgot;
Dim voices whisper half-remembered things,
And when we pause to listen,--answer not.
Forebodings come: we know not how, or whence,
Shadowing a nameless fear upon the soul,
And stir within our hearts a subtler sense,
Than light may read, or wisdom may control.
And who can tell what secret links of thought
Bind heart to heart? Unspoken things are heard,
As if within our deepest selves was brought
The soul, perhaps, of some unuttered word.
But, though a veil of shadow hangs between
That hidden life, and what we see and hear,
Let us revere the power of the Unseen,
And know a world of mystery is near.
VERSE: A REMEMBRANCE OF AUTUMN
Nothing stirs the sunny silence,--
Save the drowsy humming of the bees
Round the rich, ripe peaches on the wall,
And the south wind sighing in the trees,
And the dead leaves rustling as they fall:
While the swallows, one by one, are gathering,
All impatient to be on the wing,
And to wander from us, seeking
Their beloved Spring!
Cloudless rise the azure heavens!
Only vaporous wreaths of snowy white
Nestle in the grey hill's rugged side;
And the golden woods are bathed in light,
Dying, if they must, with kingly pride:
While the swallows in the blue air wheeling,
Circle now an eager fluttering band,
Ready to depart and leave us
For a brighter land!
But a voice is sounding sadly,
Telling of a glory that has been;
Of a day that faded all too fast--
See afar through the blue air serene,
Where the swallows wing their way at last,
And our hearts perchance, as sadly wandering,
Vainly seeking for a long-lost day,
While we watch the far-off swallows,
Flee with them away!
VERSE: THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE
I.
Yes, it looked dark and dreary,
That long and narrow street:
Only the sound of the rain,
And the tramp of passing feet,
The duller glow of the fire,
And gathering mists of night
To mark how slow and weary
The long day's cheerless flight!
II.
Watching the sullen fire,
Hearing the dismal rain,
Drop after drop, run down
On the darkening window-pane:
Chill was the heart of Alice,
Chill as that winter day,--
For the star of her life had risen
Only to fade away.
III.
The voice that had been so strong
To bid the snare depart,
The true and earnest will,
The calm and steadfast heart,
Were now weighed down by sorrow,
Were quivering now with pain;
The clear path now seemed clouded,
And all her grief in vain.
IV.
Duty, Right, Truth, who promised
To help and save their own,
Seemed spreading wide their pinions
To leave her there alone.
So, turning from the Present
To well-known days of yore,
She called on them to strengthen
And guard her soul once more.
V.
She thought how in her girlhood
Her life was given away,
The solemn promise spoken
She kept so well to-day;
How to her brother Herbert
She had been help and guide,
And how his artist nature
On her calm strength relied.
VI.
How through life's fret and turmoil
The passion and fire of art
In him was soothed and quickened
By her true sister heart;
How future hopes had always
Been for his sake alone;
And now,--what strange new feeling
Possessed her as its own?
VII.
Her home--each flower that breathed there,
The wind's sigh, soft and low,
Each trembling spray of ivy,
The river's murmuring flow,
The shadow of the forest,
Sunset, or twilight dim--
Dear as they were, were dearer
By leaving them for him.
VIII.
And each year as it found her
In the dull, feverish town,
Saw self still more forgotten,
And selfish care kept down
By the calm joy of evening
That brought him to her side,
To warn him with wise counsel,
Or praise with tender pride.
IX.
Her heart, her life, her future,
Her genius, only meant
Another thing to give him,
And be therewith content.
To-day, what words had stirred her,
Her soul could not forget?
What dream had filled her spirit
With strange and wild regret?
X.
To leave him for another,--
Could it indeed be so?
Could it have cost such anguish
To bid this vision go?
Was this her faith? Was Herbert
The second in her heart?
Did it need all this struggle
To bid a dream depart?
XI.
And yet, within her spirit
A far-off land was seen,
A home, which might have held her,
A love, which might have been.
And Life--not the mere being
Of daily ebb and flow,
But Life itself had claimed her,
And she had let it go!
XII.
Within her heart there echoed
Again the well-known tone
That promised this bright future,
And asked her for her own:
Then words of sorrow, broken
By half-reproachful pain;
And then a farewell spoken
In words of cold disdain.
XIII.
Where now was the stern purpose
That nerved her soul so long?
Whence came the words she uttered,
So hard, so cold, so strong?
What right had she to banish
A hope that God had given?
Why must she choose earth's portion,
And turn aside from Heaven?
XIV.
To-day! Was it this morning?
If this long, fearful strife
Was but the work of hours,
What would be years of life?
Why did a cruel Heaven
For such great suffering call?
And why--Oh, still more cruel!--
Must her own words do all?
XV.
Did she repent? Oh Sorrow!
Why do we linger still
To take thy loving message,
And do thy gentle will?
See, her tears fall more slowly,
The passionate murmurs cease,
And back upon her spirit
Flow strength, and love, and peace.
XVI.
The fire burns more brightly,
The rain has passed away,
Herbert will see no shadow
Upon his home to-day;
Only that Alice greets him
With doubly tender care,
Kissing a fonder blessing
Down on his golden hair.
II.
I.
The studio is deserted,
Palette and brush laid by,
The sketch rests on the easel,
The paint is scarcely dry;
And Silence--who seems always
Within her depths to bear
The next sound that will utter--
Now holds a dumb despair.
II.
So Alice feels it: listening
With breathless, stony fear,
Waiting the dreadful summons
Each minute brings more near:
When the young life, now ebbing,
Shall fail, and pass away
Into that mighty shadow
Who shrouds the house to-day.
III.
But why--when the sick chamber
Is on the upper floor--
Why dares not Alice enter
Within the close--shut door?
If he--her all--her Brother,
Lies dying in that gloom,
What strange mysterious power
Has sent her from the room?
IV.
It is not one week's anguish
That can have changed her so;
Joy has not died here lately,
Struck down by one quick blow;
But cruel months have needed
Their long relentless chain,
To teach that shrinking manner
Of helpless, hopeless pain.
V.