Can earthly commerce hush the music of the heart, and shut the door
of memory on a friend?
--Miss Whittlesey.
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,
Anticipating 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 shiver
With death and coldness, if we brave the river
With wise and strong endeavor.
O Song! O fount of sweetest nectar welling!
Of thy refreshings let my sad heart drink;
'Tis past!--too late--too late, vain trump, your swelling;
My spirit ear hath heard a surer knelling--
'Tis passing sweet, what these mule wires are telling--
O what a joy to think!