Indian Legends and Other Poems Part 8

Of the countless throng around me Each hath labors like to thine, Each, methinks, some Mona Lisa In his spirit's inmost shrine.

Visions haunt us from our childhood Of a love so pure, so true, Time and tears, and care and anguish, Leave it steadfast, fair and new;--

Visions that elude for ever, As the silent years depart, Some unhappy ones and weary,-- Mona Lisas of the heart.

Gleams of that divine completeness G.o.d's angelic ones attain, Pa.s.s amid our toils before us, And we emulate in vain.

Poet fancies crowd the spirit, We would print upon the scroll-- But that perfect utterance faileth-- Mona Lisas of the soul.

SPRING LILIES.

'Neath their green and cool cathedrals, In the garden lilies bloom, Casting to the fresh Spring Zephyrs Peal on peal of sweet perfume.

Often have I, pausing near them When the sunset flushed the sky, Seen the coral bells vibrating With their fragrant harmony.

And, within my quiet dwelling, I have now a Lily fair, Whose young spirit's sweet Spring budding Watch I with unfailing care: G.o.d, in placing her beside me, Made my being most complete, And my heart keeps time for ever With the music of her feet.

I remember not, while gazing In her earnest eyes of blue, That the earth has aught of sorrow Aught less innocent and true; And the restlessness and longing Wakened by the cares of day, With the burden and the tumult, In her presence fall away.

s.h.i.+eld my Lily, Holy Father!

s.h.i.+eld her from the whirlwind's might, But protracted suns.h.i.+ne temper With a soft and starry night; 'Neath the burning suns of Summer, Withered, scorched, the spring-flower lies, Human hearts contract, when strangers Long to clouds and tearful eyes.

Give her purpose strong and holy, Faith and self-devotion high; These Life's common by-ways brighten Every hope intensify.

Teach her all the brave endurance That the sons of earth require; May she, with a patient labor, To the great and good aspire.

Should some mighty grief oppress her, Heavier than she can bear, Oh! sustain her by Thy presence, Hear and answer Thou her prayer: And whene'er the storms of winter Round my precious Lily reign, To a fairer clime transplant her, There to live and bloom again.

LINES TO D. G. T., OF SHERWOOD.

Blessings on thee, n.o.ble boy!

With thy sunny eyes of blue, Speaking in their cloudless depths Of a spirit pure and true.

In thy thoughtful look and calm, In thy forehead broad and high, We have seemed to meet again One whose home is in the sky.

Thou to Earth art still a stranger, To Life's tumult and unrest; Angel visitants alone Stir the fountains in thy breast.

Thou hast yet no Past to shadow With a fear the Future's light, And the Present spreads before thee Boundless as the Infinite.

But each pa.s.sing hour must waken Energies that slumber now, Manhood with its fire and action Stamp that fair, unfurrowed brow.

Into Life's sublime arena, Opening through the world's broad mart, Bear thy Mother's gentle spirit, And her kind and loving heart.

With exalted hope and purpose, To the great and good aspire; Downward, in unsullied glory, Hand the honor of thy sire,--

With that love for Truth and Justice, Future annals shall declare Highest proof of moral greatness;-- n.o.bly live and bravely dare.

Cloudless pa.s.s thine infant days, Childhood bring thee naught but joy, Manhood, thought, and dignity; Blessings on thee, n.o.ble boy!

LITTLE KATE.

Beside me, in the golden light That slants upon the floor, She twines the many-colored silks Her dimpled fingers o'er; Uplifting now and then her eye, Or praise or blame in mine to spy.

For her sweet sake I've cast aside The books I've loved so well, And given up my being to Affection's mighty spell; Ambition's visions vanish all, Before the music of her call.

The fancy of the past, that lent To jewels bright and rare Ascendency at every birth In this our planet's air, Hath to October's children given The opal with its hues of Heaven.

The golden sunlight in the sky, The red leaf on the plain; Beneath the opal's changeful light Hope and Misfortune reign; And mid gay leaves of wondrous dyes, My darling first unclosed her eyes.

I cannot in the future look The augury to prove, But earthly joys and earthly woes Must human spirits move; And she, like all, must strive with care, Disasters meet, and suffering bear.

But I will teach her hopefully To meet what Fate betides, To live and labor earnestly, In narrow path or wide; And, with salt tears on paling cheek, A benediction still to speak.

And if in some sweet inner sphere, Some home of love apart, An angel's duty she fulfil With but a woman's heart, Haply the red leaf, in its advent, may Find Hope o'er sorrow dominant for aye.

A THOUGHT OF THE STARS.

I remember once, when a careless child, I played on the mossy lea; The stars looked forth in the shadowy west, And I stole to my mother's knee,

With a handful of stemless violets, wet With the drops of gathering dew, And asked of the wonderful points of light That shone in the distant blue.

She told me of numberless worlds, that rolled Through the measureless depths above, Created by infinite might and power, Supported by infinite love.

She told of a faith that she called divine, Of a fairer and happier home; Of hope unsullied by grief or fear, And a loftier life to come.

She told of seraphs, on wings of light, That floated from star to star, And were sometimes sent on a mission high To a blighted orb afar.

And with childish sense, I forgot the worlds, She had pointed out on high, And deemed each wonderful beam of light The glance of an angel's eye.

And when she knelt with her babes in prayer,-- I know each pet.i.tion now,-- I saw the gleam of those wings of light Lie beautiful on her brow.

Years pa.s.sed, and in earliest youth I knelt By my mother's dying bed; The lips were mute that had spoken love, And the eye's bright glance had fled.

And when I turned from that silent room Where the latest word was spoken, The shadow of death o'er my spirit lay, And I thought that my heart was broken