Whence, O fragrant form of light,
Hast thou drifted through the night,
Swanlike, to a leafy nest,
On the restless waves, at rest?
Art thou from the snowy zone
Of a mountain-summit blown,
Or the blossom of a dream,
Fashioned in the foamy...
No more the battle or the chase
The phantom tribes pursue,
But each in its accustomed place
The Autumn hails anew:
And still from solemn councils set
On every hill and plain,
The smoke of many a calumet
Ascends to heaven again.
The bubble
why should I stay? Nor seed nor fruit have I.
But, sprung at once to beauty’s perfect round,
Nor loss, nor gain, nor change in me is found,—
A life—complete in death—complete to die.
BECALMED
THE BAR is crossed; but Death—the pilot—...
I
long, long before the Babe could speak,
When he would kiss his mother’s cheek
And to her bosom press,
The brightest angels standing near
Would turn away to hide a tear—
For they are motherless.
II
WHERE were ye, Birds,...
Godlike beneath his grave divinities,
The last of all their worshippers, he stood.
The shadows of a vanished multitude
Enwound him, and their voices in the breeze
Made murmur, while the meditative trees
Reared of their strong fraternal branches rude...
No more the battle or the chase
The phantom tribes pursue,
But each in its accustomed place
The Autumn hails anew:
And still from solemn councils set
On every hill and plain,
The smoke of many a calumet
Ascends to heaven again.
They cannot wholly pass away,
How far soe’er above;
Nor we, the lingerers, wholly stay
Apart from those we love:
For spirits in eternity,
As shadows in the sun,
Reach backward into Time, as we,
Like lifted clouds, reach on.
Little masters, hat in hand
Let me in your presence stand,
Till your silence solve for me
This your threefold mystery.
Tell me—for I long to know—
How, in darkness there below,
Was your fairy fabric spun,
Spread and fashioned, three in...
Anonymous—nor needs a name
To tell the secret whence the flame,
With light, and warmth, and incense, came
A new creation to proclaim.
So was it when, His labor done,
God saw His work, and smiled thereon:
His glory in the picture shone,
...
The waves forever move;
The hills forever rest:
Yet each the heavens approve,
And Love alike hath blessed
A Martha’s household care,
A Mary’s cloistered prayer.
