I ’m wearing awa’, Jean,
Like snaw when it ’s thaw, Jean;
I ’m wearing awa’,
To the land o’ the leal.
There ’s nae sorrow there, Jean,
There ’s neither cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is aye fair
In the land o’ the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean;
Your task ’s ended noo, Jean,
And I ’ll welcome you...
“I am dying, Egypt, dying.”
—SHAKESPEARE’S Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV. Sc. 13.
I AM dying, Egypt, dying,
Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows
Gather on the evening blast;
Let thine arms, O Queen, enfold me,
Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear;
Listen to the great heart-secrets,
Thou,...
My body, eh? Friend Death, how now?
Why all this tedious pomp of writ?
Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow
For half a century, bit by bit.
In faith thou knowest more to-day
Than I do, where it can be found!
This shrivelled lump of suffering clay,
To which I now am chained and bound,
Has not of kith or kin a trace...
Written During Sickness, April, 1845
FAREWELL, life! my senses swim,
And the world is growing dim;
Thronging shadows cloud the light,
Like the advent of the night,—
Colder, colder, colder still,
Upward steals a vapor chill;
Strong the earthly odor grows,—
I smell the mold above the rose!
Welcome, life! the spirit strives...
Thank Heaven! the crisis,—
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last,—
And the fever called “Living”
Is conquered at last.
Sadly, I know,
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length,—
But no matter!—I feel
I am better at length.
And I...
Cry of the Ten Thousand
I STAND upon the summit of my life,
Behind, the camp, the court, the field, the grove,
The battle, and the burden: vast, afar
Beyond these weary ways. Behold! the Sea!
The sea o’erswept by clouds and winds and wings;
By thoughts and wishes manifold, whose breath
Is freshness and whose mighty pulse is peace.
...
“He giveth his belovèd sleep.”
—PSALM cxxvii. 2.
OF all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Among the Psalmist’s music deep,
Now tell me if that any is,
For gift or grace, surpassing this,—
“He giveth his belovèd sleep”?
What would we give to our beloved?
The hero’s heart, to be unmoved,—...
Fear death? to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit...
I Would not live alway—live alway below!
Oh no, I ’ll not linger when bidden to go:
The days of our pilgrimage granted us here
Are enough for life’s woes, full enough for its cheer:
Would I shrink from the path which the prophets of God,
Apostles, and martyrs, so joyfully trod?
Like a spirit unblest, o’er the earth would I roam,
While...
I Strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
I warmed both hands before the fire of life,—
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
