Time's river in its rushing current
Sweeps all the human deeds away,
And fills an abyss of oblivion
With nations, kingdoms and their kings,
But if there is something remaining
Through sounds of lyre or trumpet’s air,
Will enter the Eternal gullet—
And will not flee the common...
Time's wily Chargers will not wait
At any Gate but Woe's —
But there — so gloat to hesitate
They will not stir for blows —
" 'Tis the cuckoo—
Listen well !
How much soever gods ye be."[1]
Title divine — is mine!
The Wife — without the Sign!
Acute Degree — conferred on me —
Empress of Calvary!
Royal — all but the Crown!
Betrothed — without the swoon
God sends us Women —
When you — hold — Garnet to Garnet —
Gold — to Gold —
Born — Bridalled — Shrouded —...
Within these leafless trees,
That bare against the sky,
Their naked branches rear;
Leaves, buds, and blossoms lie.
So beauty's myriad forms,
Within thy soul are sleeping;
While thou, upon their sleep,
...
I do not ask if an illustrious name
Has shed upon thy birth its purple glow;
Nor do I ask what titles thou canst claim,
What ribbon favors, such as kings bestow.
Why should I, when upon thy brow I see,
In its expression of all lofty things,...
Give me but the energy,
That guides thy dauntless will;
Give me but thy ardent hope,
That no reverse can chill;
Thy buoyant soul, that on life's sea,
No billows can o'erwhelm,
When Faith sits smiling through the clouds,...
This life is to thee like a region enchanted,
O'er which thy rich fancy its rose-color throws;
The hours as they pass thee with visions are haunted,
And thou dream'st them away in inglorious repose.
Around thee bold hearts the rude war are waging,
...
In the noble army of Reform
Thou art a pioneer;
And bravely wields thy good right arm,
The broadsword and the spear.
Thou may'st not see the battle's close,
The victory may'st not win:
But the scars upon thy spirit prove,...
The brilliant west is glowing,
With sunset's farewell ray;
The silver waves are flowing,
On to the distant sea;
The pale bright stars are keeping
Their watch through night's still hours;
The dews in joy are weeping
...