Angel in the House | Page 8

woof presents;
Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves,?All doff for her their ornaments,
Which suit her better than themselves;?And all, by this their power to give,
Proving her right to take, proclaim?Her beauty's clear prerogative
To profit so by Eden's blame.
III.--Compensation.
That nothing here may want its praise,
Know, she who in her dress reveals?A fine and modest taste, displays
More loveliness than she conceals.
THE MORNING CALL.
1
'By meekness charm'd, or proud to allow
A queenly claim to live admired,?Full many a lady has ere now
My apprehensive fancy fired,?And woven many a transient chain;
But never lady like to this,?Who holds me as the weather-vane
Is held by yonder clematis.?She seems the life of nature's powers;
Her beauty is the genial thought?Which makes the sunshine bright; the flowers,
But for their hint of her, were nought.'
2
A voice, the sweeter for the grace
Of suddenness, while thus I dream'd,?'Good morning!' said or sang. Her face
The mirror of the morning seem'd.?Her sisters in the garden walk'd,
And would I come? Across the Hall?She led me; and we laugh'd and talk'd,
And praised the Flower-show and the Ball;?And Mildred's pinks had gain'd the Prize;
And, stepping like the light-foot fawn,?She brought me 'Wiltshire Butterflies,'
The Prize-book; then we paced the lawn,?Close-cut, and with geranium-plots,
A rival glow of green and red;?Than counted sixty apricots
On one small tree; the gold-fish fed;?And watch'd where, black with scarlet tans,
Proud Psyche stood and flash'd like flame,?Showing and shutting splendid fans;
And in the prize we found its name.
3
The sweet hour lapsed, and left my breast
A load of joy and tender care;?And this delight, which life oppress'd,
To fix'd aims grew, that ask'd for pray'r.?I rode home slowly; whip-in-hand
And soil'd bank-notes all ready, stood?The Farmer who farm'd all my land,
Except the little Park and Wood;?And with the accustom'd compliment
Of talk, and beef, and frothing beer,?I, my own steward, took my rent,
Three hundred pounds for half the year;?Our witnesses the Cook and Groom,
We sign'd the lease for seven years more,?And bade Good-day; then to my room
I went, and closed and lock'd the door,?And cast myself down on my bed,
And there, with many a blissful tear,?I vow'd to love and pray'd to wed
The maiden who had grown so dear;?Thank'd God who had set her in my path;
And promised, as I hoped to win,?That I would never dim my faith
By the least selfishness or sin;?Whatever in her sight I'd seem
I'd truly be; I'd never blend?With my delight in her a dream
'Twould change her cheek to comprehend;?And, if she wish'd it, I'd prefer
Another's to my own success;?And always seek the best for her
With unofficious tenderness.
4
Rising, I breathed a brighter clime,
And found myself all self above,?And, with a charity sublime,
Contemn'd not those who did not love:?And I could not but feel that then
I shone with something of her grace,?And went forth to my fellow men
My commendation in my face.
CANTO V.--THE VIOLETS
PRELUDES.
I.--The Comparison.
Where she succeeds with cloudless brow,
In common and in holy course,?He fails, in spite of prayer and vow
And agonies of faith and force;?Or, if his suit with Heaven prevails
To righteous life, his virtuous deeds?Lack beauty, virtue's badge; she fails
More graciously than he succeeds.?Her spirit, compact of gentleness,
If Heaven postpones or grants her pray'r,?Conceives no pride in its success,
And in its failure no despair;?But his, enamour'd of its hurt,
Baffled, blasphemes, or, not denied,?Crows from the dunghill of desert,
And wags its ugly wings for pride.?He's never young nor ripe; she grows
More infantine, auroral, mild,?And still the more she lives and knows
The lovelier she's express'd a child.?Say that she wants the will of man
To conquer fame, not check'd by cross,?Nor moved when others bless or ban;
She wants but what to have were loss.?Or say she wants the patient brain
To track shy truth; her facile wit?At that which he hunts down with pain
Flies straight, and does exactly hit.?Were she but half of what she is,
He twice himself, mere love alone,?Her special crown, as truth is his,
Gives title to the worthier throne;?For love is substance, truth the form;
Truth without love were less than nought;?But blindest love is sweet and warm,
And full of truth not shaped by thought,?And therefore in herself she stands
Adorn'd with undeficient grace,?Her happy virtues taking hands,
Each smiling in another's face.?So, dancing round the Tree of Life,
They make an Eden in her breast,?While his, disjointed and at strife,
Proud-thoughted, do not bring him rest.
II.--Love in Tears.
If fate Love's dear ambition mar,
And load his breast with hopeless pain,?And seem to blot out sun and star,
Love, won or lost, is countless gain;?His sorrow boasts a secret bliss
Which sorrow of itself beguiles,?And Love in tears too noble is
For pity, save of Love in smiles.?But, looking backward through his tears,
With vision of maturer scope,?How often one dead joy appears
The platform of some better hope!?And, let us own, the sharpest smart
Which human patience may endure?Pays light for that which leaves the heart
More generous, dignified, and pure.
III.--PROSPECTIVE FAITH.
They safely walk in darkest ways
Whose youth is lighted from above,?Where, through the senses' silvery haze,
Dawns