Poems, third period | Page 2

guard its cause so holy.?Most blest of all, the meek one's lot shall be--?Love's flowers by love's own hand are gathered solely-- The fairest prize to that fond heart is due,?That feels it, and that beats responsive, too!
THE SECRET.
She sought to breathe one word, but vainly;?Too many listeners were nigh;?And yet my timid glance read plainly?The language of her speaking eye.?Thy silent glades my footstep presses,?Thou fair and leaf-embosomed grove!?Conceal within thy green recesses?From mortal eye our sacred love!
Afar with strange discordant noises,?The busy day is echoing;?And 'mid the hollow hum of voices,?I hear the heavy hammer ring.?'Tis thus that man, with toil ne'er ending?Extorts from heaven his daily bread;?Yet oft unseen the Gods are sending?The gifts of fortune on his head!
Oh, let mankind discover never?How true love fills with bliss our hearts?They would but crush our joy forever,?For joy to them no glow imparts.?Thou ne'er wilt from the world obtain it--?'Tis never captured save as prey;?Thou needs must strain each nerve to gain it,?E'er envy dark asserts her sway.
The hours of night and stillness loving,?It comes upon us silently--?Away with hasty footstep moving?Soon as it sees a treacherous eye.?Thou gentle stream, soft circlets weaving,?A watery barrier cast around,?And, with thy waves in anger heaving,?Guard from each foe this holy ground!
THE ASSIGNATION. [14]
Hear I the creaking gate unclose??The gleaming latch uplifted??No--'twas the wind that, whirring, rose,?Amidst the poplars drifted!?Adorn thyself, thou green leaf-bowering roof,?Destined the bright one's presence to receive,?For her, a shadowy palace-hall aloof?With holy night, thy boughs familiar weave.?And ye sweet flatteries of the delicate air,?Awake and sport her rosy cheek around,?When their light weight the tender feet shall bear,?When beauty comes to passion's trysting-ground.
Hush! what amidst the copses crept--?So swiftly by me now??No-'twas the startled bird that swept?The light leaves of the bough!?Day, quench thy torch! come, ghostlike, from on high,?With thy loved silence, come, thou haunting Eve,?Broaden below thy web of purple dye,?Which lulled boughs mysterious round us weave.?For love's delight, enduring listeners none,?The froward witness of the light will flee;?Hesper alone, the rosy silent one,?Down-glancing may our sweet familiar be!
What murmur in the distance spoke,?And like a whisper died??No--'twas the swan that gently broke?In rings the silver tide!?Soft to my ear there comes a music-flow;?In gleesome murmur glides the waterfall;?To zephyr's kiss the flowers are bending low;?Through life goes joy, exchanging joy with all.?Tempt to the touch the grapes--the blushing fruit, [15] Voluptuous swelling from the leaves that bide;?And, drinking fever from my cheek, the mute?Air sleeps all liquid in the odor-tide!
Hark! through the alley hear I now?A footfall? Comes the maiden??No,--'twas the fruit slid from the bough,?With its own richness laden!
Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death,?And pale and paler wane his jocund hues,?The flowers too gentle for his glowing breath,?Ope their frank beauty to the twilight dews.?The bright face of the moon is still and lone,?Melts in vast masses the world silently;?Slides from each charm the slowly-loosening zone;?And round all beauty, veilless, roves the eye.
What yonder seems to glimmer??Her white robe's glancing hues??No,--'twas the column's shimmer?Athwart the darksome yews!
O, longing heart, no more delight-upbuoyed?Let the sweet airy image thee befool!?The arms that would embrace her clasp the void?This feverish breast no phantom-bliss can cool,?O, waft her here, the true, the living one!?Let but my hand her hand, the tender, feel--?The very shadow of her robe alone!--?So into life the idle dream shall steal!
As glide from heaven, when least we ween,?The rosy hours of bliss,?All gently came the maid, unseen:--?He waked beneath her kiss!
LONGING.
Could I from this valley drear,?Where the mist hangs heavily,?Soar to some more blissful sphere,?Ah! how happy should I be!?Distant hills enchant my sight,?Ever young and ever fair;?To those hills I'd take my flight?Had I wings to scale the air.
Harmonies mine ear assail,?Tunes that breathe a heavenly calm;?And the gently-sighing gale?Greets me with its fragrant balm.?Peeping through the shady bowers,?Golden fruits their charms display.?And those sweetly-blooming flowers?Ne'er become cold winter's prey.
In you endless sunshine bright,?Oh! what bliss 'twould be to dwell!?How the breeze on yonder height?Must the heart with rapture swell!?Yet the stream that hems my path?Checks me with its angry frown,?While its waves, in rising wrath,?Weigh my weary spirit down.
See--a bark is drawing near,?But, alas, the pilot fails!?Enter boldly--wherefore fear??Inspiration fills its sails,?Faith and courage make thine own,--?Gods ne'er lend a helping-hand;?'Tis by magic power alone?Thou canst reach the magic land!
EVENING.
(AFTER A PICTURE.)
Oh! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirsting, Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining;
Wearily move on thy horses--
Let, then, thy chariot descend!
Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows,?Lovingly nods and smiles?--Thy heart must know her!