The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell | Page 3

then!

Oh stern word--Nevermore!
As the airy gossamere, 70
Floating in the sunlight clear,
Where'er it
toucheth clingeth tightly,
Bound glossy leal or stump unsightly,
So
from his spirit wandered out
Tendrils spreading all about,
Knitting
all things to its thrall
With a perfect love of all:
Oh stern
word--Nevermore!
He did but float a little way
Adown the stream of time, 80
With
dreamy eyes watching the ripples play,
Or hearkening their fairy
chime;
His slender sail
Ne'er felt the gale;
He did but float a little
way,
And, putting to the shore
While yet 't was early day,
Went
calmly on his way,
To dwell with us no more!
No jarring did he
feel, 90
No grating on his shallop's keel;
A strip of silver sand

Mingled the waters with the land

Where he was seen no more:
Oh
stern word--Nevermore!
Full short his journey was; no dust
Of earth unto his sandals clave;

The weary weight that old men must,
He bore not to the grave.
He
seemed a cherub who had lost his way 100
And wandered hither, so
his stay
With us was short, and 't was most meet
That he should be
no delver in earth's clod,
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
To
stand before his God:
Oh blest word--Evermore!
THE SIRENS

The sea is lonely, the sea is dreary,
The sea is restless and uneasy;

Thou seekest quiet, thou art weary,
Wandering thou knowest not
whither;--
Our little isle is green and breezy,
Come and rest thee!
Oh come hither,
Come to this peaceful home of ours,
Where evermore
The low west-wind creeps panting up the shore 9

To be at rest among the flowers;
Full of rest, the green moss lifts,

As the dark waves of the sea
Draw in and out of rocky rifts,
Calling
solemnly to thee
With voices deep and hollow,--
'To the shore
Follow! Oh, follow!
To be at rest forevermore!
Forevermore!'
Look how the gray old Ocean 20
From the depth of his heart rejoices,

Heaving with a gentle motion,
When he hears our restful voices;

List how he sings in an undertone,
Chiming with our melody;
And
all sweet sounds of earth and air
Melt into one low voice alone,

That murmurs over the weary sea,
And seems to sing from
everywhere,--
'Here mayst thou harbor peacefully, 30
Here mayst
thou rest from the aching oar;
Turn thy curved prow ashore,
And in
our green isle rest forevermore!
Forevermore!'
And Echo half wakes in the wooded hill,
And, to her
heart so calm and deep,
Murmurs over in her sleep,
Doubtfully
pausing and murmuring still,
'Evermore!'
Thus, on Life's weary sea, 40
Heareth the marinere

Voices sweet, from far and near,
Ever singing low and clear,
Ever
singing longingly.
Is it not better here to be,
Than to be toiling late and soon?
In the
dreary night to see
Nothing but the blood-red moon
Go up and
down into the sea;
Or, in the loneliness of day, 50
To see the still
seals only
Solemnly lift their faces gray,
Making it yet more lonely?


Is it not better than to hear
Only the sliding of the wave
Beneath
the plank, and feel so near
A cold and lonely grave,
A restless grave,
where thou shalt lie
Even in death unquietly?
Look down beneath
thy wave-worn bark, 60
Lean over the side and see
The leaden eye
of the sidelong shark
Upturnèd patiently,
Ever waiting there for thee:
Look down and see
those shapeless forms,
Which ever keep their dreamless sleep
Far
down within the gloomy deep,
And only stir themselves in storms,

Rising like islands from beneath,
And snorting through the angry
spray, 70
As the frail vessel perisheth
In the whirls of their
unwieldy play;
Look down! Look down!
Upon the seaweed, slimy
and dark,
That waves its arms so lank and brown,
Beckoning for thee!
Look down beneath thy wave-worn bark
Into the cold depth of the sea!
Look down! Look down!
Thus, on
Life's lonely sea, 80
Heareth the marinere
Voices sad, from far and
near,
Ever singing full of fear,
Ever singing drearfully.
Here all is pleasant as a dream;
The wind scarce shaketh down the
dew,
The green grass floweth like a stream
Into the ocean's blue;
Listen! Oh, listen!
Here is a gush of many
streams,
A song of many birds, 91
And every wish and longing
seems
Lulled to a numbered flow of words,--
Listen! Oh, listen!
Here ever hum the golden bees
Underneath
full-blossomed trees,
At once with glowing fruit and flowers
crowned;--
So smooth the sand, the yellow sand,

That thy keel will
not grate as it touches the land;
All around with a slumberous sound,
100
The singing waves slide up the strand,
And there, where the
smooth, wet pebbles be,
The waters gurgle longingly,
As If they
fain would seek the shore,
To be at rest from the ceaseless roar,
To

be at rest forevermore,--
Forevermore.
Thus, on Life's gloomy sea,
Heareth the marinere

Voices sweet, from far and near, 110
Ever singing in his ear,
'Here
is rest and peace for thee!'
IRENÉ
Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear;
Calmly beneath her earnest
face it lies,
Free without boldness, meek without a fear,
Quicker to
look than speak its sympathies;
Far down into her large and patient
eyes
I gaze, deep-drinking of the infinite,
As, in the mid-watch of a
clear, still night,
I look into the fathomless blue skies.
So circled lives she with Love's holy light,
That from the shade of
self she walketh free; 10
The garden of her soul