The Poems of Henry Kendall | Page 8

of dazzling white, And a dear one's whisper wakens with the symphonies of night; And a low sad music cometh, borne along on windy wings,?Like a strain familiar rising from a maze of slumbering springs.
And the Spirit, by my window, speaketh to my restless soul, Telling of the clime she came from, where the silent moments roll; Telling of the bourne mysterious, where the sunny summers flee Cliffs and coasts, by man untrodden, ridging round a shipless sea. There the years of yore are blooming -- there departed life-dreams dwell, There the faces beam with gladness that I loved in youth so well; There the songs of childhood travel, over wave-worn steep and strand -- Over dale and upland stretching out behind this mountain land.
"Lovely Being, can a mortal, weary of this changeless scene, Cross these cloudy summits to the land where man hath never been? Can he find a pathway leading through that wildering mass of pines, So that he shall reach the country where ethereal glory shines; So that he may glance at waters never dark with coming ships; Hearing round him gentle language floating from angelic lips; Casting off his earthly fetters, living there for evermore; All the blooms of Beauty near him, gleaming on that quiet shore?
"Ere you quit this ancient casement, tell me, is it well to yearn For the evanescent visions, vanished never to return??Is it well that I should with to leave this dreary world behind, Seeking for your fair Utopia, which perchance I may not find? Passing through a gloomy forest, scaling steeps like prison walls, Where the scanty sunshine wavers and the moonlight seldom falls? Oh, the feelings re-awakened! Oh, the hopes of loftier range! Is it well, thou friendly Being, well to wish for such a change?"
But the Spirit answers nothing! and the dazzling mantle fades; And a wailing whisper wanders out from dismal seaside shades! "Lo, the trees are moaning loudly, underneath their hood-like shrouds, And the arch above us darkens, scarred with ragged thunder clouds!" But the spirit answers nothing, and I linger all alone,?Gazing through the moony vapours where the lovely Dream has flown; And my heart is beating sadly, and the music waxeth faint,?Sailing up to holy Heaven, like the anthems of a Saint.
Kiama
Towards the hills of Jamberoo
Some few fantastic shadows haste,
Uplit with fires?Like castle spires?Outshining through a mirage waste.?Behold, a mournful glory sits
On feathered ferns and woven brakes,?Where sobbing wild like restless child
The gusty breeze of evening wakes!?Methinks I hear on every breath
A lofty tone go passing by,
That whispers -- "Weave,?Though wood winds grieve,?The fadeless blooms of Poesy!"
A spirit hand has been abroad --
An evil hand to pluck the flowers --
A world of wealth,?And blooming health?Has gone from fragrant seaside bowers.?The twilight waxeth dim and dark,
The sad waves mutter sounds of woe,?But the evergreen retains its sheen,
And happy hearts exist below;?But pleasure sparkles on the sward,
And voices utter words of bliss,
And while my bride?Sits by my side,?Oh, where's the scene surpassing this?
Kiama slumbers, robed with mist,
All glittering in the dewy light
That, brooding o'er?The shingly shore,?Lies resting in the arms of Night;?And foam-flecked crags with surges chill,
And rocks embraced of cold-lipped spray,?Are moaning loud where billows crowd
In angry numbers up the bay.?The holy stars come looking down
On windy heights and swarthy strand,
And Life and Love --?The cliffs above --?Are sitting fondly hand in hand.
I hear a music inwardly,
That floods my soul with thoughts of joy;
Within my heart?Emotions start?That Time may still but ne'er destroy.?An ancient Spring revives itself,
And days which made the past divine;?And rich warm gleams from golden dreams,
All glorious in their summer shine;?And songs of half forgotten hours,
And many a sweet melodious strain,
Which still shall rise?Beneath the skies?When all things else have died again.
A white sail glimmers out at sea --
A vessel walking in her sleep;
Some Power goes past?That bends the mast,?While frighted waves to leeward leap.?The moonshine veils the naked sand
And ripples upward with the tide,?As underground there rolls a sound
From where the caverned waters glide.?A face that bears affection's glow,
The soul that speaks from gentle eyes,
And joy which slips?From loving lips?Have made this spot my Paradise!
Etheline
The heart that once was rich with light,?And happy in your grace,?Now lieth cold beneath the scorn?That gathers on your face;?And every joy it knew before,?And every templed dream,?Is paler than the dying flash?On yonder mountain stream.?The soul, regretting foundered bliss?Amid the wreck of years,?Hath mourned it with intensity?Too deep for human tears!
The forest fadeth underneath?The blast that rushes by --?The dripping leaves are white with death,?But Love will never die!?We both have seen the starry moss?That clings where Ruin reigns,?And ~one~ must know ~his~ lonely breast?Affection still retains;?Through all the sweetest hopes of life,?That clustered round and round,?Are lying now, like withered things,?Forsaken -- on the ground.
'Tis hard to think of what we were,?And what we