H HAWTHORNE MAY 23, 1864. OW beautiful it was, that one bright day Though all its splendor could not chase away The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms Across the meadows, by the gray old manse, I was as one who wanders in a trance, The faces of familiar friends seemed strange; Their voices I could hear, And yet the words they uttered seemed to change Their meaning to my ear. For the one face I looked for was not the The one low voice was mute; Only an unseen presence filled the air, And baffled my pursuit. Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream Dimly my thought defines; I only see a dream within a dream The hill-top hearsed with pines. I only hear above his place of rest Their tender undertone, The infinite longings of a troubled breast, The voice so like his own. There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower Unfinished must remain ! CHRISTMAS BELLS HEARD the bells on Christmas Day And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Till, ringing, singing on its way, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Then from each black, accursed mouth The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men! It was as if an earthquake rent And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And in despair I bowed my head; And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: "God is not dead; nor doth he sleep! The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men!" THE WIND OVER THE CHIMNEY EE, the fire is sinking low, SE Dusky red the embers glow, Sings the blackened log a tune From a school-boy at his play, And the night-wind rising, hark! In the midnight and the snow, All the noisy chimneys blow! Every quivering tongue of flame Seems to say to me," Aspire! !" |