« AnteriorContinuar »
THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT.
“A widow bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
“ There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.”
THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT.
“SLEEP, sleep on ! forget thy pain ;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain,
My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
And from my fingers flow
The powers of life, and like a sign,
Seal thee from thine hour of woe,
And brood on thee, but may not blend
“Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;
But when I think that he
Who made and makes my lot
As full of flowers as thine of weeds,
Might have been lost like thee,
And that a hand which was not mine
Might then have charmed his agony As I another's— my heart bleeds
“ Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of
The dead and the unborn
Forget thy life and love;
Forget that thou must wake for ever;
Forget the world's dull scorn;
Forget lost health, and the divine
Feelings which died in youth's brief morn; And forget me, for I can never
“Like a cloud big with a May shower,
My soul weeps healing rain,
On thee, thou withered flower ;
It breathes mute music on thy sleep;
Its odour calms thy brain ;
Its light within thy gloomy breast
Spreads like a second youth again.
By mine thy being is to its deep
"The spell is done. How feel you now?” “Better - Quite well," replied
” The sleeper. “ What would do You good when suffering and awake?
What cure your head and side ? “What would cure, that would kill me, Jane :
And as I must on earth abide Awhile, yet tempt me not to break
When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest,
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O, Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home and your bier ?
Its passions will rock thee
As the storms rock the ravens on high :
Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every
rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
TO JANE – THE INVITATION.
Best and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair Day,
Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
The brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
To hoar February born;
Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the Earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed Aowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
I leave this notice on my door
For each accustomed visitor :
“I am gone into the fields
To take what this sweet hour yields;-
Reflexion, you may come to-morrow,
Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.
You with the unpaid bill, Despair,-
You tiresome verse-reciter, Care,
I will pay you in the grave,
Death will listen to your stave.
Expectation too, be off !
To-day is for itself enough;
Hope, in pity mock not Woe
With smiles, nor follow where I go;
Long having lived on thy sweet food,
At length I find one moment's good
After long pain -- with all your love,
This you never told me of.”
Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
And the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green and ivy dun
Round stems that never kiss the sun;
Where the lawns and pastures be,