FullReads

XI.

And blushing maiden–modestly array’d
In spotless white,–still conscious of the glass;
And she, the lonely widow, that hath made
A sable covenant with grief,–alas!
She veils her tears under the deep, deep shade,
While the poor kindly-hearted, as they pass,
Bend to unclouded childhood, and caress
Her boy,–so rosy!–and so fatherless!

XII.

Thus, as good Christians ought, they all draw near
The fair white temple, to the timely call
Of pleasant bells that tremble in the ear.–
Now the last frock, and scarlet hood, and shawl
Fade into dusk, in the dim atmosphere
Of the low porch, and heav’n has won them all,
–Saying those two, that turn aside and pass,
In velvet blossom, where all flesh is grass.

XIII.

Ah me! to see their silken manors trail’d
In purple luxuries–with restless gold,–
Flaunting the grass where widowhood has wail’d
In blotted black,–over the heapy mould
Panting wave-wantonly! They never quail’d
How the warm vanity abused the cold;
Nor saw the solemn faces of the gone
Sadly uplooking through transparent stone:

XIV.

But swept their dwellings with unquiet light,
Shocking the awful presence of the dead;
Where gracious natures would their eyes benight,
Nor wear their being with a lip too red,
Nor move too rudely in the summer bright
Of sun, but put staid sorrow in their tread,
Meting it into steps, with inward breath,
In very pity to bereaved death.

XV.

Now in the church, time-sober’d minds resign
To solemn pray’r, and the loud chaunted hymn,–
With glowing picturings of joys divine
Painting the mist-light where the roof is dim;
But youth looks upward to the window shine,
Warming with rose and purple and the swim
Of gold, as if thought-tinted by the stains
Of gorgeous light through many-color’d panes;

XVI.

Soiling the virgin snow wherein God hath
Enrobed his angels,–and with absent eyes
Hearing of Heav’n, and its directed path,
Thoughtful of slippers–and the glorious skies
Clouding with satin,–till the preacher’s wrath
Consumes his pity, and he glows and cries
With a deep voice that trembles in its might,
And earnest eyes grow eloquent in light:

XVII.

“Oh, that the vacant eye would learn to look
On very beauty, and the heart embrace
True loveliness, and from this holy book
Drink the warm-breathing tenderness and grace
Of love indeed! Oh, that the young soul took
Its virgin passion from the glorious face
Of fair religion, and address’d its strife,
To win the riches of eternal life!”

XVIII.

“Doth the vain heart love glory that is none,
And the poor excellence of vain attire?
Oh go, and drown your eyes against the sun,
The visible ruler of the starry quire,
Till boiling gold in giddy eddies run,
Dazzling the brain with orbs of living fire;
And the faint soul down-darkens into night,
And dies a burning martyrdom to light.”

XIX.

Oh go, and gaze,–when the low winds of ev’n
Breathe hymns, and Nature’s many forests nod
Their gold-crown’d heads; and the rich blooms of heav’n
Sun-ripen’d give their blushes up to God;
And mountain-rocks and cloudy steeps are riv’n
By founts of fire, as smitten by the rod
Of heavenly Moses,–that your thirsty sense
May quench its longings of magnificence!

XX.

“Yet suns shall perish–stars shall fade away–
Day into darkness–darkness into death–
Death into silence; the warm light of day,
The blooms of summer, the rich glowing breath
Of even–all shall wither and decay,
Like the frail furniture of dreams beneath
The touch of morn–or bubbles of rich dyes
That break and vanish in the aching eyes.”