And his thoughts with hope are swelling,
For his watch it well may cheer,
To know that at last he speeds to her
He has left for many a year.
And she, in the darken'd chamber
Where day is turn'd to night,
By the candle dimly lighted,
She lies in her shroud of white;
Closed eye, and cold, cold cheek;
The slumber of death sleeps she,
Of meeting with whom he's dreaming
In his homeward watch at sea.
O GOD! how often memory tries,
O God! how oft in vain,
Once more to look on those dear eyes
Mine may not see again!
A dim sweet glance, half lost, half seen, Remembrance may restore,
The tears the passion that have been, No more they come-no more,
I close my eyes; O once that face,
But once again to see!
It comes; how cold! no-not a trace
Of all that used to be!
O weary day! O wakeful night!
That vanish'd face restore !
Gone-gone for ever from my sight,
No more it comes-no more,
Lizzie,
O Lizzie, never more!
PRITHEE WHAT HATH SNARED THEE,
PRITHEE What hath snared thee, Heart?
Is it, say, a honeyed lip
O'er whose coral bloom thy thought,
Bee-like hovering, hath been caught,
And, but loitering there to sip,
From its sweetness could not part?
Prithee what hath snared thee, Heart?
What hath caught thee, Fancy mine?
Is it, say, a laughing eye,
The fair heaven of whose blue
Idly thou went'st wandering through,
Till thou, silly butterfly,
Could'st not quit its charm'd sunshine?
What hath caught thee, Fancy mine?
What hath witch'd thee, sober Thought!
Say, was it a diamond wit
That, as thou wast straying near,
With its spells so took thine ear,
That thou could'st not fly from it,
All in strange enchantment caught?
What hath witch'd thee, sober Thought?
No, though lip and wit, awhile,
And the glory of an eye,
You, perchance, had captive held,
Soon their charms you back had spell'd,
Soon their witchery learn'd to fly;
Prisoners to her smile ye be;
What from that shall set you free?
O WEARY THOUGHTS, BE STILL!
O WEARY, weary thoughts, be still!
O life-why should life be
A thing for only vain regrets
And bitterness to me!
For love to give or to withhold,
Is all our power above;
O fate, why did we ever meet!
Why ever did we love!
If love were sin, to sin or not
Was all beyond our will.
Alas, why should my life be grief?
O weary thoughts, be still!
A hard, hard lot, I know is mine
Of work and want and scorn;
And yet with what a gladness all
With him I could have borne ?
With him, what fate had I not shared,
Content, that life had given !
With him, with what of pain and want
Had I not tearless striven !
O why should love, so blessing some,
My days with misery fill !
Alas, why should I long to die!
O weary thoughts, be still!
Who say, not all the wealth of earth
Can happiness impart ?
Alas, how little do they know
How want can break a heart!
How want has stood 'twixt sunder'd lives,
Lives parted through the shame,
That station, wedding poverty,
Had link'd unto its name.
O God, what different life were mine
If it had been thy will
My lot with his had equal been !
O weary thoughts, be still!
O WEARY THOUGHTS, BE STILL!
Another with his love is bless'd;
I am another's now;
Between us yawns for evermore
A double holy vow;
But years must deeper changes bring
Than change of state or name,
Ere, early love and thoughts forgot,
Our hearts are not the same.
Alas, the feelings of the past
Our lives must ever fill!
O would-O would I could forget!
O weary thoughts, be still!
I know I know, to think of him
As once I thought is sin,
But all in vain I strive my mind
From its old thoughts to win;
His treasured words-his low fond tones
My eyes with tears will dim;
My thoughts by day-my dreams by night,
Will fill themselves with him;
And what we were, and what we are,
Comes back, do all I will.
Alas, why did I ever live?
O weary thoughts, be still!
There's love within my husband's looks
That I with joy should see;
Alas, it brings another face
That once looked love on me!
And tears will even dim my gaze
Upon my baby's face,
As not a look I see it wear
That there I'd thought to trace.
O why should thus the joys of life
With grief mine only fill!
Alas, why did I ever live!
O weary thoughts, be still!
O men! O men! God never will'd
That lives, that nature meant
To bless each other's days, by you
Asunder should be rent.
A deadly sin he surely holds
The worldly thoughts that part, For chance of birth or chance of wealth, A heart from any heart.
World, world, thou crossest God, his earth
With broken hearts to fill.
Alas, how blest might ours have been !
O weary thoughts, be still!
This is Earth's great holiday;
Who can labour while the hours
In with songs are bringing May
Through the gaze of buds and flowers,
Through the golden pomp of day?
Haste, O haste!
"Tis sin to waste
In dull work so sweet a time,
Dance and song
Of right belong
To the hours of Spring's sweet prime.
Golden beams and shadows brown,
Where the roofs of knotted trees
Fling a pleasant coolness down,
Footing it, the young May sees;
In their dance the breezes now
Dimple every pond you pass;
Shades of leaves, from every bough
Leaping, beat the dappled grass.
Birds are noisy-bees are humming,
All because the May's a coming;
All the tongues of nature shout-
Out from towns, from cities out!
Out from every busy street!
Out from every darken'd court!
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