Love Letters of a Violinist and Other Poems Part 32

[A] Steven, a voice; old word revived.

VI.

DIFFIDENCE.

I cannot deck my thought in proud attire, Or make it fit for thee in any dress, Or sing to thee the songs of thy desire, In summer's heat, or by the winter's fire, Or give thee cause to comfort or to bless.

For I have scann'd mine own unworthiness And well I know the weakness of the lyre Which I have striven to sway to thy caress.

Yet must I quell my tears and calm the smart Of my vext soul, and steadfastly emerge From lonesome thoughts, as from the tempest's surge.

I must control the beating of my heart, And bid false pride be gone, who, with his art, Has press'd, too long, a suit I dare not urge.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

VII.

FAIRIES.

Glory endures when calumny hath fled; And fairies show themselves, in friendly guise, To all who hold a trust beyond the dead, And all who pray, albeit so worldly-wise, With cheerful hearts or wildly-weeping eyes.

They come and go when children are in bed To gladden them with dreams from out the skies And sanctify all tears that they have shed!

Fairies are wing'd for wandering to and fro.

They live in legends; they survive the Greeks.

Wisdom is theirs; they live for us and grow, Like things ambrosial, fairer than the freaks Of signs and seasons which the poets know, Or fires of sunset on the mountain-peaks.

VIII.

SPIRIT LOVE.

How great my joy! How grand my recompense!

I bow to thee; I keep thee in my sight.

I call thee mine, in love though not in sense I share with thee the hermitage immense Of holy dreams which come to us at night, When, through the medium of the spirit-lens We see the soul, in its primeval light, And Reason spares the hopes it cannot blight.

It is the soul of thee, and not the form, And not the face, I yearn-to in my sleep.

It is thyself. The body is the storm, The soul the star beyond it in the deep Of Nature's calm. And yonder on the steep The Sun of Faith, quiescent, round, and warm!

IX.

AFTER TWO DAYS.

Another night has turned itself to day, Another day has melted into eve, And lo! again I tread the measured way Of word and thought, the twain to interweave, As flowers absorb the rays that they receive.

And, all along the woodland where I stray, I think of thee, and Nature keeps me gay, And sorrow soothes the soul it would bereave.

Nor will I fear that thou, so far apart, So dear to me, so fair, and so benign, Wilt un-desire the fealty of a heart Which evermore is pledg'd to thee and thine, And turns to thee, in regions where thou art, To hymn the praises of thy face divine!

X.

BYRON.

He was a G.o.d descended from the skies To fight the fight of Freedom o'er a grave, And consecrate a hope he could not save; For he was weak withal, and foolish-wise.

Dark were his thoughts, and strange his destinies, And oftentimes his life he did deprave.

But all do pity him, though none despise.

He was a prince of song, though sorrow's slave.

He ask'd for tears,--and they were tinged with fire; He ask'd for love, and love was sold to him.

He look'd for solace at the goblet's brim, And found it not; then wept upon his lyre.

He sang the songs of all the world's desire,-- He wears the wreath no rivalry can dim!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

XI.

LOVE'S AMBITION.

I must invoke thee for my spirit's good, And prove myself un-guilty of the crime Of mere self-seeking, though with this imbued.

I sing as sings the mavis in a wood, Content to be alive at harvest time.

Had I its wings I should not be withstood!

But I will weave my fancies into rhyme, And greet afar the heights I cannot climb.

I will invoke thee, Love! though far away, And pay thee homage, as becomes a knight Who longs to keep his true-love in his sight.

Yea, I will soar to thee, in roundelay, In s.h.i.+ne and shower, and make a bold a.s.say Of each fond hope, to compa.s.s thee aright.

XII.

LOVE'S DEFEAT.

Do what I will, I cannot chant so well As other men; and yet my soul is true.

My hopes are bold; my thoughts are hard to tell, But thou can'st read them, and accept them, too, Though, half-abash'd, they seem to hide from view.