Pike County Ballads and Other Poems Part 7

In the dream of the Northern poets, The braves who in battle die Fight on in shadowy phalanx In the field of the upper sky; And as we read the sounding rhyme, The reverent fancy hears The ghostly ring of the viewless swords And the clash of the spectral spears.

We think with imperious questionings Of the brothers whom we have lost, And we strive to track in death's mystery The flight of each valiant ghost.

The Northern myth comes back to us, And we feel, through our sorrow's night, That those young souls are striving still Somewhere for the truth and light.

It was not their time for rest and sleep; Their hearts beat high and strong; In their fresh veins the blood of youth Was singing its hot, sweet song.

The open heaven bent over them, 'Mid flowers their lithe feet trod, Their lives lay vivid in light, and blest By the smiles of women and G.o.d.

Again they come! Again I hear The tread of that goodly band; I know the flash of Ellsworth's eye And the grasp of his hard, warm hand; And Putnam, and Shaw, of the lion-heart, And an eye like a Boston girl's; And I see the light of heaven which lay On Ulric Dahlgren's curls.

There is no power in the gloom of h.e.l.l To quench those spirits' fire; There is no power in the bliss of heaven To bid them not aspire; But somewhere in the eternal plan That strength, that life survive, And like the files on Lookout's crest, Above death's clouds they strive.

A chosen corps, they are marching on In a wider field than ours; Those bright battalions still fulfil The scheme of the heavenly powers; And high brave thoughts float down to us, The echoes of that far fight, Like the flash of a distant picket's gun Through the shades of the severing night.

No fear for them! In our lower field Let us keep our arms unstained, That at last we be worthy to stand with them On the s.h.i.+ning heights they've gained.

We shall meet and greet in closing ranks In Time's declining sun, When the bugles of G.o.d shall sound recall And the battle of life be won.

LOVE'S PRAYER.

If Heaven would hear my prayer, My dearest wish would be, Thy sorrows not to share, But take them all on me; If Heaven would hear my prayer.

I'd beg with prayers and sighs That never a tear might flow From out thy lovely eyes, If Heaven might grant it so; Mine be the tears and sighs.

No cloud thy brow should cover, But smiles each other chase From lips to eyes all over Thy sweet and sunny face; The clouds my heart should cover.

That all thy path be light Let darkness fall on me; If all thy days be bright, Mine black as night could be.

My love would light my night.

For thou art more than life, And if our fate should set Life and my love at strife, How could I then forget I love thee more than life?

CHRISTINE.

The beauty of the Northern dawns, Their pure, pale light is thine; Yet all the dreams of tropic nights Within thy blue eyes s.h.i.+ne.

Not statelier in their prisoning seas The icebergs grandly move, But in thy smile is youth and joy, And in thy voice is love.

Thou art like Hecla's crest that stands So lonely, proud, and high, No earthly thing may come between Her summit and the sky.

The sun in vain may strive to melt Her crown of virgin snow-- But the great heart of the mountain glows With deathless fire below.

EXPECTATION.

Roll on, O s.h.i.+ning sun, To the far seas!

Bring down, ye shades of eve, The soft, salt breeze!

s.h.i.+ne out, O stars, and light My darling's pathway bright, As through the summer night She comes to me.

No beam of any star Can match her eyes; Her smile the bursting day In light outvies.

Her voice--the sweetest thing Heard by the raptured spring When waking wild-woods ring-- She comes to me.

Ye stars, more swiftly wheel O'er earth's still breast; More wildly plunge and reel In the dim west!

The earth is lone and lorn, Till the glad day be born, Till with the happy morn She comes to me.

TO FLORA.

When April woke the drowsy flowers, And vagrant odours thronged the breeze, And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, And daisies flashed along the leas, And faint arbutus strove among Dead winter's leaf-strewn wreck to rise, And nature's sweetly jubilant song Went murmuring up the sunny skies, Into this cheerful world you came, And gained by right your vernal name.

I think the springs have changed of late, For "Arctics" are my daily wear, The skies are turned to cold grey slate, And zephyrs are but draughts of air; But you make up whate'er we lack, When we, too rarely, come together, More potent than the almanac, You bring the ideal April weather; When you are with us we defy The bl.u.s.tering air, the lowering sky; In spite of winter's icy darts, We've spring and suns.h.i.+ne in our hearts.

In fine, upon this April day, This deep conundrum I will bring: Tell me the two good reasons, pray, I have, to say you are like spring?

[You give it up?] Because we love you-- And see so very little of you.

A HAUNTED ROOM.

In the dim chamber whence but yesterday Pa.s.sed my beloved, filled with awe I stand; And haunting Loves fluttering on every hand Whisper her praises who is far away.

A thousand delicate fancies glance and play On every object which her robes have fanned, And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand In the sweet memory of her beauty's ray.

Ah! could that gla.s.s but hold the faintest trace Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, The cl.u.s.tering glory of the shadowy hair That framed so well the dear young angel face!

But no, it shows my own face, full of care, And my heart is her beauty's dwelling place.

DREAMS.

I love a woman tenderly, But cannot know if she loves me.

I press her hand, her lips I kiss, But still love's full a.s.surance miss.

Our waking life for ever seems Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams.

But love and night and sleep combine In dreams to make her wholly mine.

A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, Her hands and lips are warm and true.

Always the fact unreal seems, And truth I find alone in dreams.