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The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell Part 5

The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell - LightNovelsOnl.com

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ROSALINE

Thou look'dst on me all yesternight, Thine eyes were blue, thy hair was bright As when we murmured our troth-plight Beneath the thick stars, Rosaline!

Thy hair was braided on thy head, As on the day we two were wed, Mine eyes scarce knew if thou wert dead, But my shrunk heart knew, Rosaline!

The death-watch ticked behind the wall, The blackness rustled like a pall, 10 The moaning wind did rise and fall Among the bleak pines, Rosaline!

My heart beat thickly in mine ears: The lids may shut out fleshly fears, But still the spirit sees and hears.

Its eyes are lidless, Rosaline!

A wildness rus.h.i.+ng suddenly, A knowing some ill shape is nigh, A wish for death, a fear to die, Is not this vengeance, Rosaline? 20 A loneliness that is not lone, A love quite withered up and gone, A strong soul ousted from its throne, What wouldst thou further, Rosaline?

'Tis drear such moonless nights as these, Strange sounds are out upon the breeze, And the leaves s.h.i.+ver in the trees, And then thou comest, Rosaline!

I seem to hear the mourners go, With long black garments trailing slow, 30 And plumes anodding to and fro, As once I heard them, Rosaline!

Thy shroud is all of snowy white, And, in the middle of the night, Thou standest moveless and upright, Gazing upon me, Rosaline!

There is no sorrow in thine eyes, But evermore that meek surprise,-- O G.o.d! thy gentle spirit tries To deem me guiltless, Rosaline! 40

Above thy grave the robin sings, And swarms of bright and happy things Flit all about with sunlit wings, But I am cheerless, Rosaline!

The violets in the hillock toss, The gravestone is o'ergrown with moss; For nature feels not any loss, But I am cheerless, Rosaline!

I did not know when thou wast dead; A blackbird whistling overhead 50 Thrilled through my brain; I would have fled, But dared not leave thee, Rosaline!

The sun rolled down, and very soon, Like a great fire, the awful moon Rose, stained with blood, and then a swoon Crept chilly o'er me, Rosaline!

The stars came out; and, one by one, Each angel from his silver throne Looked down and saw what I had done: I dared not hide me, Rosaline! 60 I crouched; I feared thy corpse would cry Against me to G.o.d's silent sky, I thought I saw the blue lips try To utter something, Rosaline!

I waited with a maddened grin To hear that voice all icy thin Slide forth and tell my deadly sin To h.e.l.l and heaven, Rosaline!

But no voice came, and then it seemed, That, if the very corpse had screamed, 70 The sound like suns.h.i.+ne glad had streamed Through that dark stillness, Rosaline!

And then, amid the silent night, I screamed with horrible delight, And in my brain an awful light Did seem to crackle, Rosaline!

It is my curse! sweet memories fall From me like snow, and only all Of that one night, like cold worms, crawl My doomed heart over, Rosaline! 80

Why wilt thou haunt me with thine eyes, Wherein such blessed memories, Such pitying forgiveness lies, Than hate more bitter, Rosaline!

Woe's me! I know that love so high As thine, true soul, could never die, And with mean clay in churchyard lie,-- Would it might be so, Rosaline!

A REQUIEM

Ay, pale and silent maiden, Cold as thou liest there, Thine was the sunniest nature That ever drew the air; The wildest and most wayward, And yet so gently kind, Thou seemedst but to body A breath of summer wind.

Into the eternal shadow That girds our life around, Into the infinite silence Wherewith Death's sh.o.r.e is bound, Thou hast gone forth, beloved!

And I were mean to weep, That thou hast left Life's shallows And dost possess the Deep.

Thou liest low and silent, Thy heart is cold and still.

Thine eyes are shut forever, And Death hath had his will; He loved and would have taken; I loved and would have kept.

We strove,--and he was stronger, And I have never wept.

Let him possess thy body, Thy soul is still with me, More sunny and more gladsome Than it was wont to be: Thy body was a fetter That bound me to the flesh, Thank G.o.d that it is broken, And now I live afres.h.!.+

Now I can see thee clearly; The dusky cloud of clay, That hid thy starry spirit, Is rent and blown away: To earth I give thy body, Thy spirit to the sky, I saw its bright wings growing, And knew that thou must fly.

Now I can love thee truly, For nothing comes between The senses and the spirit, The seen and the unseen; Lifts the eternal shadow, The silence bursts apart, And the soul's boundless future Is present in my heart.

A PARABLE

Worn and footsore was the Prophet, When he gained the holy hill; 'G.o.d has left the earth,' he murmured, 'Here his presence lingers still.

'G.o.d of all the olden prophets, Wilt thou speak with men no more?

Have I not as truly served thee As thy chosen ones of yore?

'Hear me, guider of my fathers, Lo! a humble heart is mine; By thy mercy I beseech thee Grant thy servant but a sign!'

Bowing then his head, he listened For an answer to his prayer; No loud burst of thunder followed, Not a murmur stirred the air:

But the tuft of moss before him Opened while he waited yet, And, from out the rock's hard bosom, Sprang a tender violet.

'G.o.d! I thank thee,' said the Prophet; 'Hard of heart and blind was I, Looking to the holy mountain For the gift of prophecy.

'Still thou speakest with thy children Freely as in eld sublime; Humbleness, and love, and patience, Still give empire over time.

'Had I trusted in my nature, And had faith in lowly things, Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me.

And set free my spirit's wings.

'But I looked for signs and wonders, That o'er men should give me sway; Thirsting to be more than mortal, I was even less than clay.

'Ere I entered on my journey, As I girt my loins to start, Ran to me my little daughter, The beloved of my heart;

'In her hand she held a flower, Like to this as like may be, Which, beside my very threshold, She had plucked and brought to me.'

SONG

O moonlight deep and tender, A year and more agone, Your mist of golden splendor Round my betrothal shone!

O elm-leaves dark and dewy, The very same ye seem, The low wind trembles through ye, Ye murmur in my dream!

O river, dim with distance, Flow thus forever by, A part of my existence Within your heart doth lie!

O stars, ye saw our meeting, Two beings and one soul, Two hearts so madly beating To mingle and be whole!

O happy night, deliver Her kisses back to me, Or keep them all, and give her A blisslul dream of me!

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