The Poems of Emma Lazarus Volume I Part 20

Yet now how listless and how still she lies, Like some half-savage, dusky Indian queen, Rocked in her hammock 'neath her native skies, With the pathetic, pa.s.sive, broken mien Of one who, sorely proved, Great-souled, hath suffered much and much hath loved!

But look! along the wide-branched, dewy glade Glimmers the dawn: the light palmetto-trees And cypresses reissue from the shade, And SHE hath wakened. Through clear air she sees The pledge, the brightening ray, And leaps from dreams to hail the coming day.

SPRING STAR.

I.

Over the lamp-lit street, Trodden by hurrying feet, Where mostly pulse and beat Life's throbbing veins, See where the April star, Blue-bright as sapphires are, Hangs in deep heavens far, Waxes and wanes.

Strangely alive it seems, Darting keen, dazzling gleams, Veiling anon its beams, Large, clear, and pure.

In the broad western sky No orb may s.h.i.+ne anigh, No lesser radiancy May there endure.

Spring airs are blowing sweet: Low in the dusky street Star-beams and eye-beams meet.

Rapt in his dreams, All through the crowded mart Poet with swift-stirred heart, Pa.s.sing beneath, must start, Thrilled by those gleams.

Naught doth he note anear, Fain through Night's veil to peer, Reach that resplendent sphere, Reading her sign.

Where point those sharp, thin rays, Guiding his weary maze, Blesseth she or betrays, Who may divine?

"Guard me, celestial light, Lofty, serenely bright: Lead my halt feet aright,"

Prayerful he speaks.

"For a new ray hath shone Over my spirit lone.

Be this new soul the one whom my soul seeks."

II.

Beside her cas.e.m.e.nt oped the maiden sits, Where the mild evening spirit of the Spring Gently between the city's homesteads flits To kiss her brows, and floats on languid wing, Vague longings in her breast awakening.

While her heart trembles 'neath those dim, deep skies, As the quick sea that 'neath the globed moon lies.

Where her eyes rest the full-orbed evening star Burns with white flame: it beckons, shrinks, dilates.

She, dazzled by that s.h.i.+ning world afar, May not withdraw her gaze: breathless she waits.

Some promised joy from Heaven's very gates Unto her soul seems proffered. When shall be The bright fulfilment of that star's decree?

Nor glad nor sad is she: she doth not know That through the city's throng one threads his way, Thrilled likewise by that planet's mystic glow, And hastes to seek her. What sweet change shall sway Her spirit at his coming? What new ray Upon his shadowy life from her shall fall?

The silent star burns on, and knoweth all.

A JUNE NIGHT.

Ten o'clock: the broken moon Hangs not yet a half hour high, Yellow as a s.h.i.+eld of bra.s.s, In the dewy air of June, Poised between the vaulted sky And the ocean's liquid gla.s.s.

Earth lies in the shadow still; Low black bushes, trees, and lawn Night's ambrosial dews absorb; Through the foliage creeps a thrill, Whispering of yon spectral dawn And the hidden climbing orb.

Higher, higher, gathering light, Veiling with a golden gauze All the trembling atmosphere, See, the rayless disk grows white!

Hark, the glittering billows pause!

Faint, far sounds possess the ear.

Elves on such a night as this Spin their rings upon the gra.s.s; On the beach the water-fay Greets her lover with a kiss; Through the air swift spirits pa.s.s, Laugh, caress, and float away.

Shut thy lids and thou shalt see Angel faces wreathed with light, Mystic forms long vanished hence.

Ah, too fine, too rare, they be For the grosser mortal sight, And they foil our waking sense.

Yet we feel them floating near, Know that we are not alone, Though our open eyes behold Nothing save the moon's bright sphere, In the vacant heavens shown, And the ocean's path of gold.

MAGNETISM.

By the impulse of my will, By the red flame in my blood, By me nerves' electric thrill, By the pa.s.sion of my mood, My concentrated desire, My undying, desperate love, I ignore Fate, I defy her, Iron-hearted Death I move.

When the town lies numb with sleep, Here, round-eyed I sit; my breath Quickly stirred, my flesh a-creep, And I force the gates of death.

I nor move nor speak--you'd deem From my quiet face and hands, I were tranced--but in her dream, SHE responds, she understands.

I have power on what is not, Or on what has ceased to be, From that deep, earth-hollowed spot, I can lift her up to me.

And, or ere I am aware Through the closed and curtained door, Comes my lady white and fair, And embraces me once more.

Though the clay clings to her gown, Yet all heaven is in her eyes; Cool, kind fingers press mine eyes, To my soul her soul replies.

But when breaks the common dawn, And the city wakes--behold!

My shy phantom is withdrawn, And I s.h.i.+ver lone and cold.

And I know when she has left, She is stronger far than I, And more subtly spun her weft, Than my human wizardry.

Though I force her to my will, By the red flame in my blood, By my nerves' electric thrill, By the pa.s.sion of my mood, Yet all day a ghost am I.

Nerves unstrung, spent will, dull brain.

I achieve, attain, but die, And she claims me hers again.