Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell Part 17

That even the wicked shall at last Be fitted for the skies; And when their dreadful doom is past, To life and light arise.

I ask not, how remote the day, Nor what the sinners' woe, Before their dross is purged away; Enough for me to know--

That when the clip of wrath is drained, The metal purified, They'll cling to what they once disdained, And live by Him that died.

PAST DAYS.

'Tis strange to think there WAS a time When mirth was not an empty name, When laughter really cheered the heart, And frequent smiles unbidden came, And tears of grief would only flow In sympathy for others' woe;

When speech expressed the inward thought, And heart to kindred heart was bare, And summer days were far too short For all the pleasures crowded there; And silence, solitude, and rest, Now welcome to the weary breast--

Were all unprized, uncourted then-- And all the joy one spirit showed, The other deeply felt again; And friendship like a river flowed, Constant and strong its silent course, For nought withstood its gentle force:

When night, the holy time of peace, Was dreaded as the parting hour; When speech and mirth at once must cease, And silence must resume her power; Though ever free from pains and woes, She only brought us calm repose.

And when the blessed dawn again Brought daylight to the blushing skies, We woke, and not RELUCTANT then, To joyless LABOUR did we rise; But full of hope, and glad and gay, We welcomed the returning day.

THE CONSOLATION.

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground With fallen leaves so thickly strown, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan;

There IS a friendly roof, I know, Might shield me from the wintry blast; There is a fire, whose ruddy glow Will cheer me for my wanderings past.

And so, though still, where'er I go, Cold stranger-glances meet my eye; Though, when my spirit sinks in woe, Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh;

Though solitude, endured too long, Bids youthful joys too soon decay, Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue, And overclouds my noon of day;

When kindly thoughts that would have way, Flow back discouraged to my breast; I know there is, though far away, A home where heart and soul may rest.

Warm hands are there, that, clasped in mine, The warmer heart will not belie; While mirth, and truth, and friendship shine In smiling lip and earnest eye.

The ice that gathers round my heart May there be thawed; and sweetly, then, The joys of youth, that now depart, Will come to cheer my soul again.

Though far I roam, that thought shall be My hope, my comfort, everywhere; While such a home remains to me, My heart shall never know despair!

LINES COMPOSED IN A WOOD ON A WINDY DAY.

My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze; For above and around me the wild wind is roaring, Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.

The long withered gra.s.s in the sunshine is glancing, The bare trees are tossing their branches on high; The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing, The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky

I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray; I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing, And hear the wild roar of their thunder to-day!

VIEWS OF LIFE.

When sinks my heart in hopeless gloom, And life can show no joy for me; And I behold a yawning tomb, Where bowers and palaces should be;

In vain you talk of morbid dreams; In vain you gaily smiling say, That what to me so dreary seems, The healthy mind deems bright and gay.

I too have smiled, and thought like you, But madly smiled, and falsely deemed: TRUTH led me to the present view,-- I'm waking now--'twas THEN I dreamed.

I lately saw a sunset sky, And stood enraptured to behold Its varied hues of glorious dye: First, fleecy clouds of shining gold;

These blushing took a rosy hue; Beneath them shone a flood of green; Nor less divine, the glorious blue That smiled above them and between.

I cannot name each lovely shade; I cannot say how bright they shone; But one by one, I saw them fade; And what remained when they were gone?

Dull clouds remained, of sombre hue, And when their borrowed charm was o'er, The azure sky had faded too, That smiled so softly bright before.

So, gilded by the glow of youth, Our varied life looks fair and gay; And so remains the naked truth, When that false light is past away.

Why blame ye, then, my keener sight, That clearly sees a world of woes Through all the haze of golden light That flattering Falsehood round it throws?

When the young mother smiles above The first-born darling of her heart, Her bosom glows with earnest love, While tears of silent transport start.

Fond dreamer! little does she know The anxious toil, the suffering, The blasted hopes, the burning woe, The object of her joy will bring.

Her blinded eyes behold not now What, soon or late, must be his doom; The anguish that will cloud his brow, The bed of death, the dreary tomb.

As little know the youthful pair, In mutual love supremely blest, What weariness, and cold despair, Ere long, will seize the aching breast.

And even should Love and Faith remain, (The greatest blessings life can show,) Amid adversity and pain, To shine throughout with cheering glow;

They do not see how cruel Death Comes on, their loving hearts to part: One feels not now the gasping breath, The rending of the earth-bound heart,--

The soul's and body's agony, Ere she may sink to her repose.

The sad survivor cannot see The grave above his darling close;

Nor how, despairing and alone, He then must wear his life away; And linger, feebly toiling on, And fainting, sink into decay.

Oh, Youth may listen patiently, While sad Experience tells her tale, But Doubt sits smiling in his eye, For ardent Hope will still prevail!

He hears how feeble Pleasure dies, By guilt destroyed, and pain and woe; He turns to Hope--and she replies, "Believe it not-it is not so!"