Poems by Marietta Holley Part 7

HIS PLACE.

So all things come to our mind at last, He is close by your side in the twilight gloom, And you two are alone in the dim old room, Yet he is mute, as you bade him be, time past.

You bade him to weary you, never again With his idle love, in truth he was wise, For he spake no more, although in his eyes You read, you fancied, a language of pain.

But this is past, and vex you he never will, With loving glance, or look of sad reproach; His lips move not, smile not at your approach; The flowers he clasps are not more calm and still.

Your favorite flowers he has heard you praise, Purple pansies, and lilies creamy white; But he offers them not to you to-night, He troubles you not, he has learned "his place."

You wished to teach him that lesson, you told Him as much, you know, in this very room, 'Twas about this hour, for the twilight gloom As now, was enwrapping you, fold on fold.

Was "his place" in the haunts of the herded poor, Where the pestilence stalked with deadly breath?

Face to face with its dreadful shadow, death, How he wrestled with it from door to door,

Giving his life that others life might find, Shaming you with his toil, his bravery, Not by a word or look, no boaster he, He was always gentle to you, and kind.

He has found "his place," but no need of fears, No; you need not summon your jealous pride, For "his place" will never be by your side, Nevermore, nevermore, through all the years.

And when from Time shall drop Earth's days Like chaff from the bloom of the year sublime, With the gentle spirits of every time, And the martyr souls, he will find his place.

So answers will come to our seeking wills, Nevermore will his sad face vex your sight, For you never will make your robes so white As to stand by him on the heavenly hills.

Yes, lay your cheek upon his, and press The cl.u.s.tering hair from his broad white brow, Have no fear, he will not annoy you now By a word in praise of your loveliness.

Yes, kneel by him, moaning, kissing his brow, Not now will it grieve him, your tears' swift rain, And he will not ask you to share your pain; Ah! Once he would, but not now--not now.

So leave the old room in the waning light, Go out in your peerless beauty and pride, And let no shadow go out by your side To follow you under the falling night.

A DREAM OF SPRING.

The world is asleep! All hushed is Nature's warm, sweet breath.

The world is asleep, and dreaming the silent dream of snow, But through the silence that seems like the silence of death, Under their shroud of ermine, the souls of the roses glow.

And forever the heart of the water throbs and beats, Though bound by a million gleaming fetters and crystal rings, No sound on lonesome mornings the lonely watcher greets, But the frosty pane is impressed with the shadow of coming wings.

WAITING.

I know not where you wait for me in all your maiden sweetness, Sweet soul in whom my life will find its rest, its full completeness; But somewhere you await me, Fate will lead us to each other, As roses know the sunlight, so shall we know one another.

Dear heart, what are you doing in this twilight's purple splendor, Do you tend your dewy flowers with fingers white and slender, Heavy, odor-laden branches in blessing bent above you, Fond lilies kneeling at your feet, winds murmuring they love you?

Mayhap, your heart in maiden peace is like a closed bud sleeping, Wrapped in pure folds of saintly thought, its tender freshness keeping.

Yet like a dream that comes in sleep, your soul sweet quiet breaking, Is a thought of me, my darling, that shall come true on waking.

Perchance you turn from pa.s.sionate vows, words wild with love's sweet madness, With soft eyes looking far sway, in yearning trust and sadness; A look that tells his alien soul how widely you are parted, Though he knows not whom your rapt eyes seek, my sweet, my loving-hearted.

Oh, the world is rough; the heart against its sneers, its cold derision, Locks all its better feelings, making it a gloomy prison; But your hand, my angel, shall unlock its rocky, dust-strewn portal, Your smile shall rouse its dying dreams of good to life immortal.

You will make me better, purer, for love, the true refiner, Burning out the baser pa.s.sions, will kindle the diviner, Will plead and wind my spirit, not to shame its heavenly station, You will trust me, and that trust will prove my tempted soul's salvation.

G.o.d keep you tenderly, my life's dear hope and unseen blessing; Oh, night wind, touch her tresses till I come with fond caressing, Thy crown of pearl-linked light, oh, royal moon stoop down and give her, Till queen of love's own kingdom, I crown her mine forever.

A SONG FOR TWILIGHT.

Oh! the day was dark and dreary, For clouds swept o'er the sun, The burden of life seemed heavy, And its warfare never done; But I heard a voice at twilight, It whispered in my ear, "Oh, doubting heart, look upward, Dear soul, be of good cheer.

Oh, weary heart, look upward, Dear soul, be of good cheer."

And lo! on looking upward The stars lit up the sky Like the lights of an endless city, A city set on high.

And my heart forgot its sorrow These heavenly homes to see-- Sure in those many mansions Is room for even me, Sure in those many mansions, Is room for thee and me.

THE FLIGHT.

Here in the silent doorway let me linger One moment, for the porch is still and lonely; That shadow's but the rose vine in the moonlight; All are asleep in peace, I waken only, And he I wait, by my own heart's beating I know how slow to him the tide creeps by, Nor life, nor death, could bar our hearts from meeting; Were worlds between, his soul to mine would fly.

Oh, shame! to think a heap of paltry metal Should overbalance manhood's n.o.blest graces; A film of gold had gilt his worth and honor, Warming to smiles the coldness of their faces; Gentle to me, they rise in condemnation, And plead with me than words more powerfully.

Oh! well I love them--but they have wealth and station To fill their hearts, and he has only me.

But oh, my roses, how their great pure faces Beseech me as they bend from sculptured column.

So with my wet cheek closely pressed against them, I listen to their pleadings sweet and solemn.

Oh, Memory, if an hour of gloom and grieving I here have known, that hour before me set; But all the peace and joy I am leaving, In mercy, Memory, let me forget.

Oh, home! if here a frown has ever chilled me, Let it now rise and darken on my sight.

If a harsh word or look has ever grieved me, Let me remember that harsh word to-night.

But all the tender words, the fond caressing, The loving smiles that daily I have met, The patient mother love, G.o.d's crowning blessing, In mercy, Memory, let me forget.

Here she has kissed me with fond looks of greeting; Will that smile fade when waiting me no longer?

Oh, true first love, tender and changing never; But there's a love that nearer is and stronger-- He comes! I kneel and kiss the stone, oh, mother, Where you have stood and blessed me with your eyes; Forgive--forgive me, mother--father--brother-- For oh, he loves me--and love sanctifies.

COMFORT.

Once through an autumn wood I roamed in tearful mood, By grief dismayed, doubting, and ill at ease; When from a leafless oak, Methought low murmurs broke, Complaining accents, as of words like these: