The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell Part 6

SONNETS

I

TO A.C.L.

Through suffering and sorrow thou hast pa.s.sed To show us what a woman true may be: They have not taken sympathy from thee, Nor made thee any other than thou wast, Save as some tree, which, in a sudden blast, Sheddeth those blossoms, that are weakly grown, Upon the air, but keepeth every one Whose strength gives warrant of good fruit at last: So thou hast shed some blooms of gayety, But never one of steadfast cheerfulness; Nor hath thy knowledge of adversity Robbed thee of any faith in happiness, But rather cleared thine inner eyes to see How many simple ways there are to bless.

II

What were I, Love, if I were stripped of thee, If thine eyes shut me out whereby I live.

Thou, who unto my calmer soul dost give Knowledge, and Truth, and holy Mystery, Wherein Truth mainly lies for those who see Beyond the earthly and the fugitive, Who in the grandeur of the soul believe, And only in the Infinite are free?

Without thee I were naked, bleak, and bare As yon dead cedar on the sea-cliff's brow; And Nature's teachings, which come to me now, Common and beautiful as light and air, Would be as fruitless as a stream which still Slips through the wheel of some old ruined mill.

III

I would not have this perfect love of ours Grow from a single root, a single stem, Bearing no goodly fruit, but only flowers That idly hide life's iron diadem: It should grow alway like that Eastern tree Whose limbs take root and spread forth constantly; That love for one, from which there doth not spring Wide love for all, is but a worthless thing.

Not in another world, as poets prate, Dwell we apart above the tide of things, High floating o'er earth's clouds on faery wings; But our pure love doth ever elevate Into a holy bond of brotherhood All earthly things, making them pure and good.

IV

'For this true n.o.bleness I seek in vain, In woman and in man I find it not; I almost weary of my earthly lot, My life-springs are dried up with burning pain.'

Thou find'st it not? I pray thee look again, Look _inward_ through the depths of thine own soul.

How is it with thee? Art thou sound and whole?

Doth narrow search show thee no earthly stain?

BE n.o.bLE! and the n.o.bleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own; Then wilt thou see it gleam in many eyes, Then will pure light around thy path be shed, And thou wilt nevermore be sad and lone.

V

TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATS

Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room, Uplifting me with thy vast, quiet eyes, On whose full orbs, with kindly l.u.s.tre, lies The twilight warmth of ruddy ember-gloom: Thy clear, strong tones will oft bring sudden bloom Of hope secure, to him who lonely cries, Wrestling with the young poet's agonies, Neglect and scorn, which seem a certain doom: Yes! the few words which, like great thunder-drops, Thy large heart down to earth shook doubtfully, Thrilled by the inward lightning of its might, Serene and pure, like gushing joy of light, Shall track the eternal chords of Destiny, After the moon-led pulse of ocean stops.

VI

Great Truths are portions of the soul of man; Great souls are portions of Eternity; Each drop of blood that e'er through true heart ran With lofty message, ran for thee and me; For G.o.d's law, since the starry song began, Hath been, and still forevermore must be, That every deed which shall outlast Time's span Must spur the soul to be erect and free; Slave is no word of deathless lineage sprung; Too many n.o.ble souls have thought and died, Too many mighty poets lived and sung, And our good Saxon, from lips purified With martyr-fire, throughout the world hath rung Too long to have G.o.d's holy cause denied.

VII

I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap From being's sea, like the isle-seeming Kraken, With whose great rise the ocean all is shaken And a heart-tremble quivers through the deep; Give me that growth which some perchance deem sleep, Wherewith the steadfast coral-stems uprise, Which, by the toil of gathering energies, Their upward way into clear sunshine keep, Until, by Heaven's sweetest influences, Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of green Into a pleasant island in the seas, Where, mid fall palms, the cane-roofed home is seen, And wearied men shall sit at sunset's hour, Hearing the leaves and loving G.o.d's dear power.

VIII

TO M.W., ON HER BIRTHDAY

Maiden, when such a soul as thine is born, The morning-stars their ancient music make, And, joyful, once again their song awake, Long silent now with melancholy scorn; And thou, not mindless of so blest a morn, By no least deed its harmony shalt break, But shalt to that high chime thy footsteps take, Through life's most darksome pa.s.ses unforlorn; Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall, Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free, And in thine every motion musical As summer air, majestic as the sea, A mystery to those who creep and crawl Through Time, and part it from Eternity.

IX

My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die; Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss, While Time and Peace with hands enlocked fly; Yet care I not where in Eternity We live and love, well knowing that there is No backward step for those who feel the bliss Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high: Love hath so purified my being's core, Meseems I scarcely should be startled even, To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before; Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was given, Which each calm day doth strengthen more and more, That they who love are but one step from Heaven.

X

I cannot think that thou shouldst pa.s.s away, Whose life to mine is an eternal law, A piece of nature that can have no flaw, A new and certain sunrise every day: But, if thou art to be another ray About the Sun of Life, and art to live Free from what part of thee was fugitive, The debt of Love I will more fully pay, Not downcast with the thought of thee so high, But rather raised to be a n.o.bler man, And more divine in my humanity, As knowing that the waiting eyes which scan My life are lighted by a purer being, And ask high, calm-browed deeds, with it agreeing.

XI

There never yet was flower fair in vain, Let cla.s.sic poets rhyme it as they will; The seasons toil that it may blow again, And summer's heart doth feel its every ill; Nor is a true soul ever born for naught; Wherever any such hath lived and died, There hath been something for true freedom wrought, Some bulwark levelled on the evil side: Toil on, then, Greatness! thou art in the right, However narrow souls may call thee wrong; Be as thou wouldst be in thine own clear sight, And so thou shalt be in the world's erelong; For worldlings cannot, struggle as they may, From man's great soul one great thought hide away.

XII

SUB PONDERE CRESCIT

The hope of Truth grows stronger, day by day; I hear the soul of Man around me waking, Like a great sea, its frozen fetters breaking, And flinging up to heaven its sunlit spray, Tossing huge continents in scornful play, And crushing them, with din of grinding thunder, That makes old emptinesses stare in wonder; The memory of a glory pa.s.sed away Lingers in every heart, as, in the sh.e.l.l, Resounds the bygone freedom of the sea, And every hour new signs of promise tell, That the great soul shall once again be free, For high, and yet more high, the murmurs swell Of inward strife for truth and liberty.

XIII

Beloved, in the noisy city here, The thought of thee can make all turmoil cease; Around my spirit, folds thy spirit clear Its still, soft arms, and circles it with peace; There is no room for any doubt or fear In souls so overfilled with love's increase, There is no memory of the bygone year But growth in heart's and spirit's perfect ease: How hath our love, half nebulous at first, Rounded itself into a full-orbed sun!

How have our lives and wills (as haply erst They were, ere this forgetfulness begun) Through all their earthly distances outburst, And melted, like two rays of light in one!

XIV

ON READING WORDSWORTH'S SONNETS IN DEFENCE OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT

As the broad ocean endlessly upheaveth, With the majestic beating of his heart, The mighty tides, whereof its rightful part Each sea-wide bay and little weed receiveth.

So, through his soul who earnestly believeth, Life from the universal Heart doth flow, Whereby some conquest of the eternal Woe, By instinct of G.o.d's nature, he achieveth; A fuller pulse of this all-powerful beauty Into the poet's gulf-like heart doth tide, And he more keenly feels the glorious duty Of serving Truth, despised and crucified,-- Happy, unknowing sect or creed, to rest, And feel G.o.d flow forever through his breast.

XV

THE SAME CONTINUED

Once hardly in a cycle blossometh A flower-like soul ripe with the seeds of song, A spirit foreordained to cope with wrong, Whose divine thoughts are natural as breath, Who the old Darkness thickly scattereth With starry words, that shoot prevailing light Into the deeps, and wither, with the blight Of serene Truth, the coward heart of Death: Woe, if such spirit thwart its errand high, And mock with lies the longing soul of man!

Yet one age longer must true Culture lie, Soothing her bitter fetters as she can, Until new messages of love out-start At the next beating of the infinite Heart.