The Poems of Emma Lazarus Volume I Part 17

"Though blind, I still shall see, Though dead, shall feel your presence and shall know, I who was beauty's life-long slave, shall so Win her in death to me.

"Thanks, sisters, and farewell!

Back to your joys. My brother shall make room For my tried sword upon the high-piled bloom, And fire the pinnacle.

"My soul, pure flame, shall leap To meet its parent essence once again My body dust and ashes shall remain, Tired heart and brain shall sleep.

"Life has one gate alone, Obscure, beset with peril and fierce pain.

Large death has many portals to his fane, Why choose we to make moan?

"Why dwell with worms and clay When we may soar through air on wings of flame, Dissolve to small, white dust our perfect frame, And never know decay?

"A brother's pious hand The pure, fire-winnowed ashes shall inurn, And lay them in the orange grove where burn Globed suns that scent the land.

"The leaf shall be more green, Even for my dust--more snowy-soft the flower, More juicy-sweet the fruit's live pulp--the bower Richer that I have been.

"For I would not," he said, "Tears and the black pall and the wormy grave, Grief's hideous panoply I would not have Round me when I am dead."

OFF ROUGH POINT.

We sat at twilight nigh the sea, The fog hung gray and weird.

Through the thick film uncannily The broken moon appeared.

We heard the billows crack and plunge, We saw nor waves nor ships.

Earth sucked the vapors like a sponge, The salt spray wet our lips.

Closer the woof of white mist drew, Before, behind, beside.

How could that phantom moon break through, Above that shrouded tide?

The roaring waters filled the ear, A white blank foiled the sight.

Close-gathering shadows near, more near, Brought the blind, awful night.

O friends who pa.s.sed unseen, unknown!

O dashing, troubled sea!

Still stand we on a rock alone, Walled round by mystery.

MATER AMABILIS.

Down the goldenest of streams, Tide of dreams, The fair cradled man-child drifts; Sways with cadenced motion slow, To and fro, As the mother-foot poised lightly, falls and lifts.

He, the firstling,--he, the light Of her sight,-- He, the breathing pledge of love, 'Neath the holy pa.s.sion lies, Of her eyes,-- Smiles to feel the warm, life-giving ray above.

She believes that in his vision, Skies elysian O'er an angel-people shine.

Back to gardens of delight, Taking flight, His auroral spirit basks in dreams divine.

But she smiles through anxious tears; Unborn years Pressing forward, she perceives.

Shadowy m.u.f.fled shapes, they come Deaf and dumb, Bringing what? dry chaff and tares, or full-eared sheaves?

What for him shall she invoke?

Shall the oak Bind the man's triumphant brow?

Shall his daring foot alight On the height?

Shall he dwell amidst the humble and the low?

Through what tears and sweat and pain, Must he gain Fruitage from the tree of life?

Shall it yield him bitter flavor?

Shall its savor Be as manna midst the turmoil and the strife?

In his cradle slept and smiled Thus the child Who as Prince of Peace was hailed.

Thus anigh the mother breast, Lulled to rest, Child-Napoleon down the lilied river sailed.

Crowned or crucified--the same Glows the flame Of her deathless love divine.

Still the blessed mother stands, In all lands, As she watched beside thy cradle and by mine.

Whatso gifts the years bestow, Still men know, While she breathes, lives one who sees (Stand they pure or sin-defiled) But the child Whom she crooned to sleep and rocked upon her knee.

FOG.