Weeds by the Wall Part 9

Loss molds our lives in many ways, And fills our souls with guesses; Upon our hearts sad hands it lays Like some grave priest that blesses.

Far better than the love we win, That earthly pa.s.sions leaven, Is love we lose, that knows no sin, That points the path to Heaven.

Love, whose soft shadow brightens Earth, Through whom our dreams are nearest; And loss, through whom we see the worth Of all that we held dearest.

Not joy it is, but misery That chastens us, and sorrow;-- Perhaps to make us all that we Expect beyond To-morrow.

Within that life where time and fate Are not; that knows no seeming: That world to which death keeps the gate Where love and loss sit dreaming.

SUNSET CLOUDS.

Low clouds, the lightning veins and cleaves, Torn from the forest of the storm, Sweep westward like enormous leaves O'er field and farm.

And in the west, on burning skies, Their wrath is quenched, their hate is hushed, And deep their drifted thunder lies With splendor flushed.

The black turns gray, the gray turns gold; And, seaed in deeps of radiant rose, Summits of fire, manifold They now repose.

What dreams they bring! what thoughts reveal!

That have their source in loveliness, Through which the doubts I often feel Grow less and less.

Through which I see that other night, That cloud called Death, transformed of Love To flame, and pointing with its light To life above.

MASKED.

Lying alone I dreamed a dream last night: Methought that Joy had come to comfort me For all the past, its suffering and slight, Yet in my heart I felt this could not be.

All that he said unreal seemed and strange, Too beautiful to last beyond to-morrow; Then suddenly his features seemed to change,-- The mask of joy dropped from the face of Sorrow.

OUT OF THE DEPTHS.

I.

Let me forget her face!

So fresh, so lovely! the abiding place Of tears and smiles that won my heart to her; Of dreams and moods that moved my soul's dim deeps, As strong winds stir Dark waters where the starlight glimmering sleeps.-- In every lineament the mind can trace, Let me forget her face!

II.

Let me forget her form!

Soft and seductive, that contained each charm, Each grace the sweet word maidenhood implies; And all the sensuous youth of line and curve, That makes men's eyes Bondsmen of beauty eager still to serve.-- In every part that memory can warm, Let me forget her form!

III.

Let me forget her, G.o.d!

Her who made honeyed love a bitter rod To scourge my heart with, barren with despair; To tear my soul with, sick with vain desire!-- Oh, hear my prayer!

Out of the h.e.l.l of love's unquenchable fire I cry to thee, with face against the sod, Let me forget her, G.o.d!

RICHES.

What mines the morning heavens unfold!

What far Alaskas of the skies!

That, veined with elemental gold, Sierra on Sierra rise.

Heap up the gold of all the world, The ore that makes men fools and slaves; What is it to the gold, cloud-curled, That rivers through the sunset's caves!

Search Earth for riches all who will, The gold that soils, that turns to dust-- Be mine the wealth no thief can steal, The gold of G.o.d that can not rust.

BEAUTY AND ART.

The G.o.ds are dead; but still for me Lives on in wildwood brook and tree Each myth, each old divinity.

For me still laughs among her rocks The Naiad; and the Dryad's locks Drop perfume on the wild-flower flocks.

The Satyr hoof still prints the loam; And, whiter than the wind-blown foam, The Oread haunts her mountain home.

To him, whose mind is fain to dwell With loveliness no time can quell, All things are real, imperishable.

To him--whatever facts may say-- Who sees the soul beneath the clay, Is proof of a diviner day.

The very stars and flowers preach A gospel old as G.o.d, and teach Philosophy a child may reach;

That can not die, that shall not cease, That lives through idealities Of beauty, ev'n as Rome and Greece;

That lift the soul above the clod, And, working out some period Of art, are part and proof of G.o.d.