"If the way had been shorter and greener
And brighter, he might have been brave;
But the goal was too far and he fainted,
Like Peter with Christ on the wave!"
Beyond the wild haunts of the mockers --
Far in the distance and gray,
Floateth that sorrowful spirit
Away, and away, and away.
Pale phantoms fly past it, like shadows:
Dim eyes that are blinded with tears;
Old faces all white with affliction --
The ghosts of the wasted dead years!
"Soul that hath ruined us, shiver
And moan when you know us," they cry --
"Behold, I was part of thy substance!" --
"And I" -- saith another -- "and I!"
Drifting from starless abysses
Into the ether sublime,
Where is no upward nor downward,
Nor region nor record of Time!
Out of the Body for ever
No refuge -- no succour nor stay --
Floated that sorrowful Spirit
Away, and away, and away.
Sonnets
To N. D. Stenhouse, Esq.
Dark days have passed, but you who taught me then
To look upon the world with trustful eyes,
Are not forgotten! Quick to sympathise
With noble thoughts, I've dreamt of moments when
Your low voice filled with strains of fairer skies!
Stray breaths of Grecian song that went and came,
Like floating fragrance from some quiet glen
In those far hills which shine with classic fame
Of passioned nymphs and grand-browed god-like men!
I sometimes fear my heart hath lost the same
Sweet sense of harmony; but ~this~ I know
That Beauty waits on you ~where'er~ you go,
Because she loveth child-like Faith! Her bowers
Are rich for it with glad perennial flowers.
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