Never--forever!"
Half-way up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas!
With sorrowful voice to all who pass,--
"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night, Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, It echoes along the vacant hall, Along the ceiling, along the floor, And seems to say, at each chamber-door,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Through days of death and days of birth, Through every swift vicissitude Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, And as if, like God, it all things saw, It calmly repeats those words of awe,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
In that mansion used to be Free-hearted Hospitality;His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;
But, like the skeleton at the feast, That warning timepiece never ceased,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
There groups of merry children played, There youths and maidens dreaming strayed;O precious hours! O golden prime, And affluence of love and time!
Even as a Miser counts his gold, Those hours the ancient timepiece told,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
From that chamber, clothed in white, The bride came forth on her wedding night;There, in that silent room below, The dead lay in his shroud of snow;And in the hush that followed the prayer, Was heard the old clock on the stair,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
All are scattered now and fled, Some are married, some are dead;And when I ask, with throbs of pain.
"Ah! when shall they all meet again?"
As in the days long since gone by, The ancient timepiece makes reply,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!
Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, And death, and time shall disappear,--Forever there, but never here!
The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly,--"Forever--never!
Never--forever!"
THE ARROW AND THE SONG
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where;For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where;For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke;And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
SONNETS
MEZZO CAMMIN
Half of my life is gone, and I have let The years slip from me and have not fulfilled The aspiration of my youth, to build Some tower of song with lofty parapet.
Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret Of restless passions chat would not be stilled, But sorrow, and a care that almost killed, Kept me from what I may accomplish yet;Though, half way up the hill, I see the Past Lying beneath me with its sounds and sights,--A city in the twilight dim and vast, With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.--And hear above me on the autumnal blast The cataract of Death far thundering from the heights.
THE EVENING STAR
Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines, Like a fair lady at her casement, shines The evening star, the star of love and rest!
And then anon she doth herself divest Of all her radiant garments, and reclines Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines, With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed.
O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus!
My morning and my evening star of love!
My best and gentlest lady! even thus, As that fair planet in the sky above, Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night, And from thy darkened window fades the light.
AUTUMN
Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land, Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended So long beneath the heaven's o'er-hanging eaves;Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended;Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid, Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!
DANTE
Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes, Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, Like Farinata from his fiery tomb.
Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom;Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relume!
Methinks I see thee stand, with pallid cheeks, By Fra Hilario in his diocese, As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease;And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, Thy voice along the cloister whispers, "Peace!"CURFEW
I.
Solemnly, mournfully, Dealing its dole, The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll.
Cover the embers, And put out the light;Toil comes with the morning, And rest with the night.
Dark grow the windows, And quenched is the fire;Sound fades into silence,--
All footsteps retire.
No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall!
Sleep and oblivion Reign over all!
II.
The book is completed, And closed, like the day;And the hand that has written it Lays it away.
Dim grow its fancies;
Forgotten they lie;
Like coals in the ashes, They darken and die.
Song sinks into silence, The story is told, The windows are darkened, The hearth-stone is cold.
Darker and darker The black shadows fall;Sleep and oblivion Reign over all.
************
EVANGELINE
A TALE OF ACADIE
This is the forest primeval.The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.