Passion-Flowers

1853

Salutatory

I was born ‘neath a clouded star,
More in shadow than light have grown ;
Loving souls are not like trees
That strongest and stateliest shoot alone.

Comfort me as a child of Art
That Sorrow from her mother stole,
And sent, to cross the threshold of life,
Orphaned in heart, and beggared in soul.

I have sung to lowly hearts
Of their own music, only deeper ;
I have flung through the dusty road
Shining seeds for the unknown reaper.

I have piped at cottage doors
My sweetest measures, merry and sad,
Cheating Toil from his grinding task,
Setting the dancing rustics mad.

Kindly though their greetings were,
They were far from my race or kin ;
But I passed the loftier porch,
Fearing not to be let in.
Better to sit at humble hearths,
Where simple souls confide their all,
Than stand and knock at the groined gate,
To crave a hearing in the hall.
Oh ! ye winged ones shall I stand
A moment in your shining ranks ?
Will ye pass me the golden cup ?
Only tears can give you thanks.
Without gracious ears to hear,
Languidly flows the tide of song
Waters, unhelped of bank or brake,
Slowly, sluggishly creep along.

We must measure from mankind,
Know in them our fancies true ;
Echo gives us each high-strained sharp,
Teaches us tune the harp anew.

Ere this mystery of Life
Solving, scatter its form to air,
Let me feel that I have lived
In the music of a prayer,

In the joy of generous thought,
Quickening, enkindling soul from soul ;
In the rapture of deeper Faith
Spreading its solemn, sweet control.

Brothers and sisters ! kind indeed
Ye have heard the untutored strain ;
Through your helpful cherishing,
I may take heart to sing again

Sing and strike, at high command,
And keep sacred silence too ;
Not too greedy of men’s praise,
When I know I am one of you.

If the headsman of our tribe,
(The stern Reviewer, friends, I mean,)
Bring me bound in the market-place,
Then, like mournful Anne Boleyn,

I will stretch my slender neck,
Passive, in the public view ;
Tell him with a plaintive smile,
That his task is easy to do.

TO MY MASTER.

Thou who so dear a mediation wert
Between the heavens and my mortality,
Give ear to these faint murmurs of the heart,
Which, upward tending, take their tone from thee.
Follow where’er the wayward numbers run,
And if on my deserving, not my need,
Some boon should wait, vouchsafe this only meed,
Modest, but glorious say, ‘Thou hast well done.’

I’ve wrought alone my pleasure was my task :

As I walk onward to Eternity,
It were a trivial thing to stand and ask

That my faint footsteps should remembered be ;
Of all Earth’s crownings, I would never one

But thine approving hand upon my head,

Dear as the sacred laurels of the dead,
And that high, measured praise, ‘ Thou hast well done’

TO FRIENDS AND FOE.

Ye fleeting blossoms of my life,
The promise of diviner fruit,
Forgive, if I enrich with you
The cypress garland of my lute.

Too closely are ye linked with me,
Too much in mine your being blends,
That I in song should cast you off,
And sing myself, and not my frien< :

Some of you tread this vernal earth,
And some in mystic soul-land move ;
In these, I hold all holy truth,
In those, attain to heav’nly love.
And ye who, rankling in my path,
Have torn my feet, and pierced my side,
Holding the eager pilgrim back
To suffer wounded love and pride ;

Forgive if I, whom Nature made
Vengeful in none of my desires,
Have in my harmless chaplet bound
Your sharp and bitter forms, ye briars !

Forgive as I forgive, and own
As feels the heart, so falls the lot ;
My flowers of life were loving friends ;
My thorns were those who loved me not.

Mind Versus Mill-Stream

A Miller wanted a mill-stream,
A mild, efficient brook
To help him in his living, in
Some snug and shady nook.

But our Miller had a brilliant taste,
A love of flash and spray,
And so, the stream that charmed him most
Was that of brightest play

It wore a quiet look, at times,
And steady seemed, and still,

But when its quicker depths were stirred,
Wow! but it wrought its will.

And men had tried to bridle it
By artifice, and force,
But madness from its rising grew,
And all along its course

‘Twas on a sultry summer’s day,
The Miller chanced to stop
Where it invited to ‘look in
And take a friendly drop.’

Coiffed with long wreaths of crimson weed,
Veiled by a passing cloud,
It looked a novice of the woods
That dares not speak aloud.

Said he: ‘I never met a stream
More beautiful and bland,
‘Twill gain my bread, and bless it too,
So here my mill shall stand.’

And ere the summer’s glow had passed,
Or crimson flowers did fade,
The Miller measured out his ground,
And his foundation laid.

The Miller toiled with might and main,
Builded with thought and care;
And when the Spring broke up the ice
The water-wheel stood there

Like a frolic maiden come from school,
The stream looked out, anew;
And the happy Miller bowing, said,
‘Now turn my mill-wheel, do!’

‘Your mill-wheel?’ cried the naughty Nymph,
‘That would, indeed, be fine!
You have your business, I suppose,
Learn too that I have mine.’

‘What better business can you have,
Than turn this wheel for me?’
Leaping and laughing, the wild thing cried,
‘Follow, and you may see.’

The Miller trudged with measured pace,
As Reason follows Rhyme,
And saw his mill-stream run to waste,
In the very teeth of time.

‘Fore heaven!’ he swore, ‘since thou’rt perverse,
I’ve hit upon a plan;
A dam shall stay thine outward course,
And then, break out who can.’

So he built a dam of wood and stone,
Not sparing in the cost,
‘For,’ thought our friend, ‘this water-power
‘Must not be lightly lost.’

‘What? will you force me?’ said the sprite;
‘You shall not find it gain;’
So, with a flash, a dash, a crash
She made her way amain

Then, freeing all her pent-up soul,
She rushed, in frantic race
And fragments of the Miller’s work
Threw in the Miller’s face.

The good man built his dam again,
More stoutly than before;
He flung no challenge to the foe,
But an oath he inly swore:

‘Thou seest resistance is in vain,
So yield with better grace.’
And the water sluices turned the stream
To its appointed place.

‘Aha! I’ve conquered now!’ quoth he,
For the water-fury bold
Was still an instant, ere she rose
In wrath and power fourfold

With roar and rush, and massive sweep
She cleared the shameful bound,
And flung to utterness of waste
The Miller, and his mound

MORAL.

If you would marry happily
On the shady side of life,
Choose out some quietly-disposed
And placid tempered wife,

To share the length of sober days,
And dimly slumberous nights,
But well beware those fitful souls
Fate wings for wilder flights!

For men will woo the tempest,
And wed it, to their cost,
Then swear that took it for summer dew,
And ah! their peace is lost!

The Heart’s Astronomy

THIS evening, as the twilight fell,

My younger children watched for me ;

Like cherubs in the window framed,

I saw the smiling group of three.

While round and round the house I trudged,

Intent to walk a weary mile,

Oft as I passed within their range,

The little things would beck and smile.

They watched me, as Astronomers

Whose business lies in heaven afar,

Await, beside the slanting glass,

The re-appearance of a star.

Not so, not so, my pretty ones,

Seek stars in yonder cloudless sky ;

But mark no steadfast path for me,

A comet dire and strange am I.

Now to the inmost spheres of light

Lifted, my wondering soul dilates,

Now dropped in endless depth of night,

My hope God’s slow recall awaits.

Among the shining I have shone,

Among the blessing, have been blest,

Then weaiying years have held me bound

Where darkness deadness gives, not rest.

Between extremes distraught and rent,

I question not the way I go ;

Who made me, gave it me, I deem,

Thus to aspire, to languish so.

But Comets too have holy laws,

Their fiery sinews to restrain,

And from their outmost wanderings

Are drawn to heaven’s dear heart again.

And ye, beloved ones, when ye know

What wild, erratic natures are,

Pray that the laws of heavenly force

Would hold and guide the Mother star.

Appeal to Womanhood Throughout the World ^[1]

1870

Again, in the sight of the Christian world, have the skill and power of two great nations exhausted themselves in mutual murder. Again have the sacred questions of international justice been committed to the fatal mediation of military weapons. In this day of progress, in this century of light, the ambition of rulers has been allowed to barter the dear interests of domestic life for the bloody exchanges of the battle field. Thus men have done. Thus men will do. But women need no longer be made a party to proceedings which fill the globe with grief and horror. Despite the assumptions of physical force, the mother has a sacred and commanding word to say to the sons who owe their life to her suffering. That word should now be heard, and answered to as never before.

Arise, then, Christian women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts whether your baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for carresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country, to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says: Disarm, disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence vindicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of council.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take council with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, man as the brother of man, each bearing after his own kind the sacred impress, not of Cæsar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women, without limit of nationality, may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient, and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace

Transcribed from https://www.loc.gov/resource/rbpe.07400300/?st=text

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