All the flowers are praying For sun, before they close, And he prays too--unconscious--
That sunless human rose.
Blossom--that the west-wind Has never wooed to blow, Scentless are thy petals, Thy dew is cold as snow!
Soul--where kindred kindness, No early promise woke, Barren is thy beauty, As weed upon a rock.
Wither--soul and blossom!
You both were vainly given;Earth reserves no blessing For the unblest of heaven!
Child of delight, with sun-bright hair, And sea-blue, sea-deep eyes!
Spirit of bliss! What brings thee here Beneath these sullen skies?
Thou shouldst live in eternal spring, Where endless day is never dim;Why, Seraph, has thine erring wing Wafted thee down to weep with him?
"Ah! not from heaven am I descended, Nor do I come to mingle tears;But sweet is day, though with shadows blended;And, though clouded, sweet are youthful years.
"I--the image of light and gladness--
Saw and pitied that mournful boy, And I vowed--if need were--to share his sadness, And give to him my sunny joy.
"Heavy and dark the night is closing;Heavy and dark may its biding be:
Better for all from grief reposing, And better for all who watch like me--
"Watch in love by a fevered pillow, Cooling the fever with pity's balm Safe as the petrel on tossing billow, Safe in mine own soul's golden calm!
"Guardian-angel he lacks no longer;Evil fortune he need not fear:
Fate is strong, but love is stronger;And MY love is truer than angel-care."
THE VISIONARY.
Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep, Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.
Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far: