Classic Poem

Little maiden, you may laugh
That you see me wear a staff,
But your laughter is the chaff
From the melancholy grain.
Through the shadows long and cool
You are tripping down to school;
But your teacher's cloudy rule
Only dulls the shining pool
With its loud and stormy rain.

There's a higher lore to learn
Than his knowledge can discern,
There's a valley deep and dern
In a desolate domain;
But for this he has no chart —
Shallow science, shallow art!
Thither — oh, be still, my heart —
One too many did depart
From the halls of Linden Lane.

I can teach you better things;
For I know the secret springs
Where the spirit wells and sings
Till it overflows the brain.
Come, when eve is closing in,
When the spiders gray begin,
Like philosophers, to spin
Misty tissues, vain and thin,
Through the shades of Linden Lane.

While you sit as in a trance,
Where the moon-made shadows dance,
From the distaff of Romance
I will spin a silken skein:
Down the misty years gone by
I will turn your azure eye;
You shall see the changeful sky
Falling dark or hanging high
Over the halls of Linden Lane.

Come, and sitting by the trees,
Over long and level leas,
Stretched between us and the seas,
I can point the battle-plain:
If the air comes from the shore
We may hear the billows roar;
But oh! never, never more
Shall the wind come as of yore
To the halls of Linden Lane.

Those were weary days of woe.
Ah! yes, many years ago,
When a cruel foreign foe
Sent his fleets across the main.
Though all this is in your books,
There are countless words and looks,
Which, like flowers in hidden nooks,
Or the melody of brooks,
There's no volume can retair.

Come, and if the night be fair,
And the moon be in the air,
I can tell you when and where
Walked a tender loving twain:
Though it cannot be, alas!
Yet, as in a magic glass,
We will sit and see them pass
Through the long and rustling grass
At the foot of Linden Lane.

Yonder did they turn and go,
Through the level lawn below,
With a stately step and slow,
And long shadows in their train:
Weaving dreams no thoughts could mar,
Down they wandered long and far,
Gazing toward the horizon's bar,
On their love's appointed star
Rising in the Lion's Mane.

As across a summer sea,
Love sailed o'er the quiet lea,
Light as only love may be,
Freighted with no care or pain.
Such the night; but with the morn
Brayed the distant bugle-horn —
Louder! louder! it was borne —
Then were anxious faces worn
In the halls of Linden Lane.

With the trumpet's nearer bray,
Flashing but a league away,
Saw we arms and banners gay
Stretching far along the plain.
Neighing answer to the call,
Burst our chargers from the stall;
Mounted, here they leaped the wall,
There the stream: while in the hall
Eyes were dashed with sudden rain.

Belted for the fiercest fight,
And with swimming plume of white,
Passed the lover out of sight
With the hurrying hosts amain.
Then the thunders of the gun
On the shuddering breezes run,
And the clouds o'erswept the sun,
Till the heavens hung dark and dun
Over the halls of Linden Lane.

Few that joined the fiery fray
Lived to tell how went the day;
But that few could proudly say
How the foe bad fled the plain.
Long the maiden's eyes did yearn
For her cavalier's return;
But she watched alone to learn
That the valley deep and dern
Was her desolate domain.

Leave your books awhile apart;
For they cannot teach the heart;
Come, and I will show the chart
Which shall make the mystery plain
I can tell you hidden things
Which your knowledge never brings;
For I know the secret springs
Where the spirit wells and sings,
Till it overflows the brain.

Ah, yes, lightly sing and laugh —
Half a child and woman half;
But your laughter is the chaff
From the melancholy grain;
And, ere many years shall fly,
Age will dim your laughing eye,
And like me you'll totter by;
For remember, love, that I
Was the Maid of Linden Lane.