Classic Poem

TO THE MISTRESS OF CEDARCROFT

I

The evening shadows lengthen on the lawn:
 Westward, our immemorial chestnuts stand,
A mount of shade; but o'er the cedars drawn,
 Between the hedge-row trees, in many a band
Of brightening gold, the sunshine lingers on,
 And soon will touch our oaks with parting hand:
And down the distant valley all is still,
And flushed with purple smiles the beckoning hill.

II

Come, leave the flowery terrace, leave the beds
 Where Southern children wake to Northern air:
Let yon mimosas droop their tufted heads,
 These myrtle-trees their nuptial beauty wear,
And while the dying day reluctant treads
 From tree-top unto tree-top, with me share
The scene's idyllic peace, the evening's close,
The balm of twilight, and the land's repose.

III

Come, for my task is done: the task that drew
 My footsteps from the chambers of the Day,—
ThaTheld me back. Beloved, even from you,
 That are my daylight: for the Poet's way
Turns into many a lonely avenue
 Where none may follow. He must sing his lay
First to himself, then to the One most dear:
Last, to the world. Come to my side, and hear!

IV

The poems ripened in a heart at rest,
 A life that first through you is free and strong,
Take them and warm them in your partial breast,
 Before they try the common air of song!
Fame won at home is of all fame the best:
 Crown me your poet, and the critic's wrong
Shall harmless strike where you in love have smiled,
Wife of my heart, and mother of my child!