Classic Poem

I.

Beside me, in a dream of the deep night,
Unsummon'd, but in loveliness array'd,
Stood a warm, blue-eyed maid;
And the night fled before her, and the bloom
Of her eternal beauty from my sight
Dispell'd the midnight gloom.

II.

She stood beside me, and her white hand fell,
A touch of life and light upon my brow, —
That straightway felt the freshening waters flow,
As from a heart whose tides had sudden might
In the bright presence of some holy spell, —
Whose smile at once brought strength with new delight.

III.

And in her voice a winningness prevail'd, —
A music born of waters that go free
Through forests gladden'd in their greenery,
And lapsing through their leaves, as in a play
Of song and bird, by flower and beam regaled,
Whose pastimes are not ended with the day.

IV.

Hers was a voice of wings; — the linnet's note,
The lark's clear morning song of upper skies.
The dove's sweet plaint of tenderness and sighs; —
And the unparallel'd life within her own,
Made these a happier music than they brought
Unchorus'd, when they caroll'd forth alone!

V.

Her eye was its own music, — its own flight, —
As if, commercing ever with the spheres,
It strove for harmonies to mate with theirs,
And wings to pass from star to star at will; —
To shun the province yielded up to night,
For realms of brightness still!

VI.

The living speech upon her lips, in fire
Rose swelling like a soul; — while in her eye
The truth that blossoms with divinity,
Ray'd out with golden brightness, and awoke
Within my heart a pulse of new desire,
That burst each ancient yoke.

VII.

Then, in my rapture, I had lain my head
Upon the soft swell of that happy round,
That rose up like a white celestial mound, —
As saying, — " bring your gifts to this one shrine; "
But that her brow's clear will soon banished
The fond resolve from mine!

VIII.

I did not quail or tremble at her glance,
For still it seem'd as she were there to bring
New loves to crown my hope, a newer wing,
And open better provinces of life; —
Within her smile I saw deliverance,
And broad new realms for strife.

IX.

Yet broken was my speech, and forth I stood
Despairing, though immersed in certain bliss,
Lest I should lose, in my soul's feebleness,
The embrace that now seem'd needful to content;
And tears were all that the impetuous blood
Vouchsafed, of all it meant!

X.

Then sweeter grew the smile upon her face,
As conscious of my suffering and my truth,
Her heart for mine was sudden smit with ruth;
And she made answer, not with human word, —
But in her smile, and the intelligent grace
Of motion, was she heard.

XI.

" Thy wish is thy performance, " said she then; —
" And thou wilt take me to thy arms anon
When thou hast put thy loftier nature on,
And made me the sole passion in thy heart;
But not for thee, when we shall meet again,
To be what now thou art!

XII.

" And 'tis for thy soliciting to say,
Whether my form will show to thee as now; —
It may be thou wilt shrink to see the brow,
Which, though in loveliness it now appears,
May so affront thee, thou wilt turn away
In terror and in tears!

XIII.

" If that the passion thou hast felt for me
Live in thy future memory, thou wilt raise
Thy altar and thy anthem in my praise;
And I will light thy fires and wing thy strain; —
But if I lose thee from my love, for thee
My presence must be pain.

XIV.

" 'Tis written, we shall meet; — 'tis written more,
Thou shalt be mine, I thine; and we must go
Forever link'd through ages that still flow
From founts of time eternal, to no end,
Save one of toil, which we may both deplore,
Or covet, as thy single wishes tend.

XV.

" Our future is performance! Worlds are placed
Around us for possession; and, in these
We make our separate mansions as we please,
And choose the separate task that each fulfil;
In these, or happy and blest, — or low debased, —
Must wait upon thy will.

XVI.

" And thus, in a brief vision of the night,
I show thee what I am, that thou mayst see
How great the blessings that still wait on thee,
Even at thy pleasure: — Could I show thee more,
Then should thy wonder grow with thy delight,
At what is in my store.

XVII.

" I come not with denial, though I now
Deny thee my embrace; — thy head shall lie
Upon this bosom — on thy doubtful eye
This form shall rise at last, whate'er thou beest;
For thee to say, how fair shall be the brow,
How bright the eye, which, in that day thou seest.

XVIII.

" Oh! 'tis to all my charms that I entreat
Thy coming; — thou shalt have my crown and wings;
For thee, the bird that late and early sings,
When hope is at the entrance, shall appear;
And we will glide, with pinions at our feet,
To tasks by Love made dear!

XIX.

" Come to me then, beloved one, with thy heart
Made pure in my remembrance — with thy though
By hope of triumph in mine forever taught
To seek the unnamed condition of delight; —
So shall I meet thee, fond as now thou art,
Thou me, as now I seem unto thy sight! "

XX.

Rapture, oh rapture! — wherefore wert thou born
So soon to perish? — thou, a part of death,
Art lost to being with thy first sweet breath,
And lifelong then we mourn thee, with an eye,
Turn'd outwards, inwards — with the look forlorn —
Too happy, if it seeks for thee on high.