To Mary

So now my summer-task is ended, Mary,And I return to thee, mine own heart's home;As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faery,Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome;Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame becomeA star among the stars of mortal night,If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom,Its doubtful promise thus I would uniteWith thy beloved name, thou Child of love and light.

The toil which stole from thee so many an hour,Is ended,--and the fruit is at thy feet!No longer where the woods to frame a bowerWith interlaced branches mix and meet,Or where with sound like many voices sweet,Waterfalls leap among wild islands green,Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreatOf moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen;But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been.

Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when firstThe clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass.I do remember well the hour which burstMy spirit's sleep. A fresh May-dawn it was,When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,And wept, I knew not why; until there roseFrom the near schoolroom, voices that, alas!Were but one echo from a world of woes--The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.

And then I clasped my hands and looked around----But none was near to mock my streaming eyes,Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground--So without shame I spake:--'I will be wise,And just, and free, and mild, if in me liesSuch power, for I grow weary to beholdThe selfish and the strong still tyranniseWithout reproach or check.' I then controlledMy tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold.

And from that hour did I with earnest thoughtHeap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore;Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taughtI cared to learn, but from that secret storeWrought linked armour for my soul, beforeIt might walk forth to war among mankind;Thus power and hope were strengthened more and moreWithin me, till there came upon my mindA sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined.

Alas, that love should be a blight and snareTo those who seek all sympathies in one!--Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,The shadow of a starless night, was thrownOver the world in which I moved alone:--Yet never found I one not false to me,Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stoneWhich crushed and withered mine, that could not beAught but a lifeless clod, until revived by thee.

Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heartFell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain;How beautiful and calm and free thou wertIn thy young wisdom, when the mortal chainOf Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,And walked as free as light the clouds among,Which many an envious slave then breathed in vainFrom his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprungTo meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long!

No more alone through the world's wilderness,Although I trod the paths of high intent,I journeyed now: no more companionless,Where solitude is like despair, I went.--There is the wisdom of a stern contentWhen Poverty can blight the just and good,When Infamy dares mock the innocent,And cherished friends turn with the multitudeTo trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood!

Now has descended a serener hour,And with inconstant fortune, friends return;Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the powerWhich says:--Let scorn be not repaid with scorn.And from thy side two gentle babes are bornTo fill our home with smiles, and thus are weMost fortunate beneath life's beaming morn;And these delights, and thou, have been to meThe parents of the Song I consecrate to thee.

Is it that now my inexperienced fingersBut strike the prelude of a loftier strain?Or, must the lyre on which my spirit lingersSoon pause in silence, ne'er to sound again,Though it might shake the Anarch Custom's reign,And charm the minds of men to Truth's own swayHolier than was Amphion's? I would fainReply in hope--but I am worn away,And Death and Love are yet contending for their prey.

And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak:Time may interpret to his silent years.Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,And in the light thine ample forehead wears,And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears,And in thy gentle speech, a prophecyIs whispered, to subdue my fondest fears:And through thine eyes, even in thy soul I seeA lamp of vestal fire burning internally.

They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth,Of glorious parents thou aspiring Child.I wonder not--for One then left this earthWhose life was like a setting planet mild,Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiledOf its departing glory; still her fameShines on thee, through the tempests dark and wildWhich shake these latter days; and thou canst claimThe shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name.

One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit,Which was the echo of three thousand years;And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,As some lone man who in a desert hearsThe music of his home:--unwonted fearsFell on the pale oppressors of our race,And Faith, and Custom, and low-thoughted cares,Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a spaceLeft the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place.

Truth's deathless voice pauses among mankind!If there must be no response to my cry--If men must rise and stamp with fury blindOn his pure name who loves them,--thou and I,Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillityLike lamps into the world's tempestuous night,--Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing byWhich wrap them from the foundering seaman's sight,That burn from year to year with unextinguished light.