But all unveiled the world of Sense
An inner meaning had for him,
And Beauty loved in innocence,
Not sought in passion or in whim,
Within a soul so pure could ne'er grow dull and dim.
And in this vision did he toil,
And in this Beauty lived and died.
And think not that he left his soil
By no rich tillage sanctified;
In olden times he might have been his country's pride.
And yet may be-though he hath gone
For spirits of so fine a mould
Lose not the glory they have won ;
Their memory turns not pale and cold—
While Love lives on, the lovely never can grow old.
KINDLY he did receive us where he dwelt,
And in his smile and eye I inly felt
The self-same power, the influence mild and grand,
Which o'er our kindled souls had held command,
When to the page his mind had wrought we turned.
But now anew our hearts within us burned,
As side by side, we hearkened to his talk,
Or rambled with him in his morning walk.
Unveiled he stood; and beautiful he moved
Amid home-sympathies ;-a heart that loved
Nature as dearly as a gentle mother,
And man as a great spirit and a brother.
In the clear deepening river of his thought,
Welling in tones and words by nature taught;
In the mild lustre of the long-lashed eye,
And round the delicate lips, how artlessly
Broke forth the intuitions of his mind.
I listened and I looked, but could not find
Courage or words to tell my sympathy
With all this deep-toned wisdom borne to me.
Still less could I declare how, ere I knew
The spell his visible presence o'er me threw,
page his inspiration wrought, had warmed
Daily to life the faith within me formed
Of Nature's great relationship to man;
So far his speed of sight my own outran.
And if I spoke, it seemed to me my thought
Was but a pale and broken reflex caught
From his own orb; so silently I sat
Drinking in truth and beauty. Yet there was that
In his serene and sympathizing smile,
Which as I listened, told me all the while
That nearer intercourse might give me right
To come within the region of his light;
Not to be dazzled, moth-like, by his flame,
But go as independent as I came.
And once again within the lighted hall,
Where Mind and Beauty gathered to his call,
We heard him speak; upon his eye and tongue,
Dropping their golden thoughts we mutely hung.
Aurora shootings mixed with summer lightning;
Meteors of truth through beauty's sky still bright'ning;
Phoenix-lived things born amid stars and flashes,
And rising rocket-winged from their own ashes;
Pearls prodigally rained, too large and fast;
Rich music-tones too sweet and rare to last—
Such seemed his natural utterance as it passed.
And yet the steadier light that shone alway,
Looked through these meteors in their rapid play,
And warmed around us like the sunlight mild,
And Truth in Beauty's robes stood by and smiled.
A LITTLE pleasant bubbling up
From the unfathomable ocean;
A little glimmering from the unmeasured sun;
A little noise, a little motion—
Such is human speech;
I to thee would teach
A truth diviner, deeper
Than this empty strife;
For thou art the keeper
Of the wells of life.
Godlike Silence! I would woo thee
Leave behind this thoughtless clamour;
Journey upward, upward to thee,
Put on thy celestial armour.
Let us speak no more,
Let us be Divinities;
Let poor mortals prate and roar;
Know we not how small it is
To be ever uttering,
Babbling and muttering?
Thou canst never tell the whole
Of thine unmanageable Soul.
Deeper than thy deepest speech, Wiser than thy wisest thought, Something lies thou canst not reach, Never to the surface brought.
Masses without form or make,
Sleeping gnomes that never wake;
Genii bound by magic spells;
Fairies and all miracles;
Shapes unclassed and wonderful,
Huge and dire and beautiful;
Dreams and hopes and prophecies
Struggling to ope their eyes;
All that is most vast and dim,
All that is most good and bad,
Demon, sprite and cherubim,
Spectral troops and angels glad;
Things that stir not, yet are living,
Up to the light for ever striving,
Thoughts whose faces are averted,
Guesses dwelling in the dark;
Instincts not to be diverted
From their ever-present mark
Such thy inner Life, O Man,
Which no outward eye may scan,
Wonderful, most wonderful,
Terrible and beautiful!
Speak not, argue not—but live!
Reins to thy true nature give,
And in each unconscious act
Forth will shine the hidden fact.
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