FOR this true nobleness I seek in vain, In woman and in man I find it not;

I almost weary of my earthly lot, My life-springs are dried up with burning pain.'

Thou find'st it not? I pray thee look again,

Look inward through the depths of thine own soul.

How is it with thee? Art thou sound and whole ?

Doth narrow search show thee no earthly

Life hath no dim and lowly spot That doth not in her sunshine share.

She doeth little kindnesses,
Which most leave undone, or despise:
For naught that sets one heart at ease,
And giveth happiness or peace,
Is low-esteemed in her eyes.

She hath no scorn of common things,
And, though she seem of other birth,
Round us her heart intwines and clings,
And patiently she folds her wings
To tread the humble paths of earth.

Blessing she is: God made her so,
And deeds of week-day holiness
Fall from her noiseless as the snow,
Nor hath she ever chanced to know
That aught were easier than to bless.

She is most fair, and thereunto
Her life doth rightly harmonize;
Feeling or thought that was not true
Ne'er made less beautiful the blue
Unclouded heaven of her eyes.

She is a woman: one in whom
The spring-time of her childish years
Hath never lost its fresh perfume,
Though knowing well that life hath room
For many blights and many tears.

I love her with a love as still
As a broad river's peaceful might,
Which, by high tower and lowly mill,
Seems following its own wayward will,
And yet doth ever flow aright.

And, on its full, deep breast serene,
Like quiet isles my duties lie;
It flows around them and between,

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Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss,

While Time and Peace with hands enlocked fly;

Yet care I not where in Eternity

We live and love, well knowing that there is No backward step for those who feel the bliss

Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high:

Love hath so purified my being's core, Meseems I scarcely should be startled, even, To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before;

Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was given,

Which each calm day doth strengthen more and more,

That they who love are but one step from Heaven.

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man;

(1843.)

1841.

And a heart-tremble quivers through the deep;

Give me that growth which some perchance deem sleep,

Wherewith the steadfast coral-stems uprise,
Which, by the toil of gathering energies,
Their upward way into clear sunshine keep,
Until, by Heaven's sweetest influences,
Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of green
Into a pleasant island in the seas,
Where, 'mid tall palms, the cane-roofed
home is seen,

And wearied men shall sit at sunset's hour, Hearing the leaves and loving God's dear power.

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The twilight warmth of ruddy embergloom:

Thy clear, strong tones will oft bring sudden bloom

Of hope secure, to him who lonely cries, Wrestling with the young poet's agonies, Neglect and scorn, which seem a certain doom:

Yes! the few words which, like great thunder-drops,

Thy large heart down to earth shook doubtfully,

Thrilled by the inward lightning of its might,

Serene and pure, like gushing joy of light, Shall track the eternal chords of Destiny,

After the moon-led pulse of ocean stops.

'OUR LOVE IS NOT A FADING EARTHLY FLOWER'

Our love is not a fading earthly flower: Its winged seed dropped down from Paradise,

And, nursed by day and night, by sun and shower,

Doth momently to fresher beauty rise:
To us the leafless autumn is not bare,
Nor winter's rattling boughs lack lusty
green.

Our summer hearts make summer's fulness, where

No leaf, or bud, or blossom may be seen: For nature's life in love's deep life doth lie, Love, whose forgetfulness is beauty's death,

Whose mystic key these cells of Thou and I Into the infinite freedom openeth,

And makes the body's dark and narrow grate

The wide-flung leaves of Heaven's own palace-gate.

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We find within these souls of ours
Some wild germs of a higher birth,
Which in the poet's tropic heart bear flowers
Whose fragrance fills the earth.

Within the hearts of all men lie
These promises of wider bliss,

Which blossom into hopes that cannot die,
In sunny hours like this.

All that hath been majestical
In life or death, since time began,
Is native in the simple heart of all,
The angel heart of man.

And thus, among the untaught poor,
Great deeds and feelings find a home,
That cast in shadow all the golden lore
Of classic Greece and Rome.

O mighty brother-soul of man, Where'er thou art, in low or high, Thy skyey arches with exulting span O'er-roof infinity!

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