Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me, And set free my spirit's wings. But I looked for signs and wonders, That o'er men should give me sway, Thirsting to be more than mortal, 1842. I was even less than clay. Ere I entered on my journey, 66 The beloved of my heart;— In her hand she held a flower, Like to this as like may be, Which, beside my very threshold, She had plucked and brought to me." FORGETFULNESS. THERE is a haven of sure rest From the loud world's bewildering stress: As a bird dreaming on her nest, As dew hid in a rose's breast, As Hesper in the glowing West; So the heart sleeps In thy calm deeps, Serene Forgetfulness! 1842. No sorrow in that place may be, The noise of life grows less and less : As moss far down within the sea, As, in white lily caves, a bee, As life in a hazy reverie ; So the heart's wave In thy dim cave, Hushes, Forgetfulness! Duty and care fade far away, What toil may be we cannot guess: As a ship anchored in a bay, As a cloud at summer-noon astray, As water-blooms in a breezeless day; So, 'neath thine eyes, The full heart lies, And dreams, Forgetfulness! A REVERIE. In the twilight deep and silent Comes thy spirit unto mine, When the starlight and the moonlight Over cliff and woodland shine, And the quiver of the river Seems a thrill of joy benign. Then I rise and go in fancy To the headland by the sea, When the evening-star throbs setting Through the dusky cedar-tree; And, from under, low-voiced thunder From the surf swells fitfully. Then within my soul I feel thee, Like a dream of bygone years; All the wondrous dreams of boyhood, All the surer hopes of manhood Blossoming in sadder days, Joys that bound me, griefs that crowned me With a better wreath than bays,— All the longings after freedom, Like a dead leaf on the wind, Rousing only in the lonely Twilight of an aimless mind, L |