Whittiers Complete Poems, vol 2 | Page 2

in its belt of gold,?And following down its wavy line,?Its sparkling waters blend with thine.?There 's not a tree upon thy side,?Nor rock, which thy returning tide?As yet hath left abrupt and stark?Above thy evening water-mark;?No calm cove with its rocky hem,?No isle whose emerald swells begin?Thy broad, smooth current; not a sail?Bowed to the freshening ocean gale;?No small boat with its busy oars,?Nor gray wall sloping to thy shores;?Nor farm-house with its maple shade,?Or rigid poplar colonnade,?But lies distinct and full in sight,?Beneath this gush of sunset light.?Centuries ago, that harbor-bar,?Stretching its length of foam afar,?And Salisbury's beach of shining sand,?And yonder island's wave-smoothed strand,?Saw the adventurer's tiny sail,?Flit, stooping from the eastern gale;?And o'er these woods and waters broke?The cheer from Britain's hearts of oak,?As brightly on the voyager's eye,?Weary of forest, sea, and sky,?Breaking the dull continuous wood,?The Merrimac rolled down his flood;?Mingling that clear pellucid brook,?Which channels vast Agioochook?When spring-time's sun and shower unlock?The frozen fountains of the rock,?And more abundant waters given?From that pure lake, "The Smile of Heaven,"?Tributes from vale and mountain-side,--?With ocean's dark, eternal tide!
On yonder rocky cape, which braves?The stormy challenge of the waves,?Midst tangled vine and dwarfish wood,?The hardy Anglo-Saxon stood,?Planting upon the topmost crag?The staff of England's battle-flag;?And, while from out its heavy fold?Saint George's crimson cross unrolled,?Midst roll of drum and trumpet blare,?And weapons brandishing in air,?He gave to that lone promontory?The sweetest name in all his story;?Of her, the flower of Islam's daughters,?Whose harems look on Stamboul's waters,--?Who, when the chance of war had bound?The Moslem chain his limbs around,?Wreathed o'er with silk that iron chain,?Soothed with her smiles his hours of pain,?And fondly to her youthful slave?A dearer gift than freedom gave.
But look! the yellow light no more?Streams down on wave and verdant shore;?And clearly on the calm air swells?The twilight voice of distant bells.?From Ocean's bosom, white and thin,?The mists come slowly rolling in;?Hills, woods, the river's rocky rim,?Amidst the sea--like vapor swim,?While yonder lonely coast-light, set?Within its wave-washed minaret,?Half quenched, a beamless star and pale,?Shines dimly through its cloudy veil!
Home of my fathers!--I have stood?Where Hudson rolled his lordly flood?Seen sunrise rest and sunset fade?Along his frowning Palisade;?Looked down the Appalachian peak?On Juniata's silver streak;?Have seen along his valley gleam?The Mohawk's softly winding stream;?The level light of sunset shine?Through broad Potomac's hem of pine;?And autumn's rainbow-tinted banner?Hang lightly o'er the Susquehanna;?Yet wheresoe'er his step might be,?Thy wandering child looked back to thee!?Heard in his dreams thy river's sound?Of murmuring on its pebbly bound,?The unforgotten swell and roar?Of waves on thy familiar shore;?And saw, amidst the curtained gloom?And quiet of his lonely room,?Thy sunset scenes before him pass;?As, in Agrippa's magic glass,?The loved and lost arose to view,?Remembered groves in greenness grew,?Bathed still in childhood's morning dew,?Along whose bowers of beauty swept?Whatever Memory's mourners wept,?Sweet faces, which the charnel kept,?Young, gentle eyes, which long had slept;?And while the gazer leaned to trace,?More near, some dear familiar face,?He wept to find the vision flown,--?A phantom and a dream alone!?1841.
HAMPTON BEACH
The sunlight glitters keen and bright,?Where, miles away,?Lies stretching to my dazzled sight?A luminous belt, a misty light,?Beyond the dark pine bluffs and wastes of sandy gray.
The tremulous shadow of the Sea!?Against its ground?Of silvery light, rock, hill, and tree,?Still as a picture, clear and free,?With varying outline mark the coast for miles around.
On--on--we tread with loose-flung rein?Our seaward way,?Through dark-green fields and blossoming grain,?Where the wild brier-rose skirts the lane,?And bends above our heads the flowering locust spray.
Ha! like a kind hand on my brow?Comes this fresh breeze,?Cooling its dull and feverish glow,?While through my being seems to flow?The breath of a new life, the healing of the seas!
Now rest we, where this grassy mound?His feet hath set?In the great waters, which have bound?His granite ankles greenly round?With long and tangled moss, and weeds with cool spray wet.
Good-by to Pain and Care! I take?Mine ease to-day?Here where these sunny waters break,?And ripples this keen breeze, I shake?All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts away.
I draw a freer breath, I seem?Like all I see--?Waves in the sun, the white-winged gleam?Of sea-birds in the slanting beam,?And far-off sails which flit before the south-wind free.
So when Time's veil shall fall asunder,?The soul may know?No fearful change, nor sudden wonder,?Nor sink the weight of mystery under,?But with the upward rise, and with the vastness grow.
And all we shrink from now may seem?No new revealing;?Familiar as our childhood's stream,?Or pleasant memory of a dream?The loved and cherished Past upon the new life stealing.
Serene and mild the untried light?May have its dawning;?And, as in summer's northern night?The evening and the dawn unite,?The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's new morning.
I sit alone; in foam and spray?Wave after wave?Breaks on the rocks which, stern and gray,?Shoulder the broken tide away,?Or murmurs