Classic Poem

XI.

" Yet bitter days, methinks, have earned
A right to pluck with tears,
The flower that my rugged way
With God's own promise cheers;
And I will live one hour with thee,
To soothe my coming years.

XII.

" And if there be a future home,
As saintly hearts believe,
Where kindred souls with Freedom crowned,
Earth's destinies retrieve,
By the delight that fills us now,
Thou shalt my troth receive!

XIII.

" Then pledge me by thine eyes of truth,
And brow so nobly fair,
That, having at the fountain drank,
Thou wilt not linger there,
But henceforth silent hasten through
This valley of despair! "

XIV.

Far down upon the tufted shore,
A silver inlet lay,
That winds capriciously along
Until it meets the bay,
And o'er it flocks of blackbirds scream,
And sedges wave alway.

XV.

He led her to a fragile barque
That floated on the tide,
With the same hushed and fearful bliss
That to the altar-side,
When priest and kindred round it stand,
A lover leads his bride.

XVI.

They nestled in the open stern,
The moorings off he cast,
And as the green, impending hills
Seemed drifting slowly past,
They felt the rapture of a mood
Too heavenly to last.

XVII.

Her head upon his bosom fell,
Their pulses beat in time,
The balance of their restless hearts,
Like some exultant chime,
Then won from Earth's discordant tones,
An interlude sublime.

XVIII.

Now Sympathy's transcendent grace,
Its latent worth reveals,
He whispered thoughts whose lofty scope
Truth's inmost fount unseals;
She breathed the music unwares
That Hope from Memory steals.

XIX.

The lilies bowed their snowy cups
As sped the light wind by,
The scarlet maples flushed around,
And pine-boughs quivered nigh,
While fleecy clouds like sapphire blazed
Athwart the evening sky.

XX.

Their touch, like an enchanter's wand,
Each thrilled with glad alarm,
Their lips were rosy chalices
Yielding delicious balm,
And their pure eyes grew deep and still,
With Love's immortal calm.

XXI.

And as from chaos random stars
Into their orbits roll,
Or weary eagles homeward sweep,
And flutter to their goal,
They felt a holy impulse blend
The senses and the soul.

XXII.

Years have gone by; those pilgrims now
Life's colder rules obey,
Thenceforth they met as strangers meet,
But from that Autumn day,
The thirst of their divided hearts
Has never passed away.