A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE.
I thought to hold thy memory as the sea
Holds in its heart a pale reflected moon,
Lost when the sunny radiance of noon
Dissolves the moonlight’s tender mystery.
Lo! thou art not her semblance in the seas,
But the fair moon herself, that near or far,
Orbed high in heaven as a shining star
Or hid from sight at love’s antipodes;—
Still sways the waters with love’s restless tides;
Not by her own will; no coquette is she,—
The lovely moon to whom I liken thee;—
For high above our earthly air she glides,
Unconscious as the waves that rise to greet
Her coming, of the mystery of God’s law
Compelling her those far-off waves to draw
Forever towards her whom they never meet.
A REMEMBERED CRITIC.
TO J. R. D.
Kind words, that greater kindness still implied
From one unused to praise, for one unknown
To him and to the world where he had grown
Less wont to cheer the artist than to chide;
And always in my heart I thought with pride
Some day to know him, and for him alone
Bring the fair finished work, that he might own—
“O friend, behold my full faith justified!”
Now he is dead! a man severe, they said
Who knew the critic; but around the spot
We call his grave, by some sweet memory led
Of kindred sweetness, violets have not
Refused to bloom; and one he had forgot
Wept suddenly to hear that he was dead.