THE POET.

I was told yesterday by one with wise

Solemn aspect, and wrinkles 'bout his eyes,

That poetry is an idle trade, alack!

He had a good black coat upon his back,

And deemed himself respectable,—he said, too,

That he who verses writes will never do

Well in the world, that his character is gone,

And he himself no better than a drone.

So having said he walked away well pleased;—

Now that's a man, I say, whose mind's diseased.

Has he in summer ever watched a rose

Burst into blossoming, and as it grows

More and more beautiful, sweeten all the air

With its rich perfume,—poetry was there.

A sunbeam thrown across

The clouds, that makes them glow

With light ineffable

To eyes from earth below;

A small wave of the sea

When the vast ocean waits

The coming of the storm,

That slightly agitates

Its surface passing,—as

When of danger near

First made aware, the roused

Lion, though not in fear

Looks up, the watchfire then

Kindling in his eye,

His mane scarcely as yet

Moved, nor erected high

His head, but his proud glance

Circling keen, rapid, stern,—

There poetry is seen

By one that can discern.

A priest of Nature's own,

One she herself ordains,

The poet walks in brightness,

And still new blessings gains.

The sky above hath in it

More beauty to his sight,

Than to the world it shines

In its canopy of light.

The flowers his kindred are

That grow in fields remote;

They waken in his heart

The pure wellsprings of thought:

They speak to him alone

With low and whispering voice,

Like gentle maiden to

The lover of her choice.

And none but he can tell

What is it that they say,

For a most sweet communion

Is their's to cheer his way.

The ocean in its vastness,

He loves, too, as he sees

It driven by the tempest,

Or slumbering in the breeze.

It brings into his vision

The coming of that day,

When Time within Eternity

Shall merge itself away.

The forest trees antique

Are his familiar friends,

With the spirit of the woods

His own for ever blends:

And voices of the past,

With fancies of old times,

Do their murmurings recall

Which he fondly puts in rhymes.

Echoes of distant lands

Beyond the western sea,

Or in the burning east,

Where'er they chance to be,

Are brought to him at night

And cheer his spirit then,

When sleep forsakes the eyes

Of care-worn worldly men.

And ever for his kind

Doth his spirit warmly yearn,

And his verses speak of things

Which only he can learn.

The human heart, and all

Its feelings, hopes and fears,

All that it fondly loves,

All that it blindly fears,

Its sympathies, affections,

Its duties and desires,

All that its doubts foreshadow,

All that its pride inspires,

Its sorrows and its faintings,

Its buoyancy and glee,

Its passions and its promptings,

Its truth and constancy;

He knows, and can depicture,

For of the human mind

He is the chosen minister,

The prophet of his kind.

Such, yea and more, the poet is,

Had he had a choice

Of destinies, if in his fate

Had been heard his voice;

It might have been so that he had

Been a worldling born,

And looked solemn like his scorners,

And had gravely worn

A black coat too, of fashion's cut,

And smoothed trim his beard,

And shook his head wisely, and been

Sententious, and feared

The world's opinion, and condemned

Poetry as idle,

But in his vocation he can

Ne'er his feelings bridle.

His thoughts are in a stronger hand

Than his own, his mind

Has thinks passing in it still, that

Cannot be confined:

Like the birds flying as they list

Through the summer air,

Or the clouds driven by the breeze

Floating everywhere.