How can we thank thee for thy helpful cheer,
O master-spirit of the priests of earth?
By daily doing penance without fear,
Or resting satisfied in deeds of worth?
O no! 'Tis when we breathe love's atmosphere,
And live like thee the life of heavenly birth.
Boston, 1890.
[AT THE "PORTER MANSE."]
[That part of the Porter Manse containing the room referred to was built early in the last half of the seventeenth century. It was the house which Wenham (the first distinct township set off—in 1639—from Salem) gave to the second pastor of its church, Rev. Antipas Newman, who married, while living there, Governor Winthrop's daughter. It was bought by John Porter in 1703, and has remained in his family name without alienation to this day.]
Before a smouldering fire at twilight hour
I muse alone. The ancient room, low-beamed,
Holds for my ear thoughts voiced by forms that teemed
Two hundred years ago with life and power.
I breathe the essence of sweet joys that flower
In light of home; while life that only seemed
On history's page becomes the real, redeemed
From all the chaff that time fails not to shower.
Ah, such old places, holding through the years
Continuous life of man's activity,
Reveal a wealth beyond that which appears
In modern homes built e'er so lovingly.
Imbued so long with human hopes and fears,
Have they not claim to personality?