TO E. C.
WITH HERBERT'S POEMS.
Dost thou remember that fair summer's day,
As, sick and weary on my couch I lay,
Thou broughtst this little book, and didst diffuse
O'er my dark hour the light of Herbert's muse?
The "Elixir," and "True Hymn," were then thy choice,
And the high strain gained sweetness from thy voice.
The book, before that day to me unknown,
I took to heart at once, and made my own.
Three winters and three summers since have passed,
And bitter griefs the hearts of both have tried;
Thy sympathy is lost to me at last;
A dearer love has torn thee from my side;
Scenes, friends, to me unknown, now claim thy care;
No more thy joys or griefs I soothe or share;
No more thy lovely form my eye shall bless;
The gentle smile, the timid, mute caress,
No more shall break the icy chains which may my heart oppress.
New duties claim us both; indulgent Heaven
Ten years of mutual love to us had given;
The plants from early youth together grew,
Together all youth's sun and tempests knew.
At age mature arrived, thou, graceful vine!
Didst seek a sheltering tree round which to twine;
While I, like northern fir, must be content
To clasp the rock which gave my youth its scanty nourishment.
The world for which we sighed is with us now;
No longer musing on the why or how,
What really does exist we now must meet;
Life's dusty highway is beneath our feet;
Life's fainting pilgrims claim our ministry,
And the whole scene speaks stern reality.
Say, in the tasks reality has brought,
Keepst thou the plan that pleased thy childish thought?
Does Herbert's "Hymn" in thy heart echo now?
Herbert's "Elixir" in thy bosom glow?
In Herbert's "Temper" dost thou strive to be?
Does Herbert's "Pearl" seem the true pearl to thee?
O, if 'tis so, I have not prayed in vain!—
My friend, my sister, we shall meet again.
I dare not say that I am always true
To the vocation which my young thought knew;
But the Great Spirit blesses me, and still,
Though clouds may darken o'er the heavenly will,
Upon the hidden sun my thoughts can rest,
And oft the rainbow glitters in the west.
This earth no more seems all the world to me;
Before me shines a far eternity,
Whose laws to me, when thought is calmly poised,
Suffice, as they to angels have sufficed.
I know the thunder has not ceased to roll,
Not all the iron yet has pierced my soul;
I know no earthly honors wait for me,
No earthly love my heart shall satisfy.
Tears, of these eyes still oft the guests must be,
Long hours be borne, of chilling apathy;
Still harder teachings come to make me wise,
And life's best blood must seal the sacrifice.
But He who still seems nearer and more bright,
Nor from my seeking eye withholds his light,
Will not forsake me, for his pledge is given;
Virtue shall teach the soul its way to heaven.
O, pray for me, and I for thee will pray;
And more than loving words we used to say
Shall this avail. But little more we meet
In life—ah, how the years begin to fleet!
Ask—pray that I may seek beauty and truth,
In their high sphere we shall renew our youth.
On wings of steadfast faith there mayst thou soar,
And my soul fret at barriers no more!
MARGARET FULLER'S WORKS AND MEMOIRS.
WOMAN IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, and kindred papers relating to the Sphere, Condition, and Duties of Woman. Edited by her brother, Arthur B. Fuller, with an Introduction by Horace Greeley. In 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
ART, LITERATURE, AND THE DRAMA. 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
LIFE WITHOUT AND LIFE WITHIN; or, Reviews, Narratives, Essays, and Poems. 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
AT HOME AND ABROAD; or, Things and Thoughts in America and Europe. 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
MEMOIRS OF MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. By Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Henry Channing, and James Freeman Clarke. With Portrait and Appendix. 2 vols. 16mo. $3.00. Cheap edition. Two vols. in one. $1.50.