A SPIRIT'S REPROACH.
I stood beside the altar with a friend,
To hear him plight his faith to a young bride,
A rosy child of simple heart and mind.
Yet two short years before, on that same spot,
I heard the funeral chant above the bier
Of a first wife—a woman bright as fair,
Or blessed or cursed with genius, full of fire—
Who loved him with a passion high and rare;
Whom he had won from paths of fame and art
To walk unknown life's quiet ways with him.
My mind was with the past, when the loud swell
Of music rose to greet the childlike bride,
The organ quivering as with solemn joy:
Alas! another voice breathed through it all,
Reproachful, haughty, wild, but very sad;
Near, though its tones fell from that farthest shore,
Where the eternal surge beats time no more!
Sadly I gazed upon my friend, to mark
If his new joys were quelled by the weird strains:
He heard it not—he only saw the face,
Blushing and girlish, 'neath its bridal veil;
Saw not the stronger spirit standing by,
With immortelles upon its massive front,
And drooping wings adown its snowy shroud,
And sense of wrong dewing its starry eye;
Nor heard the chant of agony, reproach,
Chilling the naïve joy of the marriage song.
* * *
'Say, canst thou woo another for thy bride,
Whilst I am living—ever near thee still!
Renounce the faith so often pledged to me,
Forget me, while I dream of thee in heaven!
When the word love first fell upon my ear,
I was a dreamer wrapped in pleasant thoughts,
Dwelling in themes apart from common life,
Nor needed aught for bliss save my still hours,
My studies, and the poet's golden lyre.
The stars revealed to me their trackless paths,
The flowers whispered me their secrets sweet,
And science oped her ways of calm and light.
Yet love, like ancient scroll, was closely rolled;
I had no wish to read its mystic page;
Its wooing wakened in me wondering scorn,
Its homage insult to my virgin pride;
If lovers knelt, 'twas but to be denied.
And yet it pleased to know myself so fair,
Because I loved the Beautiful. We met!
Dark, fierce, and full of power thy features were,
Yet finely cut, chiselled and sculptured well,
Reminding me of antique demigod.
The dream of the wild Greek, maddened with light
From Beauty's sun, before me living stood.
Ah! not of marble were thy features pale!
Like summer's lightning, lights and shadows danced
As feelings surged within thy stormful soul.
Full of high thoughts and poetry wert thou:
I left the paths of thought to hear thee speak
Of love and its devotion, endless truth.
All nature glowed with sudden, roseate light;
The waves of ocean, mountains, forests dim,
The waterfall, the flower, the clinging moss,
Were woven in types of purity and peace,
To etherealize and beautify thy love.
Marriage of souls, eternal constancy,
Gave wildering love new worth and dignity.
My maiden pride was soothed, and if I felt
Repelled by human passion, still I joyed
In sacrifice that made me wholly thine.
We wedded—and I rested on thy heart,
Counted its throbs, and when I sadly thought
They measured out the fleeting sands of life,
I smiled at Time—Love lives eternally!
I was not blind to my advantages,
Yet I became a humble household dove,
Smoothing to thy caress the eager wings
Which might have borne me through the universe.
All wealth seemed naught; had stars been in my gift,
I would have thrown them reckless all to thee!
Two happy years—how swift they fleeted by!—
And then I felt a fluttering, restless life
Throbbing beneath my heart; and with it knew
(I ne'er could tell you how such knowledge came)
That I must die! A moment's dread and pang
O'ercame me—then the bitter thought grew sweet:
My passing agony would win the boon
Of life immortal for our infant's soul;
The innocent being, through whose veins would flow
Our mingling hearts for ever—ever—one!
We spoke of death, and of eternal life;
Many and fond the vows then pledged to me:
'If cruel death must sever us on earth,
Rest calmly on my never-changing love;
Now and forever it is solely thine!
Thou art my soul's elect—my Bride in Heaven!'
So deeply did I trust thy plighted faith,
I nerved my ardent soul to bear it all,
And calmly saw the fated hour approach,
Nor quailed before the pangs of death to give
Our living love to a fond father's kiss:
Smiling I placed him in thy arms—then died.
The songs of angels wooed me high above,
But my firm soul refused to leave its loves!
I won the boon from heaven to hover near,
To count the palpitations of thy heart,
And speak, unseen, to thee in varied ways.
I breathed to thee in music's plaintive tones,
I floated round thee in the breath of flowers,
I wooed thee in the poet's tender page,
And through the blue eyes of our orphaned child
I gazed upon thee with the buried love
So fraught with faith and haunting memories.
With spirit power I ranged the world of thought
To twine thee with the blue 'Forget me not!'
* * *
Oh, God! thine eye seeks now a fresher face,
Thy voice has won another's earnest love,
Her head rests on the heart once pledged to me,
And I have poured my worship on the dust!
He loves again, and yet I gave him all—
Been proud—is this 'the worm that never dies?'
Ah, what am I?—a ruined wreck adrift
Upon a surging sea of endless pain!
Are human hearts all fickle, faithless, base?
Does levity brand all of mortal race?
When we shall meet within the Spirit's land,
How wilt thou bear my sorrow, my despair?
Wilt strive to teach me there thy new-found lore—
Forgetfulness? I could not learn the task!
Wilt seek to link again our broken ties?
Away! I would not stoop my haughty brow
To thing so false as thou! I love—yet scorn!
We give ourselves with purity but once;
The love of soul yields not to change of state;
Heaven's life news the broken ties of earth;
There is no death! all that has truly lived,
Lives ever; feeling cannot die; it blooms
Immortal as the soul from which it springs!
Why do I shrink to own the bitter truth?
I never have been loved—'twas mockery all!'
* * *