  In the silence of my chamber, When the night is still and deep, And the drowsy heave of ocean Mutters in its charmÈd sleep, Oft I hear the angel voices That have thrill'd me long ago,— Voices of my lost companions, Lying deep beneath the snow. O, the garden I remember, In the gay and sunny spring, When our laughter made the thickets And the arching alleys ring! O the merry burst of gladness! O the soft and tender tone! O the whisper never utter'd Save to one fond ear alone! O the light of life that sparkled In those bright and bounteous eyes! O the blush of happy beauty, Tell-tale of the heart's surprise! O the radiant light that girdled Field and forest, land and sea, When we all were young together, And the earth was new to me! Where are now the flowers we tended? Wither'd, broken, branch and stem; Where are now the hopes we cherish'd? Scatter'd to the winds with them. For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones! Nursed in hope and rear'd in love, Looking fondly ever upward To the clear blue heaven above: Smiling on the sun that cheer'd us, Rising lightly from the rain, Never folding up your freshness Save to give it forth again: Never shaken, save by accents From a tongue that was not free, As the modest blossom trembles At the wooing of the bee. O! 'tis sad to lie and reckon All the days of faded youth, All the vows that we believed in, All the words we spoke in truth. Sever'd—were it sever'd only By an idle thought of strife, Such as time might knit together; Not the broken chord of life! O my heart! that once so truly Kept another's time and tune, Heart, that kindled in the spring-tide, Look around thee in the noon. Where are they who gave the impulse To thy earliest thought and flow? Look around the ruin'd garden— All are wither'd, dropp'd, or low! Seek the birth-place of the lily, Dearer to the boyish dream Than the golden cups of Eden, Floating on its slumbrous stream; Never more shalt thou behold her— She, the noblest, fairest, best: She that rose in fullest beauty, Like a queen, above the rest. Only still I keep her image As a thought that cannot die, He who raised the shade of Helen Had no greater power than I. O! I fling my spirit backward, And I pass o'er years of pain; All I loved is rising round me, All the lost returns again. Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes, Warmly as ye did before! Bloom again, ye happy gardens, With the radiant tints of yore! Warble out in spray and thicket, All ye choristers unseen, Let the leafy woodland echo With an anthem to its queen! Lo! she cometh in her beauty, Stately with a Juno grace, Raven locks, Madonna-braided O'er her sweet and blushing face: Eyes of deepest violet, beaming With the love that knows not shame,— Lips, that thrill my inmost being With the utterance of a name. And I bend the knee before her, As a captive ought to bow,— Pray thee, listen to my pleading, Sovereign of my soul art thou! O my dear and gentle lady, Let me show thee all my pain, Ere the words that late were prison'd Sink into my heart again. Love, they say, is very fearful Ere its curtain be withdrawn, Trembling at the thought of error As the shadows scare the fawn. Love hath bound me to thee, lady, Since the well-remember'd day When I first beheld thee coming In the light of lustrous May. Not a word I dared to utter— More than he who, long ago, Saw the heavenly shapes descending Over Ida's slopes of snow: When a low and solemn music Floated through the listening grove, And the throstle's song was silenced, And the doling of the dove: When immortal beauty open'd All its grace to mortal sight, And the awe of worship blended With the throbbing of delight. As the shepherd stood before them Trembling in the Phrygian dell, Even so my soul and being Own'd the magic of the spell; And I watch'd thee, ever fondly, Watch'd thee, dearest, from afar, With the mute and humble homage Of the Indian to a star. Thou wert still the Lady Flora In her morning garb of bloom; Where thou wert was light and glory, Where thou wert not, dearth and gloom. So for many a day I follow'd
For a long and weary while, Ere my heart rose up to bless thee For the yielding of a smile,— |
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