The Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A sick man wakes at his own mouth's wail;
A gossip coughs in her thrice-told tale;
A muttering gamester shakes the dice;
A reaper foretells good luck from the skies;
A monarch vows as he lifts his hand to them,
A patriot leaving his native land to them,
Invokes the world against perjured state;
A priest disserts upon linen skirts;
A sinner screams for one hope more ;
A dancer's feet do palpitate

A piper's music out on the floor;
And nigh to the awful Dead, the living
Low speech and stealthy steps are giving,
Because he cannot hear;

And he who on that narrow bier
Has room enow, is closely wound

In a silence piercing more than sound.

III.

Hearken, hearken!

God speaketh to thy soul;

Using the supreme voice which doth confound All life with consciousness of Deity,

All senses into one;

As the seer-saint of Patmos, loving John,
For whom did backward roll

The cloud-gate of the future, turned to see
The Voice which spake. It speaketh now-
Through the regular breath of the calm creation,
Through the moan of the creature's desolation,
Striking, and in its stroke, resembling

The memory of a solemn vow,

Which pierceth the din of a festival

To one in the midst,—and he letteth fall

The cup, with a sudden trembling.

IV.

Hearken, hearken!

God speaketh in thy soul;

Saying, "O thou, that movest

With feeble steps across this earth of Mine,

To break beside the fount thy golden bowl,
And spill its purple wine,—

Look up to heaven, and see how like a scroll
My right hand hath thine immortality
In an eternal grasping! Thou, that lovest
The songful birds and grasses underfoot,
And also what change mars, and tombs pollute-
I am the end of love !—give love to Me!
O thou that sinnest, grace doth more abound
Than all thy sin! sit still beneath My rood,
And count the droppings of My victim-blood,
And seek none other sound!

Hearken, hearken !

Shall we hear the lapsing river
And our brother's sighing, ever,
And not the voice of God?

THE WEAKEST THING.

WHICH is the weakest thing of all
Mine heart can ponder?
The sun, a little cloud can pall

With darkness yonder?

The cloud, a little wind can move

Where'er it listeth?

The wind, a little leaf above,

Though sere, resisteth?

II.

What time that yellow leaf was green,

My days were gladder;

But now, whatever Spring may mean,

I must grow sadder.

Ah me! a leaf with sighs can wring
My lips asunder—

Then is mine heart the weakest thing
Itself can ponder.

III.

Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined,

And drop together,

And at a blast which is not wind,

The forests wither,

Thou, from the darkening deathly curse,

To glory breakest, —
The Strongest of the universe
Guarding the weakest !

II.

But since to him, when living,
Thou wert both sun and moon,
Look o'er his grave, surviving,
From a high sphere alone!
Sustain that exultation—
Expand that tender light;
And hold in mother-passion,

Thy Blessed, in thy sight.
See how he went out straightway
From the dark world he knew,-
No twilight in the gateway

To mediate 'twixt the two,Into the sudden glory,

Out of the dark he trod,
Departing from before thee
At once to Light and GOD!—
For the first face, beholding

The Christ's in its divine,-
For the first place, the golden
And tideless hyaline;
With trees, at lasting summer,
That rock to songful sound,
While angels, the new-comer,
Wrap a still smile around.

Oh, in the blessed psalm now,
His happy voice he tries,-
Spreading a thicker palm-bough,
Than others, o'er his eyes,-
Yet still, in all the singing,
Thinks haply of thy song,
Which, in his life's first springing,
Sang to him all night long,—
And wishes it beside him,

With kissing lips that cool
And soft did overglide him,—

To make the sweetness full. Look up, O mourning mother;

Thy blind boy walks in light! Ye wait for one another,

Before God's infinite! But thou art now the darkest, Thou mother left belowThou, the sole blind,-thou markest,

Content that it be so ;Until ye two give meeting Where Heaven's pearl-gate is, And he shall lead thy feet in, As once thou leddest his. Wait on, thou mourning mother.

A VALEDICTION.

GOD be with thee, my beloved,-GOD be with thee! Else alone thou goest forth,

Thy face unto the north,—

Moor and pleasance, all around thee and beneath thee,

Looking equal in one snow:

While I who try to reach thee,

Vainly follow, vainly follow,
With the farewell and the hollo,
And cannot reach thee so.

Alas! I can but teach thee—

God be with thee, my beloved,-GOD be with thee!

« Anterior Continuar »

Libros

The Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning: With Memoir, Etc