FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   367   368   369   370   371   372   373   374   375   376   377   378   379   380   381   382   383   384   385   386   387   388   389   390   391  
392   393   394   395   396   397   398   399   400   401   402   403   404   405   406   407   408   409   410   411   412   413   414   415   416   >>   >|  
t long had place to prove This truth--to prove, and make thine own: "Thou hast been, shalt be, art, alone." Or, if not quite alone, yet they Which touch thee are unmating things-- Ocean and clouds and night and day; Lorn autumns and triumphant springs; And life, and others' joy and pain, And love, if love, of happier men. Of happier men--for they, at least, Have dreamed two human hearts might blend In one, and were through faith released From isolation without end Prolonged; nor knew, although not less Alone than thou, their loneliness. Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone. The islands feel the enclasping flow, And then their endless bounds they know. But when the moon their hollow lights, And they are swept by balms of spring, And in their glens, on starry nights, The nightingales divinely sing; And lovely notes, from shore to shore, Across the sounds and channels pour-- Oh! then a longing like despair Is to their farthest caverns sent; For surely once, they feel, we were Parts of a single continent! Now round us spreads the watery plain-- Oh, might our marges meet again! Who ordered that their longing's fire Should be, as soon as kindled, cooled? Who renders vain their deep desire?-- A God, a God their severance ruled! And bade betwixt their shores to be The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea STANZAS IN MEMORY OF THE AUTHOR OF 'OBERMANN' (1849) In front the awful Alpine track Crawls up its rocky stair; The autumn storm-winds drive the rack, Close o'er it, in the air. Behind are the abandoned baths Mute in their meadows lone; The leaves are on the valley-paths, The mists are on the Rhone-- The white mists rolling like a sea! I hear the torrents roar. --Yes, Obermann, all speaks of thee; I feel thee near once more. I turn thy leaves! I feel their breath Once more upon me roll; That air of languor, cold, and death, Which brooded o'er thy soul. Fly hence, poor wretch, whoe'er thou art, Condemned to cast about, All shipwreck in thy own weak heart, For
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   367   368   369   370   371   372   373   374   375   376   377   378   379   380   381   382   383   384   385   386   387   388   389   390   391  
392   393   394   395   396   397   398   399   400   401   402   403   404   405   406   407   408   409   410   411   412   413   414   415   416   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

happier

 

leaves

 
watery
 

longing

 

betwixt

 

shores

 

unplumbed

 

shipwreck

 

STANZAS

 
estranging

AUTHOR

 

OBERMANN

 
MEMORY
 

ordered

 

marges

 
spreads
 

Should

 

desire

 

severance

 

kindled


cooled

 
renders
 

speaks

 

wretch

 

Obermann

 
rolling
 

torrents

 
breath
 

brooded

 
languor

autumn
 

Condemned

 

Crawls

 
meadows
 

valley

 

abandoned

 
Behind
 

Alpine

 

dreamed

 
hearts

Prolonged

 

released

 
isolation
 

springs

 

autumns

 

triumphant

 
clouds
 
unmating
 

things

 
divinely