Chapter 28

THE COMING OF NIGHT.

How the old mountains drip with sunset, And the brake of dun! How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel By the wizard sun!

How the old steeples hand the scarlet, Till the ball is full, — Have I the lip of the flamingo That I dare to tell?

Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, Touching all the grass With a departing, sapphire feature, As if a duchess pass!

How a small dusk crawls on the village Till the houses blot; And the odd flambeaux no men carry Glimmer on the spot!

Now it is night in nest and kennel, And where was the wood, Just a dome of abyss is nodding Into solitude! —

These are the visions baffled Guido; Titian never told; Domenichino dropped the pencil, Powerless to unfold.

XXIX.

AFTERMATH.

The murmuring of bees has ceased; But murmuring of some Posterior, prophetic, Has simultaneous come, —

The lower metres of the year, When nature's laugh is done, — The Revelations of the book Whose Genesis is June.

IV. TIME AND ETERNITY.

I.

This world is not conclusion; A sequel stands beyond, Invisible, as music, But positive, as sound. It beckons and it baffles; Philosophies don't know, And through a riddle, at the last, Sagacity must go. To guess it puzzles scholars; To gain it, men have shown Contempt of generations, And crucifixion known.

II.

We learn in the retreating How vast an one Was recently among us. A perished sun

Endears in the departure How doubly more Than all the golden presence It was before!

III.

They say that 'time assuages,' — Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age.

Time is a test of trouble, But not a remedy. If such it prove, it prove too There was no malady.

IV.

We cover thee, sweet face. Not that we tire of thee, But that thyself fatigue of us; Remember, as thou flee, We follow thee until Thou notice us no more, And then, reluctant, turn away To con thee o'er and o'er, And blame the scanty love We were content to show, Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold If thou would'st take it now.

V.

ENDING.

That is solemn we have ended, — Be it but a play, Or a glee among the garrets, Or a holiday,

Or a leaving home; or later, Parting with a world We have understood, for better Still it be unfurled.

VI.

The stimulus, beyond the grave His countenance to see, Supports me like imperial drams Afforded royally.

VII.

Given in marriage unto thee, Oh, thou celestial host! Bride of the Father and the Son, Bride of the Holy Ghost!

Other betrothal shall dissolve, Wedlock of will decay; Only the keeper of this seal Conquers mortality.

VIII.

That such have died enables us The tranquiller to die; That such have lived, certificate For immortality.

IX.

They won't frown always, — some sweet day When I forget to tease, They'll recollect how cold I looked, And how I just said 'please.'

Then they will hasten to the door To call the little child, Who cannot thank them, for the ice That on her lisping piled.

X.

IMMORTALITY.

It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one's hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street,

That we've immortal place, Though pyramids decay, And kingdoms, like the orchard, Flit russetly away.

XI.

The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear; Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year.

And then, that we have followed them We more than half suspect, So intimate have we become With their dear retrospect.