Thou chemist of storms, whether driving the winds a-swirlOr a-flicker the subtiler essences polar that whirlIn the magnet earth,—yea, thou with a storm for a heart,Rent with debate, many-spotted with question, partFrom part oft sundered, yet ever a globed light,Yet ever the artist, ever more large and brightThan the eye of a man may avail of:—manifold One,I must pass from thy face, I must pass from the face of the Sun:
Old Want is awake and agog, every wrinkle a-frown;The worker must pass to his work in the terrible town:But I fear not, nay, and I fear not the thing to be done;I am strong with the strength of my lord the Sun:How dark, how dark soever the race that must needs be run,I am lit with the Sun.
Oh, never the mast-high run of the seasOf traffic shall hide thee,Never the hell-colored smoke of the factoriesHide thee,Never the reek of the time's fen-politicsHide thee,And ever my heart through the night shall with knowledge abide thee,And ever by day shall my spirit, as one that hath tried thee,Labor, at leisure, in art,—till yonder beside theeMy soul shall float, friend Sun,The day being done.
For a general introduction to Lanier's poetry, see Chapter V.
[Footnote 1: This poem was first published inScott's Magazine, Atlanta, Georgia, from which it is here taken. It at once became popular, and was copied in many newspapers throughout the South. It was subsequently revised, and the changes, which are pointed out below, are interesting as showing the development of the poet's artistic sense.
The singularly rapid and musical lilt of this poem may be readily traced to its sources. It is due to the skillful use of short vowels, liquid consonants, internal rhyme, and constant alliteration. These are matters of technique which Lanier studiously employed throughout his poetry.
This poem abounds in seeming irregularities of meter. The fundamental measure is iambic tetrameter, as in the line—
"The rushes cried,Abide, abide";
but trochees, dactyls, or anapests are introduced in almost every line, yet without interfering with the time element of the verse. These irregularities were no doubt introduced in order to increase the musical effects.]
[Footnote 2: As may be seen by reference to a map, the Chattahoochee rises in Habersham County, in northeastern Georgia, and in its south- westerly course passes through the adjoining county of Hall. Its entire length is about five hundred miles.]
[Footnote 3: Changed in the revision to "I hurry amain," with the present tense of the following verbs. The pronoun "his" in line 6 becomes "my."]
[Footnote 4: This line was changed to—
"The laving laurel turned my tide."]
[Footnote 5: In this line the use of a needless antiquated form may be fairly questioned. In the revised form "win" is changed to "work."]
[Footnote 6: "Barred" is changed to "did bar" in the revision—a doubtful gain.]
[Footnote 7: The preceding four lines show a decided poetic gain in the revised form:—
"And many a luminous jewel lone—Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,Ruby, garnet, and amethyst—Made lures with the lightnings of streaming stone."]
[Footnote 8: The revised form, with an awkward pause after the first foot, and also a useless antiquated phrase, reads—
"Avail! I am fain for to water the plain."]
[Footnote 9: Changed to "myriad of flowers."]
[Footnote 10: "Final" was changed to "lordly" with fine effect. This poem challenges comparison with other pieces of similar theme. It lacks the exquisite workmanship of Tennyson'sThe Brook, with its incomparable onomatopoeic effects:—
"I chatter over stony ways,In little sharps and trebles;I bubble into eddying bays,I babble on the pebbles."
It should be compared with Hayne'sThe Riverand also with hisTheMeadow Brook:—
"Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,Hark! the tiny swell;Of wavelets softly, silverlyToned like a fairy bell,Whose every note, dropped sweetlyIn mellow glamour round,Echo hath caught and harvestedIn airy sheaves of sound!"
ButThe Song of the Chattahoocheehas what the other poems lack, —a lofty moral purpose. The noble stream consciously resists the allurements of pleasure to heed "the voices of duty," and this spirit imparts to it a greater dignity and weight.]
[Footnote 11: This poem appeared in The Independent, July 15, 1880, from which it is taken. It illustrates the intellectual rather than the musical side of Lanier's genius. It is purely didactic, and thought rather than melody guides the poet's pen. The meter is quite regular,—an unusual thing in our author's most characteristic work.
It shows Lanier's use of pentameter blank verse,—a use that is somewhat lacking in ease and clearness. The first sentence is longer than that of Paradise Lost, without Milton's unity and force. Such ponderous sentences are all too frequent in Lanier, and as a result he is sometimes obscure. Repeated readings are necessary to take in the full meaning of his best work.
This poem, though not bearing the distinctive marks of his genius, is peculiarly interesting for two reasons,—it gives us an insight into his wide range of reading and study, and it exhibits his penetration and sanity as a critic. In the long list of great names he never fails to put his finger on the vulnerable spot. Frequently he is exceedingly felicitous, as when he speaks of "rapt Behmen, rapt too far," or of "Emerson, Most wise, that yet, in finding Wisdom, lost Thy Self sometimes."]
[Footnote 12: It will be remembered that Lanier was a careful student ofShakespeare, on whom he lectured to private classes in Baltimore.]
[Footnote 13: See second part ofKing Henry IV, iii. I. The passage which the poet had in mind begins:—
"How many thousand of my poorest subjectsAre at this hour asleep!"]
[Footnote 14: SeeThe Two Gentlemen of Verona.]
[Footnote 15: These characters are found as follows: Viola inTwelfthNight; Julia inThe Two Gentlemen of Verona; Portia inTheMerchant of Venice; and Rosalind inAs You Like It.]
[Footnote 16: Referring to the well-known catalogue of ships in theSecond Book of the Illiad:—
"My song to fame shall giveThe chieftains, and enumerate their ships."
It is in this passage in particular that Homer is supposed to nod.]
[Footnote 17: It will be recalled that Paris, son of Priam, king of Troy,persuaded Helen, the fairest of women and wife of King Menelaus ofGreece, to elope with him to Troy. This incident gave rise to the famousTrojan War.]
[Footnote 18: Socrates (469-399 B.C.) was an Athenian philosopher, of whom Cicero said that he "brought down philosophy from the heavens to the earth." His teachings are preserved in Xenophon'sMemorabiliaand Plato'sDialogues.]
[Footnote 19: That is to say, his needless austerity was as much affected as the dandy's excessive and ostentatious refinement.]
[Footnote 20: Buddha, meaningthe enlightened one, was Prince Siddhartha of Hindustan, who died about 477 B.C. He was the founder of the Buddhist religion, which teaches that the supreme attainment of mankind is Nirvana or extinction. This doctrine naturally follows from the Buddhist assumption that life is hopelessly evil. Many of the moral precepts of Buddhism are closely akin to those of Christianity.]
[Footnote 21: Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), a native of Florence, is the greatest poet of Italy and one of the greatest poets of the world. His immortal poem,The Divine Comedy, is divided into three parts —"Hell," "Purgatory," and "Paradise."]
[Footnote 22: This is a reference to the wars among the angels, which ended with the expulsion of Satan and his hosts from heaven, as related in the sixth book of Paradise Lost. This criticism of Milton is as just as it is felicitous.]
[Footnote 23: Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was the father of Greek tragedy. He presentsdestinyin its sternest aspects. HisPrometheus Boundhas been translated by Mrs. Browning, and hisAgamemnonby Robert Browning—two dramas that exhibit his grandeur and power at their best.]
[Footnote 24: Lucretius (about 95-51 B.C.) was the author of a didactic poem in six books entitledDe Rerum Natura. It is Epicurean in morals and atheistic in philosophy. At the same time, as a work of art, it is one of the most perfect poems that have descended to us from antiquity.]
[Footnote 25: Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121-180 A.D.), one of the best emperors of Rome, was a noble Stoic philosopher. HisMeditationsis regarded by John Stuart Mill as almost equal to the Sermon on the Mount in moral elevation.]
[Footnote 26: Thomas a Kempis (1379-1471) was the author of the famousImitation of Christin which, as Dean Milman says, "is gathered and concentered all that is elevating, passionate, profoundly pious in all the older mystics." No other book, except the Bible, has been so often translated and printed.]
[Footnote 27: Epictetus (born about 50 A.D.) was a Stoic philosopher, many of whose moral teachings resemble those of Christianity. But he unduly emphasized renunciation, and wished to restrict human aspiration to the narrow limits of the attainable.]
[Footnote 28: Jacob Behmen, or Böhme (1575-1624), was a devout mystic philosopher, whose speculations, containing much that was beautiful and profound, sometimes passed the bounds of intelligibility.]
[Footnote 29: Emanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772) was a Swedish philosopher and theologian. His principal work,Arcana Caelestia, is made up of profound speculations and spiritualistic extravagance. He often oversteps the bounds of sanity.]
[Footnote 30: William Langland, or Langley (about 1332-1400), a disciple of Wycliffe, was a poet, whoseVision of Piers Plowman, written in strong, alliterative verse, describes, in a series of nine visions, the manifold corruptions of society, church, and state in England.]
[Footnote 31: Caedmon (lived about 670) was a cowherd attached to the monastery of Whitby in England. Later he became a poet, and wrote on Scripture themes in his native Anglo-Saxon. HisParaphrase, is, next toBeowulf, the oldest Anglo-Saxon poem in existence.]
[Footnote 32: Lanier was deeply religious, but his beliefs were broader than any creed. InRemonstrancehe exclaims,—
"Opinion, let me alone: I am not thine.Prim Creed, with categoric point, forbearTo feature me my Lord by rule and line."
Yet, as shown in the conclusion ofThe Crystalhe had an exalted sense of the unapproachable beauty of the life and teachings of Christ. His tenderest poem isA Ballad of Trees and the Master:—
"Into the woods my Master went,Clean forspent, forspent.Into the woods my Master came,Forspent with love and shame.But the olives they were not blind to Him,The little gray leaves were kind to Him;The thorn-tree had a mind to Him,When into the woods He came.
"Out of the woods my Master went,And He was well content.Out of the woods my Master came,Content with death and shame.When Death and Shame would woo Him last,From under the trees they drew Him last:'Twas on a tree they slew Him—lastWhen out of the woods He came."]
[Footnote 33: This poem was first published inThe Independent, December 14, 1882, from which it is here taken. The editor said, "This poem, we do not hesitate to say, is one of the few great poems that have been written on this side of the ocean." With this judgment there will be general agreement on the part of appreciative readers. On the emotional side, it may be said to reach the high-water mark of poetic achievement in this country. Its emotion at times reaches the summits of poetic rapture; a little more, and it would have passed into the boundary of hysterical ecstasy.
The circumstances of its composition possess a melancholy interest. It was Lanier's last and greatest poem. He penciled it a few months before his death when he was too feeble to raise his food to his mouth and when a burning fever was consuming him. Had he not made this supreme effort, American literature would be the poorer. This poem exhibits, in a high degree, the poet's love for Nature. Indeed, most of his great pieces—The Marshes of Glynn, Clover, Corn, and others—are inspired by the sights and sounds of Nature.Sunrise, in general tone and style, closely resemblesThe Marshes of Glynn.
The musical theories of Lanier in relation to poetry find their highest exemplification inSunrise. It is made up of all the poetic feet —iambics, trochees, dactyls, anapests—so that it almost defies any attempt at scansion. But the melody of the verse never fails; equality of time is observed, along with a rich use of alliteration and assonance.
The poem may be easily analyzed; and a distinct notation of its successive themes may be helpful to the young reader. Its divisions are marked by its irregular stanzas. It consists of fifteen parts as follows: 1. The call of the marshes to the poet in his slumbers, and his awaking. 2. He comes as a lover to the live-oaks and marshes. 3. His address to the "man-bodied tree," and the "cunning green leaves." 4. His petition for wisdom and for a prayer of intercession. 5. The stirring of the owl. 6. Address to the "reverend marsh, distilling silence." 7. Description of the full tide. 8. "The bow-and-string tension of beauty and silence." 9. The motion of dawn. 10. The golden flush of the eastern sky. 11. The sacramental marsh at worship. 12. The slow rising of the sun above the sea horizon. 13. Apostrophe to heat. 14. The worker must pass from the contemplation of this splendor to his toil. 15. The poet's inextinguishable adoration of the sun.]
[Footnote 34: "Gospeling glooms" means glooms that convey to the sensitive spirit sweet messages of good news.]
[Footnote 35: Lanier continually attributes personality to the objects of Nature, and places them in tender relations to man. Here the little leaves become—
"Friendly, sisterly, sweetheart leaves,"
as a few lines before they were "little masters." InIndividualitywe read,—
"Sail on, sail on, fair cousin Cloud."
And inCornthere is a passage of great tenderness:—
"The leaves that wave against my cheek caressLike women's hands; the embracing boughs expressA subtlety of mighty tenderness;The copse-depths into little noises start,That sound anon like beatings of a heart,Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart."]
[Footnote 36: This passage is Wordsworthian in spirit. Nature is regarded as a teacher who suggests or reveals ineffable things. Lanier might have said, as did Wordsworth,—
"To me the meanest flower that blows can giveThoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."]
[Footnote 37: Lanier had a lively and vigorous imagination, which is seen in his use of personification and metaphor. In this poem almost every object—trees, leaves, marsh, streams, sun, heat—is personified. This same fondness for personification may be observed in his other characteristic poems.
In the use of metaphor it may be doubted whether the poet is always so happy. There is sometimes inaptness or remoteness in his resemblances. To liken the naming heavens to a beehive, and the rising sun to a bee issuing from the "hive-hole," can hardly be said to add dignity to the description.
InClovermen are clover heads, which the Course-of-things, as an ox, browses upon:—
"This cool, unasking OxComes browsing o'er my hills and vales of Time,And thrusts me out his tongue, and curls it, sharp,And sicklewise, about my poets' heads,And twists them in….and champs and chews,With slantly-churning jaws and swallows down."]
[Footnote 38: The deities of Olympus, being immortal, have no need of strenuous haste. They may well move from pleasure to pleasure with stately leisure.]
* * * * *
I walk down the Valley of Silence—[2]Down the dim, voiceless valley—alone!And I hear not the fall of a footstepAround me, save God's and my own;And the hush of my heart is as holyAs hovers where angels have flown!
Long ago was I weary of voicesWhose music my heart could not win;Long ago was I weary of noisesThat fretted my soul with their din;Long ago was I weary of placesWhere I met but the human—and sin.[3]
I walked in the world with the worldly;I craved what the world never gave;And I said: "In the world each Ideal,That shines like a star on life's wave,Is wrecked on the shores of the Real,And sleeps like a dream in a grave."
And still did I pine for the Perfect,And still found the False with the True;I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven,But caught a mere glimpse of its Blue;And I wept when the clouds of the MortalVeiled even that glimpse from my view.
And I toiled on, heart-tired of the Human,And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men,Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar,And I heard a voice call me. Since thenI walked down the Valley of SilenceThat lies far beyond mortal ken.
Do you ask what I found in the Valley?'Tis my Trysting Place with the Divine.And I fell at the feet of the Holy,And above me a voice said: "Be Mine."And there arose from the depths of my spiritAn echo—"My heart shall be thine."
Do you ask how I live in the Valley?I weep—and I dream—and I pray.But my tears are as sweet as the dewdropsThat fall on the roses in May;And my prayer like a perfume from censers,Ascendeth to God night and day.
In the hush of the Valley of SilenceI dream all the songs that I sing;[4]And the music floats down the dim Valley,Till each finds a word for a wing,That to hearts, like the dove of the delugeA message of peace they may bring.
But far on the deep there are billowsThat never shall break on the beach;And I have heard songs in the SilenceThat never shall float into speech;And I have had dreams in the ValleyToo lofty for language to reach.
And I have seen thoughts in the Valley—Ah me! how my spirit was stirred!And they wear holy veils on their faces,Their footsteps can scarcely be heard:They pass through the Valley like virgins,Too pure for the touch of a word![5]
Do you ask me the place of the Valley,Ye hearts that are harrowed by care?It lieth afar between mountains,And God and His angels are there:And one is the dark mount of Sorrow,And one the bright mountain of Prayer.
Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary;Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary;Furl it, fold it, it is best;For there's not a man to wave it,And there's not a sword to save it,And there's not one left to lave itIn the blood which heroes gave it;And its foes now scorn and brave it;Furl it, hide it—let it rest![7]
Take that Banner down! 'tis tattered;Broken is its staff and shattered;And the valiant hosts are scatteredOver whom it floated high.Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it;Hard to think there's none to hold it;Hard that those who once unrolled itNow must furl it with a sigh.
Furl that Banner! furl it sadly!Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,And ten thousands wildly, madly,Swore it should forever wave;Swore that foeman's sword should neverHearts like theirs entwined dissever,Till that flag should float foreverO'er their freedom or their grave!
Furl it! for the hands that grasped it,And the hearts that fondly clasped it,Cold and dead are lying low;And that Banner—it is trailing!While around it sounds the wailingOf its people in their woe.
For, though conquered, they adore it!Love the cold, dead hands that bore it!Weep for those who fell before it!Pardon those who trailed and tore it![8]But, oh! wildly they deplore it,Now who furl and fold it so.
Furl that Banner! True, 'tis gory,Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory,And 'twill live in song and story,Though its folds are in the dust:For its fame on brightest pages,Penned by poets and by sages,Shall go sounding down the ages—
Furl its folds though now we must.Furl that Banner, softly, slowly!Treat it gently—it is holy—For it droops above the dead.Touch it not—unfold it never,Let it droop there, furled forever,For its people's hopes are dead![9]
Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright,Flashed the sword of Lee!Far in the front of the deadly fight,High o'er the brave in the cause of Right,Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light,Led us to victory.
Out of its scabbard, where full longIt slumbered peacefully,Roused from its rest by the battle's song,Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong,Guarding the right, avenging the wrong,Gleamed the sword of Lee.
Forth from its scabbard, high in airBeneath Virginia's sky—And they who saw it gleaming there,And knew who bore it, knelt to swearThat where that sword led they would dareTo follow—and to die.
Out of its scabbard! Never handWaved sword from stain as free;Nor purer sword led braver band,Nor braver bled for a brighter land,Nor brighter land had a cause so grand,Nor cause a chief like Lee![11]
Forth from its scabbard! How we prayedThat sword might victor be;And when our triumph was delayed,And many a heart grew sore afraid,We still hoped on while gleamed the bladeOf noble Robert Lee.
Forth from its scabbard all in vainBright flashed the sword of Lee;'Tis shrouded now in its sheath again,It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain,Defeated, yet without a stain,Proudly and peacefully.
Out of the shadows of sadness,Into the sunshine of gladness,Into the light of the blest;Out of a land very dreary,Out of the world very weary,Into the rapture of rest.
Out of to-day's sin and sorrow,Into a blissful to-morrow,Into a day without gloom;Out of a land filled with sighing,Land of the dead and the dying,Into a land without tomb.
Out of a life of commotion,Tempest-swept oft as the ocean,Dark with the wrecks drifting o'er,Into a land calm and quiet;Never a storm cometh nigh it,Never a wreck on its shore.
Out of a land in whose bowersPerish and fade all the flowers;Out of the land of decay,Into the Eden where fairestOf flowerets, and sweetest and rarest,Never shall wither away.
Out of the world of the wailingThronged with the anguished and ailing;Out of the world of the sad,Into the world that rejoices—World of bright visions and voices—Into the world of the glad.
Out of a life ever mournful,Out of a land very lornful,Where in bleak exile we roam,[13]Into a joy-land above us,Where there's a Father to love us—Into our home—"Sweet Home."
Cometh a voice from a far-land,Beautiful, sad, and low;Shineth a light from the star-landDown on the night of my woe;And a white hand, with a garland,Biddeth my spirit to go.
Away and afar from the night-land,Where sorrow o'ershadows my way,To the splendors and skies of the light-land,Where reigneth eternity's day,—To the cloudless and shadowless bright-land,Whose sun never passeth away.
And I knew the voice; not a sweeterOn earth or in Heaven can be;And never did shadow pass fleeterThan it, and its strange melody;And I know I must hasten to meet her,"Yea,Sister!Thou callest to me!"
And I saw the light; 'twas not seeming,It flashed from the crown that she wore,And the brow, that with jewels was gleaming,My lips had kissed often of yore!And the eyes, that with rapture were beaming,Had smiled on me sweetly before.
And I saw the hand with the garland,Ethel's hand—holy and fair;Who went long ago to the far-landTo weave me the wreath I shall wear;And to-night I look up to the star-landAnd pray that I soon may be there.[15]
Some reckon their age by years,Some measure their life by art,—But some tell their days by the flow of their tears,And their life, by the moans of their heart.
The dials of earth may showThe length—not the depth of years;Few or many they come, few or many they go,But our time is best measured by tears.
Ah! not by the silver grayThat creeps through the sunny hair,And not by the scenes that we pass on our way,And not by the furrows the fingers of care,
On forehead and face, have made:Not so do we count our years;Not by the sun of the earth, but the shadeOf our souls, and the fall of our tears.
For the young are oft-times old,Though their brow be bright and fair;While their blood beats warm, their heart lies cold—O'er them the springtime, but winter is there.
And the old are oft-times young,When their hair is thin and white;And they sing in age, as in youth they sung,And they laugh, for their cross was light.
But bead by bead I tellThe rosary of my years;From a cross to a cross they lead,—'tis well!And they're blest with a blessing of tears.
Better a day of strifeThan a century of sleep;Give me instead of a long stream of life,The tempests and tears of the deep.
A thousand joys may foamOn the billows of all the years;But never the foam brings the brave [17] heart home—It reaches the haven through tears.
For a general introduction to Father Ryan's poetry, see Chapter VI.
[Footnote 1: As stated in the sketch of Father Ryan, this poem strikes the keynote to his verse. It therefore properly opens his volume of poems. It became popular on its first publication, and was copied in various papers. It is here taken from theReligious Herald, Richmond, Virginia.]
[Footnote 2: The location ofThe Valley of Silenceis given in the last stanza.]
[Footnote 3: This poem may be taken, in a measure, as autobiographic. In this stanza, and the two following ones, the poet refers to that period of his life before he resolved to consecrate himself to the priesthood.]
[Footnote 4: This indicates the general character of his poetry. Inspired inThe Valley of Silence, it is sad, meditative, mystical, religious.]
[Footnote 5: Perhaps every poet has this experience. There come to him elusive glimpses of truth and beauty which are beyond the grasp of speech. As some one has sung:—
"Sometimes there rise, from deeps unknown,Before my inmost gaze,Far brighter scenes than earth has shownIn morning's orient blaze;I try to paint the visions bright,But, oh, their glories turn to night!"]
[Footnote 6: This poem was first published in Father Ryan's paper, theBanner of the South, March 21, 1868, from which it is here taken. Coming so soon after the close of the Civil War, it touched the Southern heart.]
[Footnote 7: For a criticism of the versification of this stanza, see the chapter on Father Ryan.]
[Footnote 8: This note of pardon, in keeping with the poet's priestly character, is found in several of his lyrics referring to the war. In spite of his strong Southern feeling, there is no unrelenting bitterness. Thus, inThe Prayer of the South, which appeared a week later, we read:—
"Father, I kneel 'mid ruin, wreck, and grave,—A desert waste, where all was erst so fair,—And for my children and my foes I cravePity and pardon. Father, hear my prayer!"]
[Footnote 9: This was the poet's feeling in 1868. In a similar strain we read inThe Prayer of the South:—
"My heart is filled with anguish deep and vast!My hopes are buried with my children's dust!My joys have fled, my tears are flowing fast!In whom, save Thee, our Father, shall I trust?"
Happily the poet lived to see a new order of things—an era in which vain regrets gave place to energetic courage, hope, and endeavor.]
[Footnote 10: This poem first appeared in theBanner of the South,April 4, 1868, and, like the preceding one, has been very popular in theSouth.]
[Footnote 11: Father Ryan felt great admiration for General Lee, who has remained in the South the popular hero of the war. In the last of hisSentinel Songs, the poet-priest pays a beautiful tribute to the stainless character of the Confederate leader:—
"Go, Glory, and forever guardOur chieftain's hallowed dust;And Honor, keep eternal ward,And Fame, be this thy trust!Go, with your bright emblazoned scrollAnd tell the years to be,The first of names to flash your rollIs ours—great Robert Lee."]
[Footnote 12: This poem was first published in theBanner of the South, April 25, 1868. It illustrates the profounder themes on which the poet loved to dwell, and likewise the Christian faith by which they were illumined.]
[Footnote 13: This mournful view of life appears frequently in FatherRyan's poems. InDe Profundis, for example, we read:—
"All the hours are full of tears—O my God! woe are we!Grief keeps watch in brightest eyes—Every heart is strung with fears,Woe are we! woe are we!All the light hath left the skies,And the living, awe-struck crowdsSee above them only clouds,And around them only shrouds."]
[Footnote 14: This poem, as the two preceding ones, is taken from theBanner of the South, where it appeared June 13, 1868. It affords a glimpse of the tragical romance of the poet's life. The voice that he hears is that of "Ethel," the lost love of his youth. Her memory never left him. In the poem entitledWhat?it is again her spirit voice that conveys to his soul an ineffable word.]
[Footnote 15: This desire for death occurs in several poems, asWhen?andRest. In the latter poem it is said:—
"'Twas always so; when but a child I laidOn mother's breastMy wearied little head—e'en then I prayedAs now—for rest."]
[Footnote 16: This poem is taken from theBanner of the South, where it appeared June 29, 1870. In the volume of collected poems the title is changed toThe Rosary of my Tears.]
[Footnote 17: "Brave" is changed to "lone" in the poet's revision.]