Legends and Lyrics-2 [16]
spray
Stir not in that quiet hour: through the valley, calm and stilly,
All in hushed and loving silence watch the slow departing Day.
Till the last faint western cloudlet, faint and rosy, ceases
blushing,
And the blue grows deep and deeper where one trembling planet
shines,
And the day has gone for ever--then, like some great ocean rushing,
The sad night wind wails lamenting, sobbing through the moaning
pines.
Such, of all day's changing hours, is the fittest and the meetest
For a farewell hour--and parting looks less bitter and more blest;
Earth seems like a shrine for sorrow, Nature's mother voice is
sweetest,
And her hand seems laid in chiding on the unquiet throbbing breast.
Words are lower, for the twilight seems rebuking sad repining,
And wild murmur and rebellion, as all childish and in vain;
Breaking through dark future hours clustering starry hopes seem
shining,
Then the calm and tender midnight folds her shadow round the pain.
So they paced the shady lime-walk in that twilight dim and holy,
Still the last farewell deferring, she could hear or he should say;
Every word, weighed down by sorrow, fell more tenderly and slowly -
This, which now beheld their parting, should have been their
wedding-day.
Should have been: her dreams of childhood, never straying, never
faltering,
Still had needed Philip's image to make future life complete;
Philip's young hopes of ambition, ever changing, ever altering,
Needed Mildred's gentle presence even to make successes sweet.
This day should have seen their marriage; the calm crowning and
assurance
Of two hearts, fulfilling rather, and not changing, either life:
Now they must be rent asunder, and her heart must learn endurance,
For he leaves their home, and enters on a world of work and strife.
But her gentle spirit long had learnt, unquestioning, submitting,
To revere his youthful longings, and to marvel at the fate
That gave such a humble office, all unworthy and unfitting,
To the genius of the village, who was born for something great.
When the learned Traveller came there who had gained renown at
college,
Whose abstruse research had won him even European fame,
Questioned Philip, praised his genius, marvelled at his self-taught
knowledge,
Could she murmur if he called him up to London and to fame?
Could she waver when he bade her take the burden of decision,
Since his troth to her was plighted, and his life was now her own?
Could she doom him to inaction? could she, when a newborn vision
Rose in glory for his future, check it for her sake alone?
So her little trembling fingers, that had toiled with such fond
pleasure,
Paused, and laid aside, and folded the unfinished wedding gown;
Faltering earnestly assurance, that she too could, in her measure,
Prize for him the present honour, and the future's sure renown.
Now they pace the shady lime-walk, now the last words must be
spoken,
Words of trust, for neither dreaded more than waiting and delay;
Was not love still called eternal--could a plighted vow be broken?
-
See the crimson light of sunset fades in purple mist away.
"Yes, my Mildred," Philip told her, "one calm thought of joy and
blessing,
Like a guardian spirit by me, through the world's tumultuous stir,
Still will spread its wings above me, and now urging, now
repressing,
With my Mildred's voice will murmur thoughts of home, and love, and
her.
"It will charm my peaceful leisure, sanctify my daily toiling,
With a right none else possesses, touching my heart's inmost
string;
And to keep its pure wings spotless I shall fly the world's touch,
soiling
Even in thought this Angel Guardian of my Mildred's Wedding Ring.
"Take it, dear; this little circlet is the first link, strong and
holy,
Of a life-long chain, and holds me from all other love apart;
Till the day when you may wear it as my wife--my own--mine wholly -
Let me know it rests for ever near the beating of your heart."
Dawn of day saw Philip speeding on his road to the Great City,
Thinking how the stars gazed downward
Stir not in that quiet hour: through the valley, calm and stilly,
All in hushed and loving silence watch the slow departing Day.
Till the last faint western cloudlet, faint and rosy, ceases
blushing,
And the blue grows deep and deeper where one trembling planet
shines,
And the day has gone for ever--then, like some great ocean rushing,
The sad night wind wails lamenting, sobbing through the moaning
pines.
Such, of all day's changing hours, is the fittest and the meetest
For a farewell hour--and parting looks less bitter and more blest;
Earth seems like a shrine for sorrow, Nature's mother voice is
sweetest,
And her hand seems laid in chiding on the unquiet throbbing breast.
Words are lower, for the twilight seems rebuking sad repining,
And wild murmur and rebellion, as all childish and in vain;
Breaking through dark future hours clustering starry hopes seem
shining,
Then the calm and tender midnight folds her shadow round the pain.
So they paced the shady lime-walk in that twilight dim and holy,
Still the last farewell deferring, she could hear or he should say;
Every word, weighed down by sorrow, fell more tenderly and slowly -
This, which now beheld their parting, should have been their
wedding-day.
Should have been: her dreams of childhood, never straying, never
faltering,
Still had needed Philip's image to make future life complete;
Philip's young hopes of ambition, ever changing, ever altering,
Needed Mildred's gentle presence even to make successes sweet.
This day should have seen their marriage; the calm crowning and
assurance
Of two hearts, fulfilling rather, and not changing, either life:
Now they must be rent asunder, and her heart must learn endurance,
For he leaves their home, and enters on a world of work and strife.
But her gentle spirit long had learnt, unquestioning, submitting,
To revere his youthful longings, and to marvel at the fate
That gave such a humble office, all unworthy and unfitting,
To the genius of the village, who was born for something great.
When the learned Traveller came there who had gained renown at
college,
Whose abstruse research had won him even European fame,
Questioned Philip, praised his genius, marvelled at his self-taught
knowledge,
Could she murmur if he called him up to London and to fame?
Could she waver when he bade her take the burden of decision,
Since his troth to her was plighted, and his life was now her own?
Could she doom him to inaction? could she, when a newborn vision
Rose in glory for his future, check it for her sake alone?
So her little trembling fingers, that had toiled with such fond
pleasure,
Paused, and laid aside, and folded the unfinished wedding gown;
Faltering earnestly assurance, that she too could, in her measure,
Prize for him the present honour, and the future's sure renown.
Now they pace the shady lime-walk, now the last words must be
spoken,
Words of trust, for neither dreaded more than waiting and delay;
Was not love still called eternal--could a plighted vow be broken?
-
See the crimson light of sunset fades in purple mist away.
"Yes, my Mildred," Philip told her, "one calm thought of joy and
blessing,
Like a guardian spirit by me, through the world's tumultuous stir,
Still will spread its wings above me, and now urging, now
repressing,
With my Mildred's voice will murmur thoughts of home, and love, and
her.
"It will charm my peaceful leisure, sanctify my daily toiling,
With a right none else possesses, touching my heart's inmost
string;
And to keep its pure wings spotless I shall fly the world's touch,
soiling
Even in thought this Angel Guardian of my Mildred's Wedding Ring.
"Take it, dear; this little circlet is the first link, strong and
holy,
Of a life-long chain, and holds me from all other love apart;
Till the day when you may wear it as my wife--my own--mine wholly -
Let me know it rests for ever near the beating of your heart."
Dawn of day saw Philip speeding on his road to the Great City,
Thinking how the stars gazed downward