Legends and Lyrics-2 [17]
just with Mildred's patient
eyes;
Dreams of work, and fame, and honour struggling with a tender pity,
Till the loving Past receding saw the conquering Future rise.
Daybreak still found Mildred watching, with the wonder of first
sorrow,
How the outward world unaltered shone the same this very day;
How unpitying and relentless busy life met this new morrow,
Earth, and sky, and man unheeding that her joy had passed away.
Then the round of weary duties, cold and formal, came to meet her,
With the life within departed that had given them each a soul;
And her sick heart even slighted gentle words that came to greet
her;
For Grief spread its shadowy pinions, like a blight, upon the
whole.
Jar one chord, the harp is silent; move one stone, the arch is
shattered;
One small clarion-cry of sorrow bids an armed host awake;
One dark cloud can hide the sunlight; loose one string, the pearls
are scattered;
Think one thought, a soul may perish; say one word, a heart may
break!
Life went on, the two lives running side by side; the outward
seeming,
And the truer and diviner hidden in the heart and brain;
Dreams grow holy, put in action; work grows fair through starry
dreaming;
But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain.
Such was Mildred's life; her dreaming lay in some far-distant
region,
All the fairer, all the brighter, that its glories were but
guessed;
And the daily round of duties seemed an unreal, airy legion -
Nothing true save Philip's letters and the ring upon her breast.
Letters telling how he struggled, for some plan or vision aiming,
And at last how he just grasped it as a fresh one spread its wings;
How the honour or the learning, once the climax, now were claiming,
Only more and more, becoming merely steps to higher things.
Telling her of foreign countries: little store had she of
learning,
So her earnest, simple spirit answered as he touched the string;
Day by day, to these bright fancies all her silent thoughts were
turning,
Seeing every radiant picture framed within her golden Ring.
Oh, poor heart--love, if thou willest; but, thine own soul still
possessing,
Live thy life: not a reflection or a shadow of his own:
Lean as fondly, as completely, as thou willest--but confessing
That thy strength is God's, and therefore can, if need be, stand
alone.
Little means were there around her to make farther, wider ranges,
Where her loving gentle spirit could try any stronger flight;
And she turned aside, half fearing that fresh thoughts were fickle
changes -
That she MUST stay as he left her on that farewell summer night.
Love should still be guide and leader, like a herald should have
risen,
Lighting up the long dark vistas, conquering all opposing fates;
But new claims, new thoughts, new duties found her heart a silent
prison,
And found Love, with folded pinions, like a jailer by the gates.
Yet why blame her? it had needed greater strength than she was
given
To have gone against the current that so calmly flowed along;
Nothing fresh came near the village save the rain and dew of
heaven,
And her nature was too passive, and her love perhaps too strong.
The great world of thought, that rushes down the years, and onward
sweeping
Bears upon its mighty billows in its progress each and all,
Flowed so far away, its murmur did not rouse them from their
sleeping;
Life and Time and Truth were speaking, but they did not hear their
call.
Years flowed on; and every morning heard her prayer grow lower,
deeper,
As she called all blessings on him, and bade every ill depart,
And each night when the cold moonlight shone upon that quiet
sleeper,
It would show her ring that glittered with each throbbing of her
heart.
Years passed on. Fame came for Philip in a full, o'erflowing
measure;
He was spoken of and honoured through the breadth of many lands,
And he wrote it all to Mildred, as if praise were only pleasure,
As if fame were only honour, when he laid them in her hands.
Mildred heard it without wonder, as a sure
eyes;
Dreams of work, and fame, and honour struggling with a tender pity,
Till the loving Past receding saw the conquering Future rise.
Daybreak still found Mildred watching, with the wonder of first
sorrow,
How the outward world unaltered shone the same this very day;
How unpitying and relentless busy life met this new morrow,
Earth, and sky, and man unheeding that her joy had passed away.
Then the round of weary duties, cold and formal, came to meet her,
With the life within departed that had given them each a soul;
And her sick heart even slighted gentle words that came to greet
her;
For Grief spread its shadowy pinions, like a blight, upon the
whole.
Jar one chord, the harp is silent; move one stone, the arch is
shattered;
One small clarion-cry of sorrow bids an armed host awake;
One dark cloud can hide the sunlight; loose one string, the pearls
are scattered;
Think one thought, a soul may perish; say one word, a heart may
break!
Life went on, the two lives running side by side; the outward
seeming,
And the truer and diviner hidden in the heart and brain;
Dreams grow holy, put in action; work grows fair through starry
dreaming;
But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain.
Such was Mildred's life; her dreaming lay in some far-distant
region,
All the fairer, all the brighter, that its glories were but
guessed;
And the daily round of duties seemed an unreal, airy legion -
Nothing true save Philip's letters and the ring upon her breast.
Letters telling how he struggled, for some plan or vision aiming,
And at last how he just grasped it as a fresh one spread its wings;
How the honour or the learning, once the climax, now were claiming,
Only more and more, becoming merely steps to higher things.
Telling her of foreign countries: little store had she of
learning,
So her earnest, simple spirit answered as he touched the string;
Day by day, to these bright fancies all her silent thoughts were
turning,
Seeing every radiant picture framed within her golden Ring.
Oh, poor heart--love, if thou willest; but, thine own soul still
possessing,
Live thy life: not a reflection or a shadow of his own:
Lean as fondly, as completely, as thou willest--but confessing
That thy strength is God's, and therefore can, if need be, stand
alone.
Little means were there around her to make farther, wider ranges,
Where her loving gentle spirit could try any stronger flight;
And she turned aside, half fearing that fresh thoughts were fickle
changes -
That she MUST stay as he left her on that farewell summer night.
Love should still be guide and leader, like a herald should have
risen,
Lighting up the long dark vistas, conquering all opposing fates;
But new claims, new thoughts, new duties found her heart a silent
prison,
And found Love, with folded pinions, like a jailer by the gates.
Yet why blame her? it had needed greater strength than she was
given
To have gone against the current that so calmly flowed along;
Nothing fresh came near the village save the rain and dew of
heaven,
And her nature was too passive, and her love perhaps too strong.
The great world of thought, that rushes down the years, and onward
sweeping
Bears upon its mighty billows in its progress each and all,
Flowed so far away, its murmur did not rouse them from their
sleeping;
Life and Time and Truth were speaking, but they did not hear their
call.
Years flowed on; and every morning heard her prayer grow lower,
deeper,
As she called all blessings on him, and bade every ill depart,
And each night when the cold moonlight shone upon that quiet
sleeper,
It would show her ring that glittered with each throbbing of her
heart.
Years passed on. Fame came for Philip in a full, o'erflowing
measure;
He was spoken of and honoured through the breadth of many lands,
And he wrote it all to Mildred, as if praise were only pleasure,
As if fame were only honour, when he laid them in her hands.
Mildred heard it without wonder, as a sure