Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/95

Her time-worn cable from the wilder'd mind,
Blotting the chart whereon it loved to gaze
Mid the dim ocean of returnless years.—
—They brought the trophies forth which he had won,
And spread them in his sight,—a nation's thanks
Graved on that massy ore which misers love:—
But vacantly he gazed, and caught no trace
Of lost delight.—The worldling's glance might scan,
In the slow changes of that saintly brow,
Nought save the wreck of intellect, and scorn
Such humbling picture; but an angel's eye
Train'd in the value of the gold of Heaven,
Would differently interpret.
                                          —By his side
Was God's blest book, and on its open page
Gleam'd forth the name of Him of Nazareth.—
Quick o'er his brow the light of gladness came,
While on those leaves his wither'd lip he laid,
And tears burst forth,—yes,—tears of rushing joy,
For this had been the banner of his soul
Through all her pilgrimage.
                                          —To his dull ear
I spake the message of a friend who walk'd
With him in glory's path, and nobly shared
That fellowship in danger and in toil
Which knits pure souls together.—But the name
Restored no image of that cherish'd form
In youth beloved.—I should have said farewell,
In brokenness of heart,—but up he rose
And with a seerlike majesty pour'd forth
His holy adjuration to the God
Who o'er time's broken wave had borne his bark