536 COATES KINNEY. [1850-60. On ! right on ! Life is a battle, So the brook and the river Wliere who wins must be a brave ; Unitedly run ; For ere long the clods shall rattle Two lives from the Giver, On the coffin in the grave. Flow back only one. The two halves of being. On ! right on ! His name is Legion, The man and the woman. That has resolution's arm ; In wedlock agreeing. Victor he o'er many a region, Complete the life human. Ere dull plodders take alarm. When two lives like these from single On ! right on ! with high ambition, Into double being flow — Make that viper. Slander, feel When two souls like these commingle, Writhings of submiss contrition, In their hearts this truth shall grow : With his head beneath thy heel. Love is not the little lusters Starred around the passion-moon ; On ! right on ! Think not life ending Love o'er all life's heaven clusters, When thou liest down to die : From horizon up to noon. On ! right on ! brave soul, ascending. Soar forever in the sky ! DISCONTENT. ON MARRIAGE. A LITTLE bird with a scarlet coat Came fluting to me a silver note. A BROOK and a river — A crystalline brook From a sibylline nook, As though it said thro' its mellow throat, Isle-of- Willows ! Isle-of- Willows ! And a silvery river — It perched alone on a lonely tree. Flow into a lake, And seemed that it longed and longed to be In which beautiful lake In the isle it sung of thus to me — Are pictured all bright things above ; Isle-of- Willows ! Isle-of- Willows ! The brook is a life. And the river a life ; And the lake is the Lake of Love. It thought, perhaps, of a little isle, Where blue the waters and heavens smile. And green the willows wave all the while, And out of its bosom Isle-of- Willows ! Isle-of- Willows ! A stream fills and flows. And oceanward goes — From out the lake's bosom One stream to the sea ; And this infinite sea, Is this thy memory or thy hope — Thy being's backward or forward scope, Whereto thy little heart-longings grope ? Isle-of- Willows ! Isle-of- Willows ! That ever mysteriously rolls It said me never another word, Upon time's either shore, But flitted away this little bird ; It is named Evermore ; Yet aye in my soul its voice is heai'd — And the stream is one life of two souls. Isle-of-Willows ! Isle-of- Willows !
