Poems (Griffith)/Life

by Mattie Griffith

For works with similar titles, see Life.

Life.

"OH, life is very, very beautiful
To my young heart. No clouds are on its sky,
Save those the rainbow crowns; no waters sweep
Beneath, save those that give the sky's soft blue
Back from their tranquil bosoms; and no winds
Fly o'er the fresh green earth, save those that come
To bear sweet incense on their dewy wings,
To fan my glowing temples, and to lift
The light curl from my cheek. The many stars
Shine like rich blessings on me; countless flowers,
With all their soft blue eyes, look love to mine;
And myriad red and golden fruits hang low,
And seem to woo my hand to pluck them. Life
To me is all my heart has ever dreamed
Of Eden land; it is a blooming bower,
And I its merriest, happiest singing-bird.
They tell us of a brighter, better clime,
Beyond the star-lit azure, but I fain
Would live for ever on this earth."

                  Thus sang
At morn a wild and joyous-hearted girl,
Upon a flowery lea. Her loosened hat
Was swinging on her shoulders; her white hand
Strayed 'mid the surrey ringlets of her hair;
Her blue eyes glistened with her happy dreams;
And sweet smiles played, like honey bees, around
Her parted cherry lips. Young roses lay
Upon her budding bosom; and glad thoughts
Were springing in her heart—sweet spirit-flowers,
More fresh, more bright, more beautiful, than those
That bloomed upon her breast.

                 Old Time moved on,
Smiling upon the gay and lovely girl,
And bearing for her, on his gentle plumes,
All she could ask or crave.

              A few brief years,
And Time's sweet smile was changed to frowns. He crushed
The dewy roses on that young girl's breast,
And in her heart The waving of his wing
Waked a chill blast, from which she shrank away,
Looking in vain for refuge. One by one,
The friends and guardians of her earlier years
Fell at her side; and one by one their graves
Were watered with her bitter tears. She felt
That she was all alone, a wanderer
Upon the desert of the world. Her voice,
So often answered in her happier hours
By tones of love and friendship, now came back,
But with a wailing echo to her sad
And straining ear. All bowed in soul, she pined
In deep and utter solitude. Her hair,
That erst had wantoned on each passing gale
So bright and free, was plainly gathered o'er
Her pale and stricken brow. Her eye, that once
Had danced so wildly to the melody
Of her own soul's sweet fancies, looked through tears.
Yet sparkled with the strange mysterious light
That tells of coming death. A deep-drawn sigh,
More dismal than the sobbing of the wind
Through the lone ruins of an ancient tomb,
Told that her heart was broken. And as there
She bowed her forehead low upon her hand,
Her anguish thus found utterance.

                  "What is life?
Oh, what is life ? A sigh, a tear, a frown,
A shadow and a mockery! The light clouds,
That moved so sweetly o'er my morning sky,
Have darkened to a tempest; the bright waves
That caught the morning and the evening beam,
Wear midnight's sable hue, and break and roar
In yeasty wrath around me; and the winds
That used to linger on my floating curls',
And with their dew-lips kiss my rosy cheeks,
Have turned to winter blasts, and fiercely sweep
Cold, cold and bitter o'er me. Not a flower
Blooms in my cheerless pathway; not a bird
Sings in my lonely ear; not one dear voice
Calls to me in my grief; and not one star
Shines on this wide and awful waste. My life
Is very, very desolate. O God!
Thou stay and helper of the weary heart!
To Thee I kneel in agony, and pray
That Thou wilt take me from this dreary world
To rest for ever in Thy smile of love."