Poems (Griffith)/Starlight Musings
Starlight Musings.
THE gentle spirit of the twilight now
Has shut his rosy wings, and I have come
Out in the sad, sweet starlight, to commune
With olden visions, soft and beautiful,
Yet fading in my soul.
Has shut his rosy wings, and I have come
Out in the sad, sweet starlight, to commune
With olden visions, soft and beautiful,
Yet fading in my soul.
Ye lovely stars!
Bright, holy watchers of the glorious sky!
Ye gave to me in eves of other years
Your gentle sympathy—Oh grant it still,
For now 'tis dearer to the orphan's heart,
Than when in childhood's happy years she gazed
Enchanted on your lovely light, and dreamed
Had she but wings, that she could rise and grasp
Your shining forms and twine them round her brow;
A band of glorious jewels. Now she comes
Wiser, but oh, less happy, bent in soul
And crushed in hope, to weep her griefs away
Beneath your pitying beams. Her proud soul chafes
And struggles in its earthly pilgrimage;
Her weary feet and panting heart would rest
To-night, and she would muse on dear old joys
That lent their glow, their spirit-thrilling dreams,
Their wild, ideal spell of witchery,
To years that cannot come again, and scenes
She never can see more.
Bright, holy watchers of the glorious sky!
Ye gave to me in eves of other years
Your gentle sympathy—Oh grant it still,
For now 'tis dearer to the orphan's heart,
Than when in childhood's happy years she gazed
Enchanted on your lovely light, and dreamed
Had she but wings, that she could rise and grasp
Your shining forms and twine them round her brow;
A band of glorious jewels. Now she comes
Wiser, but oh, less happy, bent in soul
And crushed in hope, to weep her griefs away
Beneath your pitying beams. Her proud soul chafes
And struggles in its earthly pilgrimage;
Her weary feet and panting heart would rest
To-night, and she would muse on dear old joys
That lent their glow, their spirit-thrilling dreams,
Their wild, ideal spell of witchery,
To years that cannot come again, and scenes
She never can see more.
Nay, now her heart
Again grows young and gentle, as it thrills
Delightedly beneath your beautiful
And holy spell, as ocean thrills and heaves
To the young moon in heaven. Again she dreams,
And years and sorrows vanish from her life,
And leave her in her pure and innocent
And joyous childhood. Once again she treads
Where roses bloom, and no dark serpent coils
Beneath their leaves; again she looks abroad
O'er nature, with a soul that leaps to blend
With every scene and sound of love; again
She hears the well-remembered tones that made
The music of her life, ere yet she knew
That Death was in the world; and oh, again
Tears; gentle tears, the chastened spirit's dew,
Are overflowing from a heart whose depths
She thought were turned to dust. And now one star,
One soft, bright star, beams on her eye and soul,
On which she used to gaze in ecstasy
With him, the idol of her heart, when they.
Sat hand in hand on glorious eves like this,
In deep and voiceless love, their souls too full
Of wild and beautiful and burning dreams
For human utterance. Ah, little dreamed
Their hearts, as on their favorite star they gazed,
That soon its beams would shine alone for her,
And that her eyes would strain through gushing tears
To search its glittering orb, and see if 'twere
His spirit's dwelling-place.
Again grows young and gentle, as it thrills
Delightedly beneath your beautiful
And holy spell, as ocean thrills and heaves
To the young moon in heaven. Again she dreams,
And years and sorrows vanish from her life,
And leave her in her pure and innocent
And joyous childhood. Once again she treads
Where roses bloom, and no dark serpent coils
Beneath their leaves; again she looks abroad
O'er nature, with a soul that leaps to blend
With every scene and sound of love; again
She hears the well-remembered tones that made
The music of her life, ere yet she knew
That Death was in the world; and oh, again
Tears; gentle tears, the chastened spirit's dew,
Are overflowing from a heart whose depths
She thought were turned to dust. And now one star,
One soft, bright star, beams on her eye and soul,
On which she used to gaze in ecstasy
With him, the idol of her heart, when they.
Sat hand in hand on glorious eves like this,
In deep and voiceless love, their souls too full
Of wild and beautiful and burning dreams
For human utterance. Ah, little dreamed
Their hearts, as on their favorite star they gazed,
That soon its beams would shine alone for her,
And that her eyes would strain through gushing tears
To search its glittering orb, and see if 'twere
His spirit's dwelling-place.
Ye glorious stars !
Ye shone like blessed spirits of the sky
On Eden's groves and fountains, ere the pall
Of sin had fallen there; ye shone upon
A dark, and wild, and shoreless world of waves,
A lone and billowy desert, when the ark
That held all mortal breath was drifting o'er
The mountain tops; ye shone on Sinai's tall
Anal awful summit, when a mortal man
Was talking face to face with God; ye shone
On Calvary's sacred height, while yet the blood
That flowed to wash the human race from guilt
Was red upon the tree; ye shone on all
The prophets and the patriarchs of old,
And saw their tears as forth they stole and wept
In agony beneath your silent light;
Ye shone upon the meek and reverend heads
Of those who went forth in the strength of God,
To bear His message to a fallen world,
And on the dark brows and the gleaming steel
Of the fierce hosts that spread their prophet's creed
Abroad by sword and wasting flame; ye shone
On Egypt's plains ere yet the pyramids
Lifted their bald and solemn heads to heaven;
Ye shone on Tadmor, Nineveh, and Rome:
Their glories and their ruins; ye have shone
Upon the living forms and on the graves
Of the departed generations; ye
Have shone on all that's been on earth, and now
Ye shine on all that is. Oh, in your beams
There is a world of bright and awful lore,
A deep spell woven of the centuries,
And though we scarce may read the mystic scroll,
It shines upon our spirit with a pure,
And deep, and mighty power, and charms away
Care, sin, and woe, and makes us strong to bear
The strifes of mortal being.
Ye shone like blessed spirits of the sky
On Eden's groves and fountains, ere the pall
Of sin had fallen there; ye shone upon
A dark, and wild, and shoreless world of waves,
A lone and billowy desert, when the ark
That held all mortal breath was drifting o'er
The mountain tops; ye shone on Sinai's tall
Anal awful summit, when a mortal man
Was talking face to face with God; ye shone
On Calvary's sacred height, while yet the blood
That flowed to wash the human race from guilt
Was red upon the tree; ye shone on all
The prophets and the patriarchs of old,
And saw their tears as forth they stole and wept
In agony beneath your silent light;
Ye shone upon the meek and reverend heads
Of those who went forth in the strength of God,
To bear His message to a fallen world,
And on the dark brows and the gleaming steel
Of the fierce hosts that spread their prophet's creed
Abroad by sword and wasting flame; ye shone
On Egypt's plains ere yet the pyramids
Lifted their bald and solemn heads to heaven;
Ye shone on Tadmor, Nineveh, and Rome:
Their glories and their ruins; ye have shone
Upon the living forms and on the graves
Of the departed generations; ye
Have shone on all that's been on earth, and now
Ye shine on all that is. Oh, in your beams
There is a world of bright and awful lore,
A deep spell woven of the centuries,
And though we scarce may read the mystic scroll,
It shines upon our spirit with a pure,
And deep, and mighty power, and charms away
Care, sin, and woe, and makes us strong to bear
The strifes of mortal being.
Beautiful
And holy stars! ye seem in Paradise;
Ay, when your beams are resting on our brows,
We feel that we are bathed in what has been
A part of Heaven itself. We know that ye
Are God's own thoughts writ by His mighty hand,
And that our wingéd souls, by mounting up
From earth and mingling with your flames, may catch
A portion of your living glory. We,
Chained darkly to the dust, may never list
With mortal car the lofty symphony
That ye are ever pealing in your swift
And radiant sweep through the eternal space;
Yet, with our listening spirits we can hear
Its echoes sounding nightly o'er the earth,
The solemn music of eternity.
And holy stars! ye seem in Paradise;
Ay, when your beams are resting on our brows,
We feel that we are bathed in what has been
A part of Heaven itself. We know that ye
Are God's own thoughts writ by His mighty hand,
And that our wingéd souls, by mounting up
From earth and mingling with your flames, may catch
A portion of your living glory. We,
Chained darkly to the dust, may never list
With mortal car the lofty symphony
That ye are ever pealing in your swift
And radiant sweep through the eternal space;
Yet, with our listening spirits we can hear
Its echoes sounding nightly o'er the earth,
The solemn music of eternity.