Poems (Griffith)/To J. R. Barrick

by Mattie Griffith

To J. R. Barrick.

OH poet, to my ]one and swelling heart
 How gently comes the message sent by thine;
It speaks to me of all I know thou art,
 For thy high soul glows in each burning line.
I ne'er have met thee on the earth, but thou
 Hast wakened visions that will long remain,
Shedding their holy brightness on my brow,
 And haunting with their glory heart and brain.

Yes, poet, to my soul, as to thine own,
 The world is bright, and if dark grief awhile
Clouds the high visions of my spirit lone,
 I find no gloom in Nature's blessed smile.
The flowers still blow as in my childhood's years,
 The sunset hangs as lovely on the sky,
And the dear moon wakes still the happy tears
 Her pale face wakened in the years gone by.

And earth is brighter still, that souls like thine
 Are sent by Heaven beneath the skies, to give
To cold realities a tinge divine,
 And make it a sweet luxury to live.
Such spirits lend a deep ideal glow
 To wave, to wildwood, rainbow, star and flower,
Charming from human life the shades of woe
 By the strong spell of their mysterious power.

And thou hast stolen even from this dull,
 Cold heart of mine, one-half its weight of pain,
And made existence almost beautiful
 By the strange magic of thy heavenly strain.
Lured by thy tones, my weeping spirit turns
 From all earth's cares, its bitterness and strife,
And, leaning on thy noble spirit, learns
 To taste the glorious ecstasies of life.

Oh, earth to thee must be a Paradise,
 Where birds are singing ever o'er thy head,
Where silver fountains picture golden skies,
 And loveliest flowers spring up beneath thy tread
And there blest spirits, beautiful and bright,
 High angel-natures, love with thee to roam
At morn, at eve, mad in the silent night,
 And talk with thee of thy immortal home.