Poems (Griffith)/To my Sister
For works with similar titles, see To my Sister.
To my Sister.
SWEET sister, thou art very beautiful, Thy wild and dark eye-flashes, burns and glows With glorious spirit-lustre, and a spell Of deep and holy witchery looks out From its clear depths in many a glance of love, A fervid glance of love and loveliness. Thy pale, pale cheek, o'er which the faintest blush Of crimson fades out, like the passion breath Of sunset o'er a snowy cloud; thy pure High brow, so beautiful, and eloquent, With the proud majesty of lofty thought; The waving wealth of midnight hair that floats Around thy forehead, like a stormy cloud Round a white monument; thy parting lips So red, so rich, so like the opening rose While yet the soft and early dew-drop blends With its wild perfume; thy bewitching smile Of strange, bright beauty, like a glance just caught From the closed portals of the Eden clime; Thy form, thy seraph form, that floats and glides Upon the earth in dreamlike loveliness, As 'twere the very spirit of a strain Of sweet and wild Æolian melody Made visible to mortal eyes; thy soft And gentle voice, that through my spirit sends Its thrill, like low and mournful music heard O'er the still waters of the midnight deep—All these seem stealing on my eye and ear, And lingering with me in my lonely hours, To fashion blessed dreams of thee and heaven Within my glowing soul.
Thou, sister dear, Art on the earth, not of it. Thy pure wing Is here chained back from thy own native heaven. Thou art a gentle angel that my God Hath sent to soften, purify, and soothe My soul of fierce unrest. To me thy love Is the bright bow that spans life's darkest storm, An angel bending from the tempest-cloud. We two have wept o'er our dear mother's grave, Together we have bowed our heads and prayed For strength from Heaven to shield us from the stern Deep agonies of life. Our mother sleeps Afar, and we, the children of her love, Are left to buffet life's dark waves alone. No, not alone, for at the solemn hour Of holy midnight, on the moon's pale beams That mother seeks her loved ones on the earth, To whisper strength and comfort to their hearts. Oh then, sweet sister, let us gird ourselves For life's great battle, safe beneath her wing From every pain and danger.
Sister mine!I've marked with bitter, bitter agony Thy fast decline—yet ah! it cannot be That thou wilt leave me here alone, alone, Upon the cold dull earth. Alas! I fear Our gentle mother would not come to me If thou wept gone. Oh leave me not—the dark Dread thought seems writhing in my burning brain, Like a wild scorpion in a sea of flame, And dreams of madness curdle my heart's blood,And wake the gloomy passions slumbering far Beneath the bright stream of my better thoughts. Thou wilt stay with me—yes, our mother's smile E'en now bids me be calm, and lo! the waves Of maddening fear are slowly ebbing back, To Heaven's own music-tone of "Peace! be still!"