Poems (Jones)/Anniversary Poem

by Amanda Theodosia Jones

POEM. READ AT THE ANNIVERSARY FESTIVITIES OF THE "NAMELESS CLUB," OCTOBER 27, 1863.

I.OULD mine were some celestial minstrel's art! So should I charm with dulcitudes of rhyme The Nameless Empress of our festal time;Who, spirit-like, draws from the world apart, But lights the pupils of our finer sight, And dwells among us, palpable and bright,Like Love within the chambers of the heart.

II.For she is worthy sweeter song than mine Who wins the fealty of souls like these; And, deftly touching Friendship's organ-keys,Draws forth the prelude meet for hymns divine; With loyal souls, for her we gladly pour Flower-scented honey from our summer store,And bid our choicest palm-fruits yield their wine.

III.Ye who remember in what guise she came,— In darkness draped, a shade with starry eyes; Till grown self-luminous, like boreal skies,Ye saw her form of beauty limned in flame; Ye know how then ye made, in sacred rite, For love of her a covenant with night,And gave yourselves the shadow of a name.

IV.And we, of late adopted, whom she drew By the strong magnet of her gracious will,— Who, at the threshold of her throne-room, stillHave loitered,—touch, to-night, with reverence due, Her sceptre: lo! like Aaron's rod of old, It breaks in bud, its gradual flowers unfold,And perfect almonds ripen in our view!

V.For where is festive gathering like ours? Fair Clio, muse of history, draws near, And with new wine revives the dying year;Here sings Euterpe, fresh from laurel-bowers; Here Calliope, skilled the heart to reach, From Thought's deep river flings the foam of speech;And oh scorn not the Poet's scanty flowers!

VI.No festival like ours: yet while we meet, We might discern, had we clairvoyant powers, The silent ecstasies of mingling flowers;The electric currents in a kindling heat Of mutual joy; the sounding rush and jar Of reveling tides; mount greeting mount afar,Through roar of avalanches white and fleet;

VII.The soft attraction of June clouds, that shine, Yet hide the sun till day is tinged with dark; As cherub-wings, flung radiant o'er the ark,Shielded from mortal eyes its light divine; And the recurrent, glad concourse above Of burning stars that still approach and love,And lean from their curved orbit's golden line.

VIII.But we have nobler union: being made Sentient of God and Truth and our own souls; And while each delicate pulse within us rollsQuickened with friendly fervor, we are weighed In Heaven's just balance, and all things beside Found less than we,—flower, mount, electric tide,Cloud, star, and sun,—through each material grade.

IX.Linked sweetly, life with life, how glad should prove Our annual gathering! since one dear name We bear; and recognize the vital claimOf strong resemblances, that strangely move With sense of adaptation each to each; Or sharp antagonisms, like wasps, that reachInto the heart, to get the sweets of love.

X.For transient raptures of the lesser kinds Of this, exceeding all, are but rude types; Or far-off echoes of these music-pipes,Where lurk the rhythmic powers of poet-minds: Nature has myriad revelers; but we, Royally human, hold our jubileeAs princes do, whose hall no peasant finds.

XI.Even thus the winds, that, all the season through, Ply their light wings, and toss the feathery spray Among the roses, or arise from playTo bend the giant larches, cool with dew, Merry and wild with aëry willfulness, In frequent, tuneful revelries congress,And all their birthnight harmonies renew.

XII.For once in central caverns, dark and dread, Dwelt winged Æolus, when the earth was new; There all his sons and daughters voiceful grew,And shook with noise the mountains overhead: Till Saturn's son—the wave-controlling god— Vexed with their music, smote with cleaving rodThe rock, sea-shaken, and unleashed they fled.

XIII.How rushed they forth, alert and strong and free! With dancing feet to thrid the dark-arched woods; To plow the sands on desert solitudes;O'er drowsy plains to chase the flitting bee; Down dripping chasms the falling leaf to whirl; Cloud against cloud mid leaping flames to hurl;To beat, with forceful wings, the frothy sea:

XIV.But, back at last, in sudden joyful raids, They wheel into the caverns of their birth,  To fill with laughter all the vaults of earth,—The secret, rayless, dewy haunt of shades; To smite wild harps on every beetling ledge; To pour libations unto Pan, and pledgeEternal love, beside the sea-cascades.

XV.So we, the Nameless, being loud in song, In speech persistent, vexed the gods to smite Our noisy souls from secret caves of night;And restless as the winds, the sad year long We beat the billows of opinion, caught Mid storm and cloud the lightning-flames of thought,Or teased the reed, or did the trumpet wrong.

XVI.Small spheres are ours: but we, at least, aspire, And by our diligence in labor, prove Our right divine to life and hope and love;And while we wield the sword or sweep the lyre, And sculpture the serene designs of Fate, Sure of the crown are we, and purple state,In those high courts where dwells our Lord and Sire.

XVII.And now all burdens from the heart we fling; We float from tempests, we are glad and free; We pass the turbulent whirlpools of the seaOf human effort, poising every wing For flights ecstatic, while we toss the spray Of gleeful words, and pour with laughter gayLibations to our queen, whose praise we sing.

XVIII.Were seasons bitter in the bygone year? We feel no chill to-night from any cold: Crossed we the desert? back the sands have rolled,And the Nile's lapsing symphonies we hear: Was love withheld? still we had love to give: Are loved ones dead? our dead shall surely live:Has earth receded? ah, then heaven is near!

XIX.And more to grace our natal night, behold A miracle! beside the honeyed hive Our sweetest flowers (for there were flowers) revive;The autumn breeze, but lately waxing bold,  Dies in the fragrance of the bursting rose: The Past bids all its emerald gates unclose—Backward we glide and test the joys of old.

XX.The flash of mind converging toward mind, Caught and refracted in Love's crystal lens, Lighting those vehement fires that melt and cleanseThe gold of character, else unrefined; Harmonious wills that made all converse sweet, Like bugles played in time with marching feet,Or varying voices, tunefully combined;

XXI.And that rare confluence of soul with soul,— As meeting rivers that through valleys pour, Will fret and chafe the intervening shoreUntil it breaks and as one wave they roll Through noontide splendor and through midnight shade, And nevermore are wholly two, but madeEach heir of both and partner in the whole;

XXII.And all the silent sympathies that rose After the falling of some frost of grief—  Like violets that push the growing leafAgainst the lingering lines of April snows: These joys were of the Nameless—still are ours, And shall be till we lose the breath of flowers,And find, on arctic plains, our long repose.

XXIII.While we the Year's chrysalides unlace, And all their silken threads around us creep, What living memories start from shrouded sleep!Upon whose broad, gold-dusted wings we trace The penciled curves of many a pictured scene,— Sun-copied hills, the river's rippling sheen,And the soft hues of many a shadowy place.

XXIV.For when the days were in their rosiest bloom We shook away the dust of city marts; And with a happy sense of lightened hearts,Let fall awhile our heavy weights of gloom: Right princely was our welcome to the wood, The green-roofed paths, the valley and the flood,And to the generous board and tasteful room!

XXV.The moon came up that eve, full-orbed and fair— That sovereign Cleopatra,—ruling Night, And dropping ever in his loving sightHer threaded pearls adown the wine-like air: Half undissolved they sank through shadows gray, Embroidered Mo-no-sha-sha's robe of spray,And caught in Deh-ga-ya-sol's silver snare.

XXVI.All night we heard the river-cataracts pour: Their ceaseless timbrels smote the ear of sleep; Till all our dreams, like waves that landward sweep,Were wild and voluble with naiad-lore: And we were reft of rest, and seemed to be Kuhleborns and Undines, dripping with the sea,Or knights and ladies drenched upon the shore.

XXVII.Surely the water-witches tricked us well! When the carved cuckoo made the morning hours Finish their rounds with song, mid falling showers, And rain-weighed rose-vines; scarcely might we tell Whether we had not lost our souls in dreams Of that past night, and were but sprites of streams,Oreads of hills, or elfs of knoll and dell.

XXVIII.Upon the grass-fringed lakelet, fountain-fed With cooling rills, just drained from hill-side wells, Where, to the tinkle of sweet water-bells,Aërial jets were waltzing overhead, By sirens lured, how daintily we rode! Till, drawn too near their crystalline abode,What showers the fickle creatures o'er us shed?

XXIX.We trod the dim cool windings of the trail That through the forest led to secret nooks, Where lightly laughed the ever-raptured brooks,And the mitchella repens blossomed, pale From love of shade and rich excess of dew; Where pulsed the bubbling spring, and downward threw,From tiny heights, its moss-entangled veil.

XXX.We sauntered by the still, sequestered lake, O'er which the trees leaned low and disallowed Reflection of blue sky or tinted cloud:Hushed were we into silence, or but spake Half to recite, half chant some rhymèd phrase: (Ah! such the witchery of those woodland ways,The very lovers there their loves forsake!)

XXXI.But thou, O Genesee! above thy tide On grassy lawn we loitered in the shade, And watched thy cascade-waves their network braidOf sunny coils, the notched, rude rocks to hide; And heard—as choir-sung hymns, past architrave And frescoed arch, and pillar-narrowed nave—Ever, O Genesee, thy songs of pride!

XXXII.Vaunting, thou child of clouds, thy lineage high; Thine ermine-bordered, rustling, gemmed attire;  Thy rainbow-wrought pavilion, fringed with fireOf ardent suns when reigns the proud July; Thy creeping, leaping, battling waterfalls; Thine ancient, steadfast, most imperial halls,Whose lofty chambers swell thy lightest sigh.

XXXIII.O home of peace! O cedar-bowered land— Glistening Glen Iris, beautiful as heaven! O cloven hills, by flood or earthquake riven!O riotous stream, impetuous and grand! There while we dwelt, gay laugh and mimic feud Our youth revived, our childhood half renewed,And knit, forever one, our songful band.

XXXIV.But shall we yield our souls to dreams of rest? Floating on gossamer-memories, away From dissonant life and all the sad to-day,—To sink into the poppy's scarlet breast, Crying "Here linger! there is need of sleep!" When round us "deep is calling unto deep,"Nation to nation in the East and West?

XXXV.List to their passionate voices: "Wake, oh wake! Our rulers rule not well: their yokes are hard; Their palaces the very day retardWith lengthened shadows, when the mornings break: Are we but slaves that thus we crouch the knee? Hearken! God thunders 'Ye are men—are free!'And dynasties beneath his judgments quake."

XXXVI.How long shall Poland faint and Hungary sleep? How long shall sultan smite and emperor plot? How long shall tears of blood earth's records blot?How long shall Afric, scourged, submissive creep And drag the brutal trader's shameful chains? How long shall Northern blood wet Southern plains?How long shall heroes sow and dastards reap?

XXXVII.O Power Supreme, thou knowest—thou alone! But there are omens in the air and sky,  That prove the very gods are drawing nigh—Touched to the heart by every human groan. Cloud-veiled, they ride to end the doubtful fray; Around their feet the obedient lightnings play;Down mount and vale their heaven-forged bolts are thrown.

XXXVIII.Wild battle-blasts have withered half our land, And Freedom pants and pales in hellish toils; But ah, above the dragon's stiffening coils,The car of Victory rolls from strand to strand: Its wingéd coursers cleave the smoke of strife; O'er mortal dust blooms deathless spirit-life;Dread War rides on—but rides toward issues grand.

XXXIX.For God shall speak; and clash of cleaving sword, And cherub-harps and archangelic songs In larger sound shall merge unheard, while throngsOf stars, made fair by his Creative Word, Shall hark to the ineffable voiceful breath: "Columbia, rise—thou conqueror of Death!Savior of nations, counselor and lord!"

XL.Comes not the hour? quake not the rock-based hills? Falls not grief's darkness over sea and plain? Are not the veils of temples rent in twain?Have not the Dead grown quick with throes and thrills Of actual life?—appearing, saintly pale, Through faint aureola and shimmering veil,While Sin his own death-measure over-fills?

XLI.For us, who now all mournful thought forbear, Weak, "Nameless," we are children ne'ertheless Of Him, who ever waits in heaven to blessWith kind "Well done!" our sad laborious care. There shall our lives, that find rough channels here, Flow smoothly on, nor beat the shores of Fear;And all their hours be sweet and debonair.

XLII.Thus when our souls, ascending, seek the sun, Each from new heights of social joy shall turn,  And, looking earthward, find the broken urnOf his past life with myrtle overrun; And hear some loiterer in the graveyard say, "This soul was worthy of heaven's perfect day,Who did the work God gave, and hindered none."

 

THE END