Poems (Welby)/Stanzas

by Amelia Welby

For works with similar titles, see Stanzas.

STANZAS.

Pale star, that, with thy soft sad light,
 Came out upon my bridal eve,
I have a song to sing to-night
 Before thou tak'st thy mournful leave.
Since then, so softly time hath stirred,
 That months have almost seemed like hours,
And I am like some little bird,
 That 's slept too long among the flowers,
And, waking, sits with waveless wing,
 Soft-singing, 'mid the shades of even;
But O! with sadder heart I sing—
 I sing of one who dwells in heaven.

The winds are soft, the clouds are few,
 And tenderest thought my heart beguiles,
As, floating up through mist and dew,
 The pale young moon comes out and smiles;
And to the green resounding shore,
 In silvery troops the ripples crowd,
Till all the ocean, dimpled o'er,
 Lifts up its voice and laughs aloud;
And star on star, all soft and calm,
 Floats up yon arch serenely blue,
And lost to earth, and steeped in balm,
 My spirit floats in ether too.

Loved one! though lost to human sight,
 I feel thy spirit lingering near,
As softly as I feel the light
 That trembles through the atmosphere;
As in some temple's holy shades,
 Though mute the hymn, and hushed the prayer,
A solemn awe the soul pervades,
 Which tells that worship has been there;
A breath of incense left alone,
 Where many a censer swung around,
Will thrill the wanderer like a tone,
 Who treads on consecrated ground.

I know thy soul, from worlds of bliss,
 That stoops awhile to dwell with me,
Hath caught the prayer I breathed in this,
 That I at last might dwell with thee.
I hear a murmur from the seas
 That thrills me like thy spirit's sighs;
I hear a voice on every breeze;
 That makes to mine its low replies—
A voice, all low and sweet, like thine,
 It gives an answer to my prayer,
And brings my soul from heaven a sign
 That it shall know and meet thee there.

I'll know thee there by that sweet face,
 Round which a tender halo plays,
Still touched with that expressive grace
 That made thee lovely all thy days;
By that sweet smile, that o'er it shed
 A beauty like the light of even,
Whose soft expression never fled,
 Even when its soul had flown to heaven;
I'll know thee by the starry crown,
 That glitters in thy golden hair:
O! by these blessed signs alone
 I'll know thee there—I'll know thee there.

For thy soft eye, within whose sphere,
 The sweets of youth and beauty met,
That swam in love and softness here,
 Must swim in love and softness yet;
For O! its dark and liquid beams,
 Though saddened by a thousand sighs,
Were holier than the light that streams
 Down from the gates of paradise—
Were bright and radiant like the morn,
 Yet soft and dewy as the eve—
Too sad for eyes where smiles are born—
 Too young for eyes, that learn to grieve.

I wonder if this cool, sweet breeze
 Hath touched thy lips and fanned thy brow;
For all my spirit hears and sees
 Recalls thee to my memory now;
For every hour we breathe apart
 Will but increase, if that can be,
The love, that fills this mournful heart
 Already filled so full of thee;
Yet many a tear these eyes must weep,
 And many a sin must be forgiven,
Ere these pale lids shall sink to sleep—
 Ere thou and I shall meet in heaven.