Poems Sigourney 1834/Evening at Home
EVENING AT HOME.
WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH.
Loud roars the hoarse storm from the angry north,
As if the wintry spirit, loth to leave
Its wonted haunts, came rudely rushing on,
Fast by the steps of the defenceless Spring,
To hurl his frost-spear at her shrinking flowers.
Yet while the tempest o'er the charms of May
Sweeps dominant, and with discordant tone
The wild blast rules without, peace smiles within;
The fire burns cheerful, and the taper clear
Alternate aids the needle, or illumes
The page sublime, inciting the rapt soul,
To soar above the warring elements.
My gentle kitten at my footstool sings,
Her song monotonous, and full of joy;
Close by my side my tender mother sits,
Industriously bent,—her brow still bright
With beams of lingering youth, while he, the sire,
The faithful guide, indulgently doth smile
At our discourse, or wake the tuneful hymn
Which best he loves.
Fountain of life and light!—
Father Supreme! from whom our joys descend,
As streams flow from their source, and unto whom
All good on earth shall finally return
As to a natural centre, praise is due
To thee from all thy works, nor least from me,
Though in thy scale of being light and low.
From thee is shed whate'er of joy or peace
Doth sparkle in my cup,—health, hope and bliss,
And pure parental love, beneath whose roof
My ever grateful heart doth feel no want
Of sister, or of brother, or of friend.
Therefore, to thee be all the honour given,
Whether young morning with her vestal lamp
Warn from my couch, or sober twilight gray
Lead on the willing night, or summer-sky
Spread its smooth azure, or contending storms
Muster their wrath, or whether in the shade
Of much loved solitude, deep wove, and close,
I rest, or gaily share the social scene,
Or wander wide to twine with stranger-hearts
New sympathies, or wheresoever else
Thy hand may place me, let my steadfast eye
Behold thee, and my soul attune thy praise.
To thee alone, in humble trust I come,
For strength and wisdom. Leaning on thine arm
Fain would I pass this intermediate state,
This vale of discipline, and when its mists
Shall fleet away, I trust thou wilt not leave
My soul in darkness, for thy word is truth,
Nor are thy thoughts like the vain thoughts of man,
Nor thy ways like his ways.
Therefore I rest
In hope, and sing thy praise, Father Supreme!