And now, gentlemen, THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS A word I give to remain in your memories and minds, As base, and finale too, for all metaphysics. (So, to the students, the old professor, At the close of his crowded course.) Having studied the new and antique, the Greek and Germanic systems, Kant having studied and stated-Fichte and Schelling and Hegel, Stated the lore of Plato-and Socrates, greater than Plato, And greater than Socrates sought and stated-Christ divine having studied long, I see reminiscent to-day those Greek and Germanic systems, See the philosophies all-Christian churches and tenets see, Yet underneath Socrates clearly see-and underneath Christ the divine I see, Of city for city, and land for land. 10 O STAR OF FRANCE! 1870-71. 1870. O Star of France! The brightness of thy hope and strength and fame, Like some proud ship that led the fleet so long, Beseems to-day a wreck, driven by the gale-a mastless hulk; Orb not of France alone-pale symbol of my soul, its dearest hopes, Of aspirations toward the far ideal-enthusiast's dreams of brotherhood, Miserable! yet for thy errors, vanities, sins, I will not now rebuke thee; And left thee sacred. In that amid thy many faults, thou ever aimedst highly, In that thou wouldst not really sell thyself, however great the price, In that thou surely wakedst weeping from thy drugg'd sleep, 10 20 In that alone, among thy sisters. thou, Giantess, didst rend the ones that shamed thee, In that thou couldst not, wouldst not, wear the usual chains, This cross, thy livid face, thy pierced hands and feet, The spear thrust in thy side. 4 O star! O ship of France, beat back and baffled long! Sure, as the ship of all, the Earth itself, Finish'd the days, the clouds dispell'd, The travail o'er, the long-sought extrication When lo! reborn, high o'er the European world, (In gladness, answering thence, as face afar to face, reflecting ours, Columbia,) Again thy star, O France-fair, lustrous star, In heavenly peace, clearer, more bright than ever, First published in "As a Strong Bird," 1872. A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE A carol closing sixty-nine-a résumé-a repetition, Of you, my Land-your rivers, prairies, States-you, mottled Flag I love, Of me myself-the jocund heart yet beating in my breast, The body wreck'd, old, poor and paralyzed-the strange inertia falling pall-like round me, The burning fires down in my sluggish blood not yet extinct, The undiminish'd faith-the groups of loving friends. GOOD-BYE MY FANCY! 1888. Good-bye my Fancy! Farewell dear mate, dear love! I'm going away, I know not where, Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again, Now for my last-let me look hack a moment; Long have we lived, joy'd, caress'd together; Yet let me not be too hasty, Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter'd, become really blended into one; If we go anywhere we'll go together to meet what happens, May-be we'll be better off and blither, and learn something, May-be it is yourself now really ushering me to the true songs, (who knows?) RICHARD HENRY STODDARD (1825-1903) THE WITCH'S WHELP Along the shore the slimy brine-pits yawn, Covered with thick green scum; the billows rise, And fill them to the brim with clouded foam, And then subside, and leave the scum again. The ribbed sand is full of hollow gulfs, Where monsters from the waters come and lie. Great serpents bask at noon along the rocks, To me no terror; coil on coil they roll 8 Back to their holes before my flying feet. The Dragon of the Sea, my mother's god, Enormous Setebos, comes here to sleep; Him I molest not; when he flaps his wing A whirlwind rises, when he swims the deep It threatens to engulf the trembling isle. Sometimes when winds do blow, and clouds are dark, I seek the blasted wood whose barkless trunks Are bleached with summer suns; the creaking trees Stoop down to me, and swing me right and left Through crashing limbs, but not a jot care I. The thunder breaks above, and in their Felled by the winds; through briery undergrowth They slide with hissing tongues, beneath my feet 30 To writhe, or in my fingers squeezed to death. There is a wild and solitary pine, Deep in the meadows; all the island birds From far and near fly there, and learn new songs. Something imprisoned in its wrinkled bark Wails for its freedom; when the bigger light Burns in mid-heaven, and dew elsewhere is dried, There it still falls; the quivering leaves Henceforth let Music seal her lips, and be That more than won the crown he lost that day, Nor even the Orphean lute, that half set free (O, why not all!) the lost Eurydice, Were fit to join with thee; Much less our instruments of meaner sound, 30 That track thee slowly o'er enchanted ground, Unfit to lift the train thy music leaves, Or glean around its sheaves. I strive to disentangle in my mind Thy many-knotted threads of softest My heart was lost within itself and thee, As when a pearl is melted in its shell, And sunken in the sea. I sank and sank beneath thy song, but still But still upheld its cup for Heaven to fill. THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH There are gains for all our losses, There are balms for all our pain: But when youth, the dream, departs, It takes something from our hearts, And it never comes again. We are stronger, and are better, Under manhood's sterner reign: Still we feel that something sweet Followed youth, with flying feet, And will never come again. Something beautiful is vanished, And we sigh for it in vain : But it never comes again. You may drink to your leman in gold, In a great golden goblet of wine; She's as ripe as the wine, and as bold As the glare of the gold: But this little lady of mine, I will not profane her in wine. I go where the garden so still is, (The moon raining through) To pluck the white bowls of the lilies, And drink her in dew! The sky is a drinking-cup, We drink that wine all day, Till the last drop is drained up, And are lighted off to bed By the jewels in the cup! The gray old Earth goes on And the years as they go Tyrants sit upon their thrones, But little liberty remains, There is but little room for thee, In this wide world, O Liberty! But where thy foot has once been set Thou wilt remain, though oft unseen: |