Part 16

Thus thro’ the World, Seeing and feeling and knowing, Goes Man: till at last, Tired of experience, he turns To the friendly and comforting breast Of the old nurse, Death.

1876

XXX

KATE-A-WHIMSIES, John-a-Dreams, Still debating, still delay, And the world’s a ghost that gleams— Wavers—vanishes away!

We must live while live we can; We should love while love we may. Dread in women, doubt in man . . . So the Infinite runs away.

1876

XXXI

O, HAVE you blessed, behind the stars, The blue sheen in the skies, When June the roses round her calls?— Then do you know the light that falls From her belovèd eyes.

And have you felt the sense of peace That morning meadows give?— Then do you know the spirit of grace, The angel abiding in her face, Who makes it good to live.

She shines before me, hope and dream, So fair, so still, so wise, That, winning her, I seem to win Out of the dust and drive and din A nook of Paradise.

1877

XXXII To D. H.

O, FALMOUTH is a fine town with ships in the bay, And I wish from my heart it’s there I was to-day; I wish from my heart I was far away from here, Sitting in my parlour and talking to my dear. For it’s home, dearie, home—it’s home I want to be. Our topsails are hoisted, and we’ll away to sea. O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree They’re all growing green in the old countrie.

In Baltimore a-walking a lady I did meet With her babe on her arm, as she came down the street; And I thought how I sailed, and the cradle standing ready For the pretty little babe that has never seen its daddie. And it’s home, dearie, home . . .

O, if it be a lass, she shall wear a golden ring; And if it be a lad, he shall fight for his king: With his dirk and his hat and his little jacket blue He shall walk the quarter-deck as his daddie used to do. And it’s home, dearie, home . . .

O, there’s a wind a-blowing, a-blowing from the west, And that of all the winds is the one I like the best, For it blows at our backs, and it shakes our pennon free, And it soon will blow us home to the old countrie. For it’s home, dearie, home—it’s home I want to be. Our topsails are hoisted, and we’ll away to sea. O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree They’re all growing green in the old countrie.

1878

NOTE.—The burthen and the third stanza are old.

XXXIII

THE ways are green with the gladdening sheen Of the young year’s fairest daughter. O, the shadows that fleet o’er the springing wheat! O, the magic of running water! The spirit of spring is in every thing, The banners of spring are streaming, We march to a tune from the fifes of June, And life’s a dream worth dreaming.

It’s all very well to sit and spell At the lesson there’s no gainsaying; But what the deuce are wont and use When the whole mad world’s a-maying? When the meadow glows, and the orchard snows, And the air’s with love-motes teeming, When fancies break, and the senses wake, O, life’s a dream worth dreaming!

What Nature has writ with her lusty wit Is worded so wisely and kindly That whoever has dipped in her manuscript Must up and follow her blindly. Now the summer prime is her blithest rhyme In the being and the seeming, And they that have heard the overword Know life’s a dream worth dreaming.

1878

XXXIV To K. de M.

Love blows as the wind blows, Love blows into the heart.—NILE BOAT-SONG.

LIFE in her creaking shoes Goes, and more formal grows, A round of calls and cues: Love blows as the wind blows. Blows! . . . in the quiet close As in the roaring mart, By ways no mortal knows Love blows into the heart.

The stars some cadence use, Forthright the river flows, In order fall the dews, Love blows as the wind blows: Blows! . . . and what reckoning shows The courses of his chart? A spirit that comes and goes, Love blows into the heart.

1878