V. The Same

I muse upon your lingering words of love
In search of any comfort, as a child
Might play with desperate hand on his own hurt.
As “May the Eldorado that of old
Haunted your lonely visions, and your speech,
Be found a truth by you!” Or thus, “Alas!
I cannot hope that you shall be exempt
From the common lot;” or, “There is but one land
Whereto we send our dearest in all hope,
And doubt not that to follow them were bliss.”
And in a bygone letter “A poet’s heart
Is in your breast, though little uttered yet.
When the Sun leaves the Earth at eventide,
His glory-beams, which shone alike on all,
Leave but the higher hills; slowly withdrawn,
They linger long upon the peaks, till night
Wraps all alike in irrespective darkness:
And on the spirit of man there dwell at first
Beams of his native Heaven, and deck the child.
None but the higher natures keep those rays
Till Death brings night to all;” and “O love Truth,
But never deck her statuary limbs
With the presumptuous garb of paradox.”
Ah me! not even your partial words can cheer
My burthened soul to-night—hark! the ship’s bell
Marks the beginning of another day,
The day on which I sail! Whate’er I do,
Where’er I go, the world turns round the same,
And the great Universe’s pulses beat,
And He alone who is the Governor
And Centre of the circle of all spheres,
Knows what I am, or heeds; and when I die,
The stars will shine, and the whole globe turn round,
And the great Universe’s pulses beat,
And He alone will heed.
So runs the world—
You there, I here, God only everywhere.