The Poetry Corner

Contemplation.

By Nathaniel Parker Willis

'They are all up - the innumerable stars - And hold their place in heaven. My eyes have been Searching the pearly depths through which they spring Like beautiful creations, till I feel As if it were a new and perfect world, Waiting in silence for the word of God To breathe it into motion. There they stand, Shining in order, like a living hymn Written in light, awaking at the breath Of the celestial dawn, and praising Him Who made them, with the harmony of spheres. I would I had an angel's ear to list That melody! I would that I might float Up in that boundless element, and feel Its ravishing vibrations, like a pulse Beating in heaven! My spirit is athirst For music - rarer music! I would bathe My soul in a serener atmosphere Than this! I long to mingle with the flock Led by the "living waters," and lie down In the "green pastures" of the better land! When wilt thou break, dull fetter! When shall I Gather my wings; and, like a rushing thought, Stretch onward, star by star, up into heaven!' Thus mused Alethe. She was one to whom Life had been like the witching of a dream, Of an untroubled sweetness. She was born Of a high race, and laid upon the knee, With her soft eye perusing listlessly The fretted roof, or, on Mosaic floors, Grasped at the tessellated squares, inwrought With metals curiously. Her childhood pass'd Like faery - amid fountains and green haunts - Trying her little feet upon a lawn Of velvet evenness, and hiding flowers In her sweet bosom, as it were a fair And pearly altar to crush incense on. Her youth - oh! that was queenly! She was like A dream of poetry that may not be Written or told - exceeding beautiful! And so came worshippers; and rank bow'd down, And breathed upon her heart, as with a breath Of pride, and bound her forehead gorgeously With dazzling scorn, and gave unto her step A majesty as if she trod the sea, And the proud waves, unbidden, lifted her. And so she grew to woman - her mere look Strong as a monarch's signet, and her hand The ambition of a kingdom. From all this Turn'd her high heart away! She had a mind, Deep and immortal, and it would not feed On pageantry. She thirsted for a spring Of a serener element, and drank Philosophy, and for a little while She was allay'd - till, presently, it turn'd Bitter within her, and her spirit grew Faint for undying waters. Then she came To the pure fount of God - and is athirst No more - save when the "fever of the world" Falleth upon her, she will go, sometimes, Out in the starlight quietness, and breathe A holy aspiration after heaven!