"Tis not within the force of Fate The fate-conjoined to separate.

But thou, my votary, weepest thou?

I

gave thee sight, where is it now? I taught thy heart beyond the reach

Of ritual, bible, or of speech;
Wrote in thy mind's transparent table

As far as the incommunicable;
Taught thee each private sign to raise
Lit by the supersolar blaze.
Past utterance and past belief,

And past the blasphemy of grief,

The mysteries of nature's heart,—

And though no muse can these impart,

Throb thine with nature's throbbing breast,

And all is clear from east to west.

I came to thee as to a friend,

Dearest, to thee I did not send

Tutors, but a joyful eye,

Innocence that matched the sky,
Lovely locks a form of wonder,
Laughter rich as woodland thunder;
That thou might'st entertain apart
The richest flowering of all art;

And, as the great all-loving Day

Through smallest chambers takes its way,
That thou might'st break thy daily bread
With Prophet, Saviour, and head;

That thou might'st cherish for thine own
The riches of sweet Mary's Son,
Boy-Rabbi, Israel's Paragon :

And thoughtest thou such guest
Would in thy hall take up his rest?
Would rushing life forget its laws,
Fate's glowing revolution pause?
High omens ask diviner guess,
Not to be conned to tediousness.

And know, my higher gifts unbind

The zone that girds the incarnate mind,

When the scanty shores are full

With Thought's perilous whirling pool,

When frail Nature can no more,—

Then the spirit strikes the hour,

My servant Death with solving rite

Pours finite into infinite.

Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow,

Whose streams through nature circling go?

Nail the star struggling to its track

On the half-climbed Zodiack?

Light is light which radiates,

Blood is blood which circulates,
Life is life which generates,

And many-seeming life is one,

Wilt thou transfix and make it none,
Its onward stream too starkly pent

In figure, bone, and lineament?

Wilt thou uncalled interrogate

Talker the unreplying fate?

Nor see the Genius of the whole
Ascendant in the private soul,
Beckon it when to go and come,
Self-announced its hour of doom.
Fair the soul's recess and shrine,
Magic-built, to last a season,
Masterpiece of love benign!

Fairer that expansive reason

Whose omen 'tis, and sign.

Wilt thou not ope this heart to know

What rainbows teach and sunsets show,

Verdict which accumulates

From lengthened scroll of human fates,

Voice of earth to earth returned,

Prayers of hearts that inly burned;

Saying, what is excellent,

As God lives, is permanent,

Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain,

Heart's love will meet thee again.

Kevere the Maker; fetch thine eye

Up to his style, and manners of the sky.

Not of adamant and gold

Built he heaven stark and cold,

No, but a nest of bending reeds,
Flowering grass and scented weeds,
Or like a traveller's fleeing tent,
Or bow above the tempest pent,
Built of tears and sacred flames,
And virtue reaching to its aims;
Built of furtherance and pursuing,
Not of spent deeds, but of doing.
Silent rushes the swift Lord

Through ruined systems still restored,
Broad-sowing, bleak and void to bless,
Plants with worlds the wilderness,

Waters with tears of ancient sorrow

Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow;
House and tenant go to ground,

Lost in God, in Godhead found.

HYMN.

SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF CONCORD MONUMENT,

APRIL 19, 1836.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,

And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept,

Alike the Conqueror silent sleeps,

And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We set to-day a votive stone,

That memory may their deed redeem,

When like our sires our sons are gone.

Spirit! who made those freemen dare
To die, or leave their children free,
Bid time and nature gently spare

The shaft we raise to them and Thee.