Contemplation

    '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!