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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), August 1833, Edition 1 of 1, Page 561, Untitled Article

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      Untitled Article

      Nettles and thorns and ivy overspread The high places of the tyrants of old days ; Arid o ' er their weed-choked hearths is idly read The little name of each dull thing that strays From his poor pigmy hovel , to crush'd towers , Where the past ' s shadow clasps and overpowers The substance of the present . Some few flowers Amid these silent ruins breathe and smile ; And birds and insects frame their brooding bowers In the cleft walls—as if to reconcile The eternal enmity of birth and death , Ashes with blood , and airless dust with breath .

      The fulness and the vacancy of being , Reality and vision , truth and fable Alternately with blindness and with seeing Endue my pausing spirit ; and , unstable , Yield mingled visitings of faith and doubt : Pale adumbrations ot this wreck without Come to the chaos within—I darkly dream , Lull'd bv the unseen flow of my mind ' s cavern'd stream .

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      Mary . 561

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      * \ y *

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      Thou art not beautiful , if freshest youth Or fairest form doth make the asker ' s creed ; But thou art beautiful , if love , and truth , And wisdom , who wait on thee still to feed Thine eye , thy smile , thy voice , —be all we need . They know thee not who love thee not , they wear A blinding veil , that makes them idly heed Thy gentleness to win , meekness to bear , Thy strength to live or die , for what thy soul holds dear . I watch thee when in mood quiet and holy

      Thou sittest rapt—I dream there is no taint On this most lovely world , of pain or folly—I gaze on thee as on a pictured saint In some cathedral niche , where thro' the faint And hallow'd shade , from glass of many dies , All things how bright soe ' er are made acquaint With gloom—o ' er all the spell of twilight lies—Yet fadeth not the light in those upraised eyes . I gaze again , when in less tranquil mood The spirit thro' thy thrilling frame doth move , Thy mind all eager for its work of good , Thy heart all busy at its work of love , The quivering lip , the trembling hand that prove Thy tenderness is truth—I gaze and see The longing soul pant for its home above , Strive with the frame that will not set it free To seek a world where all are angels like to thee .

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      MARY .

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      No . 80 . 2 R

  • Citation
    • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Aug. 2, 1833, page 561, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2620/page/49/