— ! !

——

MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR. 11

The mist- like banners clasped the MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE
air, DYING YEAR.
As clouds witli fluuds embrace.
Yes, the Year is growing old.
But, whenthe old cathedral bell And his eye is pale and bleared!
Proclaimed the morning prayer, Death, witii frosty hand and cold.
The white pavilions rose and fell Plucks the old man by the beard,
On the alariU(Ml air. Sorely,— sorely

Down the broad valley fast and The leaves are falling, falling,
far Solenndy and slow ;

The troubled army fled ; Caw caw! the n^oks are

! calling.
Up morning
rose the glorious star, It is a sound of woe,
The ghastly host was dead. A sound of woe
I haveread, in the marvelous Through woods and mountain
heart of man, passes
That strange and mystic scroll. The winds, like anthems, roll;
That an army of phantoms vast and They are chanting solemn masses,
wan Singing; " Pray for this poor
Beleaguered the human soul. soul,
Pray,— pray.
Encamped beside Life's rushing
stream, And the hooded clouds, like friars.
In fancy's misty liglit. Tell their beads in drops of rain.
Gigantic shapes and shadows And palter their doleful prayers;
gleam But tiieir prayers are all in vain,
Portentous througli the night. All in vain!

There he stamls in the foulweather,

Upon its midnight battle-ground
The spectral cami) is seen, The foolish, fond Old Year.
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, Crowned with wild flowers and
Flows the River of Life between. with heather.
Like weak, despised Lear,
No other voice, nor sound is there,
A king,— a king!

In the army of the grave; Then comes the summer-like day,

No other challenge breaks the air. Bids the old man rejoice!
But the ruslnng of Life's wave. His joy! his last! O, the old man
gray,
And, when the solemn and deep Jjovetli that ever-soft voice,
cliurcii i)cll Gentle and low.
Entreats tlie soul to pray,
Tiie midnigiit phantoms feel the To the crimson woods lie saith,
spell To the voice gentle and h>\v
The shadows sweep away. Of th(! soft air, like a daughter's
breath,
Down the broad Vale of Tears " Pray do not mock me so!
"
afar, ]")() not laugh at me!

Tlie spectral camp is fled ;

Faith shineth as a morning star, And now the sweet day is dead;
Our ghastly fears are dead. Cold in his arms it lies;
 ! ! ! ;
!

12 LONGFELLOW'S POEMS.
No stain from its breath is spread Howl! howl! and from the forest
Over the glassy skies, Sweep the red leaves away
No mist or strain Would the sins that thou thus ab-
horrest,
Then, too, the Old Year dieth, O Soul could thus decay,
!

And the forests utter a moan. And be swept away!

Like the voice of one who crieth
In tlie wilderness alone, For there shall come a mightier
" Vex not his ghost! " blast,
There shall be a darker day
Then comes, an awful roar,
Avith And the stars from heaven down-
Gathering and sounding on, cast,
The storm-wind from Labrador, Like red leaves be swept away !

The wind Euroclydon, Kyrie, eleyson

The storm-wind Christe, eleysou!

EARLIER POEMS.
[These poems were written for the most part during my college life, and all of them before
the age of nineteen. Some have found their way into schools, and seem to be successful.
Others lead a vagabond and precarious existence in the corners of newspapers or have :

changed their names and run away to seek their fortunes beyond the sea. I say, with the
Bishop of Avranches, on a similar occasion " I cannot be displeased to see these children
:

of mine, which I have neglected, and almost exposed, brought from their wanderings in
lanes and alleys, and safely lodged, iu order to go forth into the world together in a more
decorous garb."!

AN APRIL DAY. The softly-warbled song

Comes from the pleasant woods,
When the warm sun, that and colored wings
brings Glance quick in the bright sun,
Seed-time and harvest, has returned that moves along
again, The forest openings.
'Tis sweet to visit the still wood,
where springs When the bright sunset fills
The first flower of the plain. The silver woods with light, the
green slope throws
I love the season well, Its shadows in the hollows of the
When teeming
forest glades are hills.
with bright forms. And wide the upland glows.-
Nor dark and many -folded clouds
foretell And, when the eve is born,
The coming-on of storms. In the blue lake the sky, o'erreach-
ing far.
From the earth's loosened Is hollowed out, and the moon
mould dips her horn.
The sapling draws its sustenance, And twinkles many a star.
and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with Inverted in the tide,
winter's cold, Stand the gray rocks, and trem-
The drooping tree revives. bling shadows throw.
 ; !

WOODS IN WINTER. 13

And tlie fair trees look over, side And silver beech, and maple yel-
by side, low-leaved,
And see themselves below. Where autunm, like a faint old
man, sits down
Sweet April !
—
many a thovight By the wayside a-weary. Through
Is wediled unto tliee, as hearts are the trees
wed The golden robin moves. The
Nor shall tlu-y fail, till, to its purple finch.
autmiiu brought, That on wild cherry and red cedar
Life's golden fruit is shed. feeds,
A winter bird, comes with its
plaintive whistle.
AUTU^IN. And i)ecks by the witch-hazel,
With what glory comes and goes whilst aloud
the year! From cottage roofs the warbling
Tlie buds "of spring, tho^;e beauti- bluebird sings,
ful harbingers And nurrih', with oft-repeated
Of sunny skies and cloudless times, stroke.
enjoy Sounds from the threshing-floor
Life's newness, and earth's garni- the busy flail.
ture spread out;
And when the silver habit of the O what a glory doth this world
clouds put on
Comes down ui)ou the autumn From him Avho, with a fervent
sun, and with heart, goes forth
A sober gladness the old year Under the bright and glorious sky,
takes up and looks
His bright inheritance of golden On duties well j)crforn\ed, and
fruits,
days well spent
A pomp and pageant fill the splen- For him the wind, a\', and the
did scene. }ellow leaves
Shall have a voice, and give him
There is a beautiful spiritbreath- eloquent teachings;
ing now lie shall so hear the solemn hynm,
Its mellow richness on the clus- that Death
tered trees. Has lifted up for all, that he shall
And, from a beaker full of richest go
dyes, To his long resting-place without a
Pouring new glory on the autumn tear.
woods,
And dipjjing in warm light the
pillared clouds. WOODS IN W^INTER.
Morn on ihe mountain, like a Whkx winter winds are piercing
summer bird. chili.
Lifts up her purple wing, and in And through the hawthorn
the vales 1)1(1 \vs tile gale,
The gentle wind, a sweet and pas- With solemn feet 1 tread the hill
sionate wooer. That overbrows the k)nely vale.
Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs
up life O'er the liare upland, and away
Within the .solenui woods of ash Tlirougli Hie long reach of desert
deep-crimsoned, woods.
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14 LONGFELLOW'S POEMS.
The embracing sunbeams chastely Far the glimmering tapers shed
play, Faint light on the cowled head
And gladden these deep soli- And the censer burning swung.
tudes. Where, before the altar, hung
The blood-red banner, that
Where, twisted round the barren with prayer
oak. Had been consecrated there.
The summer vine in beauty And the nun's sweet hymn was
clung, heard the while,
A.nd summer winds the stillness Sung low in the dim, mysterious
broke, aisle.
The crystal icicle is hung.

Where from their frozen urns,

"Take thy banner! May it

mute springs wave

Proudly o'er the good and
Pour out the river's gradual tide.
brave;
Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the sabbath of our vale,
side.
When the clarion's music
Alas! how changed from the fair thrills
scene. To the hearts of these lone
When birds sang out their mel- hills.

low lay, When the spear in conflict

And winds were soft, and woods shakes.
were green. And the strong lance shivering
And the song ceased not with breaks.
the day.
" Take thy banner! and, be-
But wild music is abroad.
still neath
Pale, desert woods! within your The battle-cloud's encircling
crowd wreath.
And gathering winds, in hoarse Guard it! — our homes are
till
accord. free
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. Guard it! — God will prosper
thee!
Chill airs and wintry winds! my In the dark and trying hour.
ear In the breaking forth of power.
Has grown familiar with your In the rush of steeds and men.
song; His right hand will shield
I hear it in the opening year,— thee then.
I listen, and it cheers me long.
" Take thy banner! But, when
night
HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN Closes round the ghastly fight.
If the vanquished warrior bow,
NUNS OF BETHLEHEM, Spare him —
By our holy vow,
!

AT THE CONSECRATION OP PULASKl's By our pra^'ers and many tears,

BANNER. By the mercy that endears.
Spare him —
he our love hath
!

When the dying flame of day shared

Through the chancel shot its Spare him! as thou wouldst —
ray, be spared
 —

SUNRISE ON THE HILLS. 15

"Take thy banner! — and if e'er Martial cloak and shroud for
Thou sliuiildst press the sol- thee."
dier's bier,
And the muffled drum should The warrior took that banner
beat proud,
To the tread of mournful feet, And it was his martial cloak and
Then this crimson tlag shall be shroud!

SUNRISE ON THE HILLS.

ISTOOD upon the hills, wlien heaveu's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and .soft gales
Went fortli to kiss the sun-elad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; — l)athed in light.
The}' gathered midway round tlie woudetl height.
And, in their fading-glor}', shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown,
As many a pinnacle, witii shifting glance,
Through tlie gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,
And rocking on the cliff was left
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.
The veil of cloud was lifted, and below
Glowed the rich valley, ami the rivers flow
Was darkened b}' the forest's shade,
Orglistened in the white cascade;
AVliere upward, in tiie mellow blusli of day.
Tile noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.

I heard the dist^ant waters dasli,

saw the current wiiirl antl flash,
I
And richly, by tlie blue lake's silver beach.
The woods were bending witli a silent reach.
Then o'er tlie vale, witii gentle swell,
Tlie music of tiie village bell
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,

Was ringing to the merry shout,

That faint and far the glen sent out,
Wiii'ri'. iinswcrinii' to the suddi'U shot, thin smoke.
Through llii(;k-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.

If thou art worn and hard beset

With sorrows, that tiiou wouldst forget.
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Thy heart from faintinjr antl thy soul from sleep.
Go to the woods and hills! — No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.