SONNETS ON A SUMMER VOYAGE. BY E. SARGEANT. MORNING AFTER THE GALE. BRAVELY Our trim ship rode the tempest through; How flushed the orient every crested wave! Like routed hosts, with banners soiled and red. Tossed lightly from their heads the feathery spray. Ah! thus may Hope's auspicious star again Rise o'er the troubled soul where gloom and grief have been! TO A LAND-BIRD. Thou wanderer from green fields and leafy nooks! Where odorous blossoms drift along the brooks, Why hast thou left thy native bough to roam, With drooping wing, far o'er the briny billow? Thou canst not, like the osprey, cleave the foam, Nor, like the petrel, make the wave thy pillow. Thou 'rt like those fine-toned spirits, gentle bird! Which, from some better land, to this rude life Seem borne-they struggle, 'mid the common herd, With powers unfitted for the selfish strife! Haply, at length, some zephyr wafts them back To their own home of peace, across the world's dull track. A WISH. That I were in some forest's green retreat! Would I catch glimpses of the clouds that ride, [imbued. While through the alleys of the sunless wood SWEET boy! before thy lips can learn In speech thy wishes to make known, Are "thoughts that breathe and words that burn" Heard in thy music's tone. Were Genius tasked to prove the might, The magic of her hidden spell, She well might name thee with delight Who that hath heard, from summer trees, The sweet wild song of summer birds, When morning to the far-off breeze Whispers her bidding words; Or listened to the bird of night, The minstrel of the star-light hours, But deemed that spirits of the air Had left their native homes in heaven, And that the music warbled there To earth awhile was given? For with that music came the thought And when, sweet boy! thy baby fingers Wake sounds of heaven's own harmony, How welcome is the thought that lingers Upon thy lyre and thee! It calls up visions of past days, MUSIC. To us, and old remembered lays, Revive in joy or grief within us, Like lost friends wakened from their sleep With all their early power to win us Alike to smile or weep. And when we gaze upon that face, We think of better worlds than this, And know the only emblem meet Are strangers on Life's shores. 259 |