POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2590, 26 July 1882, Page 4

POETRY.

A LOVE’S LIFE. ’Twas spring-time of the day and year, Clouds of white fragrance hid the thorn ; ■ My heart unto her heart drew near. And, ere the dew had fled the morn, Sweet! Love was born. An August noon, an hour of bliss That stands amid my hours alone, A word, a look, then —ah, that kiss 1 Joy’s veil was rent, her secret known. Love was full grown. And now, this drear November eve. What has to-day seen done, heard said It boots not; who has tears to grieve For that last leaf yon tree has shed. Or for Love dead. GOOD BYE, PROUD WORLD. Wbittbk its 1882. Good-bye, proud world 1 I’m going home ; Xhon art not my friend; lam not thine ; Too long through weary orowds I roam — A riven ark on the ocean brine ; Too long I am tossed like the driven foam, But now, proud world, I’m going home ! Good-bye to Flattery’s fawning faoe, To Grandeur with his wild grimace j To upstart Wealth’s averted eye. To supple office, low and high ; To crowded hall*, to court and street, To frozen hearts and basting feet ; To thofe who go and those who come. Good-bye, proud world, I’m going home. I go to seek my own hearthstone. Bosomed in yon green hills alone ; A secret lodge in a pleasant land, Whose groves the frolic fairies planned, Where arches green the livelong day Echo the blackbird’s roundelay. And evil men have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God. Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I mock at the pride of Greece and Rome. And when I am stretched beneath the pines, Where the evening star so holy shines, I laugh at the lore and pride of man, At the sophist schools, and the learned olan ; For what are they all in their high oonoeit, When man in the bush with God may meet ? Ralph Waldo Embrsow.