Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON CARLO DOLCE'S MAGDALEN, by SARAH HELEN POWER WHITMAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ON CARLO DOLCE'S MAGDALEN, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Thou fairest penitent! How pure the light
Last Line: And the lone heart of love, in heaven its home of rest!
Subject(s): Mary Magdalen; Women - Bible; Mary Magdalene


THOU fairest penitent! how pure the light
That mantling o'er that pale transparent brow,
Through sorrow's shade, shines tremulously bright;
And melts in rose-hues o'er thy cheek of snow.
As if thy Saviour's smile of pardoning love
Had o'er thy beauty a soft halo thrown;
And poured those rays of glory from above,
Circling thy temples like a silvery crown,
Flooding with mellow light thy long, fair hair,
Whose waves of shadowy gold ungathered fall,
Nor longer, 'mid their wild luxuriance, wear
The flashing gem, or flowery coronal.

Though every line of that sweet thoughtful face
Seems touched by sorrow to a softer grace,
Though o'er thy cheek's young bloom a blight hath pass'd,
And dimm'd its pensive beauty; -- from thine eye,
With the soft gloom of gathering tears o'ercast,
Doth love shine forth o'er all triumphantly;
A light which shame nor sorrow could impair,
Unquench'd, undimm'd, through years of lone despair.

Yet in that humid mirror trembles still
A deprecating sweetness; -- a fond fear
That the deep love, which found no answering thrill
In human hearts, might nought avail thee here.

Poor wanderer! by the world's cold scorn opprest,
'Mid the wild wreck of happiness and fame,
Love lingered still within that blighted breast
As when thy lips first lisp'd a mother's name.

Woe for the hearts, poor prodigal, like thine,
Wasting their treasures o'er an earthly shrine --
The full deep treasures of the yearning heart --
To win what earthly love could ne'er impart; --
Vainest of life's vain dreams! yet didst thou find
That rock at last whence living waters burst,
And 'neath its sheltering canopy reclined,
Quenched, at that gushing fount, thy lone heart's thirst.

Oh! love -- immortal love! not all in vain
The young heart wastes beneath life's weary chain,
Filled with thy bright ideal, -- whose excess
Of beauty mocks our utter loneliness! --
The weary bark long tossing on the shore
Shall find its haven when the storm is o'er;
The wandering bee its hive; -- the bird its nest; --
And the lone heart of love, in heaven its home of rest!





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