Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FRIDA AND HER POET, by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: A brave young poet born in days of eld Last Line: "thy little frida, loved so long ago!" Subject(s): Poetry & Poets | ||||||||
A BRAVE young poet born in days of Eld, Dwelt 'mid the frozen Northlands; he beheld, And wondering, sung the marvels of the ice, The swirl of snow-flakes, and the quaint device Wrought on the fir-trees by the glittering sleet; And loved on stormy heights, cloud-girt, to greet The gray ger-falcon towering o'er the sea; To watch the waves, and mark the cloud-drifts flee, Big with the wrath of tempests; yet his heart, Soft as the inner rose-leaves of the spring, Rich with young life, and love's sweet blossoming, Too soon, alas! from life and love did part: Veiled was the fate that smote him; unaware What sudden, blasting doom had drawn so near, A strange blight breathed upon him, and he died! On earth to die, in heaven be glorified, Such was the Minstrel's portion; still he went Through all the heavenly courts in discontent And sombre grief, the pathos of his woe Rising at times to such wild overflow As forced its wailful utterance into song. That passionate rush of music, the heart's wrong Set to the sweetness of harmonious chords, The All-Father, Odin, o'er the clash of swords, And din of heroes feasting at the boards Of loud Valhalla, heard: thereon he sought This lonely soul, in highest heaven o'er-fraught With mortal memories. "Wherefore lift'st thou here," The All-Father asked, "these measures of despair?" "Because my mortal Love," the Poet said, "With time grows gray and wrinkled; on her head, So golden bright in youth's benignant prime, Chill frosts of age have left their hoary rime; Her eyes are dimmed, her soft cheeks' rosy red Hath with the flowers of many a spring-time fled; And so when Heaven shall claim her -- ah! the pain! -- I shall not know mine earthly love again!" To whom the God, "But doth she love thee still?" "Her love, like mine, nor years, nor change can kill," The Minstrel answered: "Faith, a ceaseless shower, Keeps fair and bright our love's immaculate flower." "I loose thy heavenly bonds, -- I bid thee go!" The All-Father cried, "and seek thy Love below!" To earth he came: drear waste and flowery lea Beheld his search 'mid fettered folk and free; Yet all his toils but brought the direful stress Of lone heart-yearning, grief and weariness, Till hope died out and all his soul was dark. At last, when aimless as an autumn leaf Borne on November's idle winds afar, He roamed a sea-beach wild, by moon or star Unlighted in its dreariest hour of grief And desolate longing, on his eyes a spark Of tiny radiance through the clouded night Flashed from a cottage window on a height, Next the dim billows of the moaning main. There broke a sudden lightning on his brain Of prescient expectation, -- then, before Its glow could fade, he trod the cottage floor, And saw in tattered raiment, wan and dead, An ancient withered woman on a bed, Of whom a crone, as shrunk almost as she, Said with drawn lips and blinking wearily "Lo! here thine old Love! Hast thou come so far To find how cares may blight us, death may mar?" As ebbs a flood-tide, so his eager breath Sank slowly. "Oh, the awful front of death!" He moaned. "Yet wherefore shudder? Thou, my love, Art precious still; nor shalt thou move above, An alien soul, albeit no longer fleet, Nor fair, thou roam'st through Heaven with tottering feet, Bent, aged form, and face bedimmed by tears; I only ask to know thee, while the years Eternal roll!" He bids a last farewell To this world's life, again prepared to dwell On heights celestial, in whose golden airs The heart, at least, shall shed earth's wintry cares, And blooming, breathe the vernal heats of Heaven. Twice ransomed soul! thou spirit that hast striven With countless ills, and conquered all thy foes, Rise with the might of morning, the repose Of moonlit night, and entering Heaven once more -- Behold! who first doth meet thee by the door, With smiling brow, and gently parted lips, And eyes wherein no vestige of eclipse From pain, or death, or any evil thing, Lies darkly, but whose passionate triumphing, In peace attained, and true love crowned at last, Hath such rare joy and sweetness round her cast, She seems an angel on the heights of bliss. And yet a mortal maid 'twere heaven to kiss! To whom the singer, in a voice that seems Vague, and half-muffled in the mist of dreams: -- "Art thou the little Frida that I knew So long -- ah! long ago? Thine eyes are blue, Deep blue like hers, and brimmed with tender dew, Through which love's starlight smiles -- art thou, in sooth, The sweet, true-hearted Frida of my youth?" She drew more closely to the poet's side, And nestling her small hand in his, replied, As half in tremulous wonder, half delight: -- "I am thy little Frida, in thy sight Fair once, and well beloved -- Ah me! ah me! Hast thou forgotten?" "Nay; but whose" (quoth he,) "Yon withered corse, on which I gazed below, With pale shrunk limbs, and furrowed face of woe? Thy corse, thy face, they told me!" "Yea, but know, O Love! that earth, and things of earth, are past: That here, where, soul to soul, we meet at last, The merciful gods have made this wise decree: -- Love, in heaven's tongue, means immortality Of youth and joy; then, wheresoe'er we go, Loving and loved through these high courts divine, Mine eyes eternal youth shall drink from thine; And thou forevermore shalt find in me The tender maid who walked the world with thee, Thy little Frida, loved so long ago!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. 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