Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CHRISTMAS MUSINGS; ADDRESSED TO INATHE, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CHRISTMAS MUSINGS; ADDRESSED TO INATHE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Time flies apace - another year hath perished
Last Line: Sweet as thy smile, and radiant as thine eyes!
Alternate Author Name(s): Delta
Subject(s): Christmas; December; Holidays; Love; Winter; Nativity, The


I.

TIME flies apace—another year hath perished,
Perished, and joined the irrevocable past;
Hopes, in its progress brightly born and cherished,
Have been by shade o'ercast,
And sorrows, that seemed evils to our sight,
Have "turned their silver linings to the night:"
So little do we know of what is for us
Doomed by unerring Providence for good,
That, could the past from out its womb restore us
The visions we have wooed,
So inconsistent must existence seem,
That reason should seem frenzy, truth a dream.

II.

Time flies apace—since last ice-crown'd December
With his snow-mantle overlaid the earth,
What myriad hopes and fears do we remember,
That had their death or birth!
How many joys and sorrows, which have made
Life's pathway one all sunshine, or all shade!
Since last the ruddy Christmas hearth did brighten
The kindred faces of the social ring,
Since last the angel of the frost did whiten
The landscape with his wing,
Hath Misery from our firesides kept aloof?
Hath Death afforded of his power no proof?

III.

Ah! who can say thus much? and tho' hath cost me
Full many a heart-pang the departed year,
Yet why should I repine?—it hath not lost me
(What was of all most dear)
Thy love—an undeserved possession, worth
Far more than all the wealth of all the earth!
Yes, in that knowledge there are blessings treasured,
More than a kingdom's gold for me could but:
Oft are life's goods by a false standard measured
In Error's vulgar eye,
While happiness, true happiness, is found
In the heart's feelings, not in things around.

IV.

Summer was on the hills, when last we parted,
Flowers in the vale, and beauty in the sky;
Our hearts were true, altho' our hopes were thwarted:
Forward, with wistful eye,
Scarce half-resigned we looked, yet thought how sweet
'Twould be again in after-months to meet.
Now 'tis December chill: the moon is shining
O'er the grey mountains and the silly sea,
As, by the streamlet's willowy bend reclining,
I pause, remembering thee,
Who to the moonlight lent a softer charm,
As through these wilds we wandered, arm in arm.

V.

Yes! as we roamed, the sylvan earth seemed glowing
With many a beauty unremarked before:
The soulk was like a deep urn overflowing
With thoughts, a treasured store;
The very flowers seemed born but to exhale,
As breathed the West, their fragrance to the gale.
Methinks I see thee yet—thy form of lightness,
An angel phantom gliding through the trees,
Thine alabaster brow, thy cheek of brightness,
Thy tresses in the breeze
Floating their auburn, and thine eyes that made,
So rich their blue, heaven's azure like a shade.

VI.

Methinks even yet I feel thy timid fingers,
With their bland pressure, thrilling bliss to mine:
Methinks yet on my cheek thy breathing lingers,
As, fondly leant to thine,
I told how life all pleasureless would be,
Green palm-tree of earth's desert, wanting thee.—
Not yet, not yet, had Disappointment shrouded
Youth's summer calm with storms of wintry strife;
The star of Hope shone o'er our path unclouded;
And Fancy coloured life
With those elysian rainbow hues, which Truth
Melts with his rod, when disenchanting Youth.

VII.

Where art thou now? I look around, but see not
The features and the form that haunt my dreams:
Where art thou now? I listen, but for me not
The deep, rich music streams
Of that entrancing voice, which could bestow
A zest to pleasure and a balm to woe:
I miss thy smile, when morn's first light is bursting
Through the green branches of the casement tree;
To list thy voice my lonely ear is thirsting,
Beside the moonlight sea.
Vain are my longings, my repinings vain;
Sleep only gives thee to my arms again.

VIII.

Yet should it cheer me, that nor Woe hath shattered
The ties that link our hearts, nor Hate, nor Wrath;
And soon the day may dawn, when shall be scattered
All shadows from our path;
And visions be fulfilled, by Hope adored,
In thee, the long-lost, to mine arms restored.
Ah, could I see thee!—see thee, were it only
But for a moment looking bliss to me!
Ah, could I hear thee!—desolate and lonely
Is life, deprived of thee:
I start from out my reverie, to know
That hills between us rise, and rivers flow.

IX.

Let fickle Fortune change—be she preparing
To shower her arrows, or to shed her balm,
All that I ask for, pray for, is the sharing
With thee life's storm or calm;
For ah! with others, Wealth and Mirth would be
Less sweet by far than Sorrow shared with thee!
Yes! vainly, foolishly, the vulgar reckon,
That Happiness resides in outward shows:
Contentment from the lowliest cot may beckon
True Love to sweet repose;
For genuine bliss can ne'er be far apart,
When soul meets soul, and heart responds to heart.

X.

Farewell! let tyrannous Time roll on, estranging
The eyes and heart from each familiar spot,
Be fickle friendships with the seasons changing,
So that thou changest not!
I would not that the love, which owes its birth
To Heaven, should perish like the things of earth!—
Adieu! as falls the flooding moonlight round me,
Fall Heaven's best joys on thy beloved head;
May cares that harass, and may griefs that wound me,
Flee from thy path and bed!
Be every thought that stirs, and hour that flies,
Sweet as thy smile, and radiant as thine eyes!





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