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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EDITH, by                    
First Line: Robed in strange beauty, she comes back to me
Last Line: The land where beauty ever fills the soul!
Alternate Author Name(s): Fisher, Caroline M.


ROBED in strange beauty, she comes back to me,
A shadowy vision from the spirit-land;
From eve till morn her phantom shape I see,
Beck'ning me ever with her moonlight hand.

Beloved Edith! dost thou come to breathe
Once more thy music on mine earthly ear?
Around my heart in passion-folds to wreathe
Mem'ries that still are all too deeply dear?

Forbear the task! for earth grows dark to me;
And shadows, deeper than my soul can bear,
Sweep o'er it oft, like tempests o'er the sea,
To leave all desolate and sunless there.

Tell me, sweet spirit! do they pass away --
These mournful shadows -- in the land of light?
Or linger onward through the heavenly day --
The only darkness where all else is bright?

Are the unutter'd yearnings which are nurst
Here, by the restless spirit, answer'd there?
Hath heaven a fountain for the quenchless thirst
Which through earth's weary pilgrimage we bear?

Thy quest was beauty -- such as we behold
Not while Time's fetters clog the spirit's wing:
A pure ethereal -- thou didst spurn the mould
Of earth, and closer to the heavenly cling.

In the pale clouds which wander through the sky --
In the bright stars that 'mid their orbits burn,
And light the spirit through the upturn'd eye --
Beauty thou saw'st few others can discern.

The first frail flowers -- sweet nurslings of the spring --
The drooping snow-drop and the violet fair,
To thy young heart a sudden thrill could bring,
A gushing joy, too rapturous to bear.

Yet did thy spirit, like a fetter'd dove,
Its bright ideal struggle still to gain;
Till the fond searcher, on the brow of Love,
Found it at length, and broke its weary chain.

Now, I believe, no cloud obscures thy sight --
No gliding spectre darkly steps between
The beautiful and thee; but, robed in light,
All thy soul yearn'd for by thine eye is seen.

Ay, by the lustre of thy starry brow --
The seraph-beauty on thy cheek imprest --
The joyous beams that through thy soft eyes glow --
Edith! beloved! I know that thou art blest

Spirit celestial! linger round me still,
With all the beauty thou hast sought and found,
And the deep urn within my bosom fill
From those bright rays which circle thee around.

Thy quest is mine! and thou my soul wilt teach
Through what blest paths to seek its lofty goal;
Lead me still on, and up, until I reach
The land where beauty ever fills the soul!





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