Loved And Lost, or The Sky-Lark And The Violet

LOVED AND LOST, - OR - THE SKY-LARK AND THE VIOLET.


VIOLET'S SONG

I.

        Come down from thy dazzling sphere,
            Bird of the gushing song!
Come down where the young leaves whisper low,
While the breeze steals in with a murmurous flow,
And the tender branches wave to and fro
            In the soft air all day long!

        I have watched thy daring wing
            Cleaving the sun-bright air,
Where the snowy cloud is asleep in light,
Or dreamily floating in robes of white,
While thy soul gushed forth in its song's free might,
            Till my spirit is dim with care.

        For oh, I have loved thee well,
            Thou of the soaring wing! -
And I fear lest the angels that sit on high,
In the calm, still depths of the upper sky,
Will love with a tenderer love than I,
            As they stoop to hear thee sing

        Come down from the heights, my bird,
            And warble thy lays to me!
I shall pine and droop in my grassy nook
For the passionate song that my spirit shook,
And the low, sad voice of the grieving brook
            Will murmur all night of thee!

        I shall sit alone - alone,
            While the noontide hour steals by;
And mournful the woodland's music will be, -
Mournful the blue, calm heavens to me, -
Mournful the glory on earth and sea, -
            And mournful the sunset sky!

        O voice of exulting song! -
            O bright, unwavering eye! -
O free wing soaring in fetterless flight
Up to the Fountain of quenchless Light! -
O, Earth that darken'st in sudden night,
            I shudder, and faint, and die!


SKY-LARK'S SONG

II.

From the dewy grass upspringing -
From my wing the pearl-drops flinging -
Upward, with exultant singing,
            Let me - let me fly!
Sun, with gemmed and flashing banners,
List my rapturous hosannas -
            As I mount, on circling wing,
Higher, o'er the fragrant meadow, -
O'er the forest's broken shadow, -
O'er the hill-tops green and golden, -
Where the ivied ruins olden
Echo out with sudden gladness
As I break their brooding sadness
            With the lays I sing!

Joy, joy! - I have caught the song
            Of the angels that sit above! -
And warble in musical chorus alway
Those notes that oftentimes earthward stray
So tenderly sweet at the fall of day,
What time the rose-bud's trembling spray
            Thrills with their lays of love! -
Joy, joy! - I have caught the song
            Of bright ones that sit above! -
And the far-off Earth's a forgotten thing,
As I mount on free and fetterless wing,
Up to the sun-fields where they sing,
            Drawn on by their soul of love!

                Hush! is it a voice of Earth -
                Of the far-away Earth, I hear?
            Breathing of the fragrant meadow, -
            Of the drooping willow's shadow, -
            Of the breezes' gentle sighing, -
            Of the brooklet's low replying, -
            Of the blue, o'er-arching heaven, -
            Of the violet-curtained even, -
            Of the tender, dreamy starlight, -
            Of the hushed, majestic midnight? -
And through all that murmur so sad and low,
Meanings of passionate anguish flow,
Till I feel a weight on my glancing wing
Bearing me earthward while yet I sing,
            With its burden of heavy woe.


VIOLET'S SONG

III.

    Bird, I am drooping in tears alone,
Pressing my cheek 'gainst the cold, grey stone,
And looking upward with aching eye,
Through the tender depths of the morning sky; -
But thy form fades out in that glorious sea
That lieth so calmly 'twixt thee and me;
A speck - it is lost in the azure deep!
And I droop in the deepening gloom, and weep
            My sorrowful life away!

            O voice of passionate song! -
            O bright, unwavering eye! -
O free wing soaring in limitless flight
Beyond the stretch of my aching sight!
How the cold earth darkens in sudden night!
            How I shudder, and faint, and die!


SKY-LARK'S SONG

IV.

Fainter and fainter - 'tis heard no more -
That plaintive strain from Earth's lessening shore -
And I fling its weight from my fetterless wing,
Higher and higher in heaven to sing,
        Afar from Earth's faded shore!
    I shall take my seat in the clouds,
    I shall sit beside the Sun, -
I shall gaze with calm, unfaltering eye
    On the face of the radiant one!
    O glorious, kingly Sun! -
    O brightly beautiful one! -
O Monarch, sitting serenely bright,
In thy quenchless glory on heaven's height,
    I am upward drawn to thee! -
And thy fiery spirit's ardent flame
Is downward-drawn to me!
Sun, with gemmed and flashing banners,
List my rapturous hosannas,
As I circle nearer, - nearer, -
Where your rays burn brighter, clearer, -
Up, on wings of strong desire,
Higher still, and ever higher!


VIOLET'S SONG

V.

    I droop by the cold, grey stone! -
        I faint in the smitten day! -
I hear not the song of my own free bird
Whose joyous music my glad heart stirred
But yester-morn! I can see no more
The humming-bird's wing as it flutters o'er
            The fragrant clover-bloom!
The brook, with a far-off, sorrowful tone,
Seemeth in measureless grief to moan
        As it hurrieth on its way -
            The breath of my lost perfume
        Floats on the wandering breeze,
    Over the meadow's perishing bloom,
        Over the cold, blue seas!
    I would not gather it back,
        I would not fill anew
With love's pure incense my broken urn,
For the lost can never more return
    From the sky's encompassing blue!

    It is well! - I would not hang
        A weight on his fetterless wing;
For was he not make for the sun-bright sky? -
To face the glories that burn on high? -
And I, to sit 'mid Earth's fading bloom,
And waste my life in the faint perfume
            I fling to the thankless breeze? -
Let him cleave the azure infinite! -
Let him pour his soul out in song's free might! -
Till the white-robed seraphs that dwell in light
            Shall stoop to hear him sing! -
Be it mine to fade ere the day-beams die,
And alone in the sighing grass to lie,
With my dull face turned to the tearless sky,
            A faded, forgotten thing!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Rich And Poor

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

No Other Name

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Heart-Pictures

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

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By And By

        God will not let His bright gifts die
If I may not sing my songs just now
        I shall sing them by and by


A young man with a Poet's soul,
    And a Poet's kindling eye -
Dark, dreamy, full of unvoiced thought -
    And forehead calm and high,
Toiled wearily at his heavy task
    Till his soul grew sick with pain,
And the pent up fires that burned within
    Seemed withering heart and brain

"Work, work, work!" he murmured low,
    Glancing up at the golden west -
Work, with the sunset heavens aglow
    By the hands of angels dressed,
Work for this perishing, human clay,
    While the soul, like a prisoned bird,
Flutters its helpless wings always
    By passionate longings stirred

"I hear in the wandering...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Lilith. The Legend Of The First Woman. Book II.

Soft stealing through the shade, and skirting swift
The walls of Paradise, through night's dark rift
Lilith fled far; nor stopped lest deadly snare
Or peril by the wayside lurked.
The air
Grew chill. Loud beat her heart, as through the wind
Echoed, unseen, pursuing feet, behind.

Adown the pathway of the mist she passed,
And reached a weird, strange land at last.
When morning flecked the dappled sky with red,
And odors sweet from waking flowers were shed,
Lilith beheld a plain, outstretching wide,
With distant mountains seamed.
Afar, a silvery tide
The blue shore kissed.    And in that tropic glow
Dim islands shone, palm-fringed, and low.
In nearer space, like scarlet arrows flew
Strange birds, or 'mong the reedy fens, or through
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Ada Langworthy Collier

A Lily And A Lute.

(Song of the uncommunicated Ideal.)

I.

I opened the eyes of my soul.
    And behold,
A white river-lily: a lily awake, and aware, -
For she set her face upward, - aware how in scarlet and gold
A long wrinkled cloud, left behind of the wandering air,
    Lay over with fold upon fold,
    With fold upon fold.

And the blushing sweet shame of the cloud made her also ashamed,
The white river-lily, that suddenly knew she was fair;
And over the far-away mountains that no man hath named,
    And that no foot hath trod,
Flung down out of heavenly places, there fell, as it were,
A rose-bloom, a token of love, that should make them endure,
Withdrawn in snow silence forever, who keep themselves pure,
    And look up to God.
Then I said, "In r...

Jean Ingelow

The Nightingale Unheard

Yes, Nightingale, through all the summer-time
    We followed on, from moon to golden moon;
    From where Salerno day-dreams in the noon,
And the far rose of Pæstum once did climb.
    All the white way beside the girdling blue,
Through sun-shrill vines and campanile chime,
    We listened;--from the old year to the new.
        Brown bird, and where were you?

You, that Ravello lured not, throned on high
    And filled with singing out of sun-burned throats!
    Nor yet Minore of the flame-sailed boats;
Nor yet--of all bird-song should glorify--
    Assisi, Little Portion of the blest,
Assisi, in the bosom of the sky,
    Where God's own singer thatched his sunward nest;
        That little, heavenliest!

And north and north, to where the hedge-row...

Josephine Preston Peabody

The Feaster

Oh, who will hush that cry outside the doors,
    While we are glad within?
Go forth, go forth, all you my servitors;
    (And gather close, my kin.)
Go out to her. Tell her we keep a feast,--
    Lost Loveliness who will not sit her down
        Though we implore.
It is her silence binds me unreleased,
    It is her silence that no flute can drown,
        It is her moonlit silence at the door,
Wide as the whiteness, but a fire on high
    That frights my heart with an immortal Cry,
        Calling me evermore.

Louder, you viols;--louder, O my harp;
    Let me not hear her voice;
And drown her keener silence, silver-sharp,
    With waves of golden noise!
For she is wise as Eden, even mute,
    To search my spirit through the deep and height

Josephine Preston Peabody

Jetsam

        I wonder can this be the world it was
        At sunset? I remember the sky fell
        Green as pale meadows, at the long street-ends,
        But overhead the smoke-wrack hugged the roofs
        As if to shut the city from God's eyes
        Till dawn should quench the laughter and the lights.
        Beneath the gas flare stolid faces passed,
        Too dull for sin; old loosened lips set hard
        To drain the stale lees from the cup of sense;
        Or if a young face yearned from out the mist
        Made by its own bright hair, the eyes were wan
        With desolate fore-knowledge of the end.
        My life lay waste about me: as I walked,
        From the gross dark of unfrequented streets
        The face of my own youth peered forth at me,

William Vaughn Moody

Loved And Lost,  or  The Sky-Lark And The Violet

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Loved And Lost, or The Sky-Lark And The Violet