The Morning Star.

Night's heavy hand is lifted up at last,
    And my freed heart beats evenly again,
    Unpress'd by that dull heavy weight of pain
Cast backward from the unforgotten Past;
    Darkness no longer muffles Time's slow tread,
    Till my own pulse-beat mark the moment fled.

Over the speeding shadows, calm and clear,
    Rises the Star of Morn upon the Earth,
    Eternal Prophet of the Sun-god's birth,
Shining serenely from its silver sphere
    Mute mystic meanings on the strengthen'd soul,
    Till all its night-bred vapours backward roll.

Oh, bright-eyed Angel of the undimm'd Light,
    Standing upon Heaven's pinnacle, thy glance
    Pierces like two-edged sword through many a trance,
Dividing Truth from Dreaming in its might,
    Scourging Doubt's myriads from Day's temple-gate,
    Leaving Life's worship pure, its heart elate.

No herald thou of Night, like Hesper fair,
    Pale with the dreaded Future's shapeless gloom,
    Leading the spirit to an unknown doom,
Through clouds and darkness heavy fraught with care,
    Hesper the beautiful alone our guide,
    Beset by blinding fears on every side.

Groping through Night's dim chambers wearily,
    Longing to leave its cold sepulchral aisles,
    Comest thou with thy calm assuring smiles,
Like Nemesis to lead us tenderly
    Through all the dangers of the murky way,
    Unto the golden portals of the Day.

Yea! Night and Death shall pass away, and we,
    By resurrection sweet, arise new-born
    Like thee in glory, bright one, Sons of Morn,
Without a shade on our felicity,
    Eyeing the fleeting vapours of the Past,
    As thou dost now Night's mists dissolving fast.

Walter R. Cassels

Walter R. Cassels was a British poet and author primarily known for his collection of religious poetry, "Supernatural Religion" published in the late 19th century. Though the work was initially published anonymously, it sparked considerable controversy and debate over its skeptical views on Christianity and the supernatural. Cassels' style is marked by thought-provoking themes and meticulous craftsmanship, placing him among notable literary figures of his time.

Walter R. Cassels

Guy Of Warwick. - An Episode.

Walter R. Cassels, Simple Poetry

Sea Margins.

Walter R. Cassels, Simple Poetry

De Profundis.

Walter R. Cassels, Simple Poetry

The Passage-Birds.

Walter R. Cassels, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Orion.

"A hunter of shadows, himself a shade."--HOMER.


Oh! weary sleeper by the lone sea-shore,
    Where billows toil for ever 'mid the rocks,
    Scourged on by winds in stormy equinox,
Rise! rise in haste, or slumber evermore!
    The stern Earth calls thee, and the Ocean mocks;
    Roll thy poor sightless orbs about the sky,
    Through tears of blind and powerless agony;
Rise! rise in haste, or slumber evermore!

Ay! blind I stand beside the lone sea-shore;
    Hearing the mighty murmur of the waves,
    Shaking with giant arms earth's architraves,
Scaling the riven cloud-crags bald and boar,
    Surging hoarse secrets through the central caves;
    God! shall thine ocean undiscernèd roll,
    Night on mine eyes, and darkness on my soul,
Groping...

Walter R. Cassels

The Star In The East.

O'er the wide world I wander evermore,
    Through wind and weather heedless and alone,
Alike through summer, and through winter hoar,
On cloud-capt mountain, by the sea-wash'd shore,
    Seeking the star that riseth in the East.

O'er the wide world--the world that knows not why,
And stares with stupid scorn to see me go;
Whilst I with solemn secret face pass by,
To laugh in desert spots where none are nigh,
    Laugh loud and shrill unto the winds, Ho! Ho!
    For that which none but I and _it_ do know.

To think how when I find this lucky star,
    And stand beneath it, like the Wise of old,
I shall mount upward on a golden car,
Girt round with glory unto worlds afar,
    While Earth amazed the wonder shall behold,
    That bears me unto happiness...

Walter R. Cassels

Song For The Night Of Christ's Resurrection.

(A Humble Imitation.)

"And birds of calm sit brooding on the charméd wave."

    It is the noon of night,
    And the world's Great Light
Gone out, she widow-like doth carry her:
    The moon hath veiled her face,
    Nor looks on that dread place
Where He lieth dead in sealéd sepulchre;
    And heaven and hades, emptied, lend
Their flocking multitudes to watch and wait the end.

    Tier above tier they rise,
    Their wings new line the skies,
And shed out comforting light among the stars;
    But they of the other place
    The heavenly signs deface,
The gloomy brand of hell their brightness mars;
    Yet high they sit in thronéd state, -
It is the hour of darkness to them dedicate.

    And first and highest set,
...

Jean Ingelow

At Eventide.

        The day fades fast;
And backward ebbs the tide of light
From the far hills in billows bright,
    Scattering foam, as they sweep past,
O'er the low clouds that bank the sky,
And barrier day off solemnly.

        Above the land
Grey shadows stretch out, still and cold,
Flinging o'er water, wood, and wold,
    Mysterious shapes, whose ghastly hand
    Presses down sorrow on the heart,
And silence on the lips that part.

        The dew-mist broods
Heavy and low o'er field and fen,
Like gloom above the souls of men;
    And through the forest solitudes
The fitful night-wind rustles by,
Breathing many a wailing sigh--

        O Day! O Life!
Ending in gloom together here--
Though not one star of Hope appear,
    Sti...

Walter R. Cassels

Matins.

Gray earth, gray mist, gray sky:
Through vapors hurrying by,
Larger than wont, on high
    Floats the horned, yellow moon.
Chill airs are faintly stirred,
And far away is heard,
Of some fresh-awakened bird,
    The querulous, shrill tune.


The dark mist hides the face
Of the dim land: no trace
Of rock or river's place
    In the thick air is drawn;
But dripping grass smells sweet,
And rustling branches meet,
And sounding water greet
    The slow, sure, sacred dawn.


Past is the long black night,
With its keen lightnings white,
Thunder and floods: new light
    The glimmering low east streaks.
The dense clouds part: between
Their jagged rents are seen
Pale reaches blue and green,
    As the mirk curtain b...

Emma Lazarus

Memnon.

Hot blows the wild simoom across the waste,
    The desert waste, amid the dreary sand,
    With fiery breath swift burning up the land,
O'er the scared pilgrim, speeding on in haste,
    Hurling fierce death-drifts with broad-scorching hand.

O weary Wilderness! No shady tree
    To spread its arms around the fainting soul;
    No spring to sparkle in the parchèd bowl;
No refuge in the drear immensity,
Where lies the Past, wreck'd 'neath a sandy sea,
    Where o'er its glories blighting billows roll.

Ho! Sea, yield up thy buried dead again;
    Heave back thy waves, and let the Past arise;
    Restore Time's relics to the startled skies,
Till giant shadows tremble on the plain,
    And awe the heart with old-world mysteries!

Old Menmon! Once ...

Walter R. Cassels