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.

English

Walter R. Cassels

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Sea Margins.

        Ever restless, ever toiling,
    Fretting fiercely on its narrow bounds,
    Still filling heaven and earth with mournful sounds,
Old ocean, sullen from its rocks recoiling,
    Rearing wild waves foam-crested to the sky,
    Lashes again the beaches angrily:

        Slowly victor-like advancing,
    Marching roughly o'er the conquer'd land,
    Clean sweeping olden limits from the strand,
In proud derision o'er the spoil'd Earth glancing,
    Where 'neath its ruthless tide on hill or plain,
    No flower or shady leaf shall bud again.

        Slowly thus the ocean creeping,
    Creeping coldly o'er the world of old,
    Stole many an Eden from the Age of Gold,
And gazing now we see blank billows sweeping,
    Long cheerless wavings of the ...

Walter R. Cassels

Serenade.

The day is fading from the sky,
    And softly shines the Star of Even,
As watching with a lover's eye
    The rest of Earth the peace of Heaven;
The dew is rising cool and sweet,
    And, zephyr-rock'd, the flowers are closing,
The Night steals on with noiseless feet,
    Oh! gentle be my love's reposing.

The streamlet, as it flows along,
    Sounds like a voice 'mid childhood's slumbers;
And from the brake the Queen of Song
    Pours forth her softest, clearest numbers;
And ever through the stirless leaves
    The summer moon is brightly streaming,
Light fancies on the sward it weaves,--
    As radiant be my lady's dreaming.

The silent hours move swiftly on,
    With many a blessed vision laden,
That all the night has softly shone
...

Walter R. Cassels

Song.

Love took me softly by the hand,
    Love led me all the country o'er,
And show'd me beauty in the land,
    That I had never dreamt before,
    Never before, Oh! Love! sweet Love!

There was a glory in the morn,
    There was a calmness in the night,
A mildness by the south wind borne,
    That I had never felt aright,
    Never aright, Oh! Love! sweet Love!

But now it cannot pass away,
    I see it wheresoe'er I go,
And in my heart by night and day,
    Its gladness waveth to and fro,
    By night and day, Oh! Love! sweet Love!

Walter R. Cassels

Song.

The days are past, the days are past,
    When we did meet, my love and I;
And youthful joys are fading fast,
    Like radiant angels up the sky;
But still with every dawning day
    Come back the blessed thoughts of old,
Like sunshine in a morn of May,
    To keep the heart from growing cold.

The flowers are gone, the leaves are shed,
    That waved about us as we stray'd;
And many a bird for aye has fled,
    That chaunted to us from the glade;
Yet every leaf and flower that springs
    In beauty round the ripening year,
And every summer carol brings
    New sweetness from the old time dear.

Walter R. Cassels

Sonnet.

O Cloud so golden, stealing o'er the sky,
Like pensive thought across a virgin mind,
Scarce sadder than the sunshine left behind;
Would that o'er heaven with thee my soul could fly,
Scanning Earth's beauty with a lover's eye,
Tracing the waving waters and the woods,
Their sleepy shades and silent solitudes,
Where all the summer through I long to lie.
O Cloud so golden stealing o'er the sky,
Sail'd I within thy bosom o'er heaven's main,
Methinks that, gazing downward on the glory,
The liquid loveliness of sea and plain,
Of mountain, isle, and leafy promontory,
My soul would melt and fall again in rain.

Walter R. Cassels

Sonnet. Datur Hora Quieti.

The sun is slowly sinking in the West;
The plough lies idle, and the weary team,
Cool'd with the freshness of the shallow stream,
Over the meadows hasten to their rest;
The breeze is hush'd, and no more turns the mill,
With its light sails upon yon rising crest;
Its busy music now awhile is still,
And not a sound heaves up from Nature's breast;
The barks upon the river smoothly ride,
With sails all furl'd, and flags that listless fall,
Unrock'd, unshaken by the flowing tide;
The cattle lazy lie within the stall;
And thus the Time-stream on doth sweetly glide,
Bearing repose and slumber unto all.

Walter R. Cassels

Sonnets - On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington. (4)

1.

The Land stood still to listen all that day,
And 'mid the hush of many a wrangling tongue,
Forth from the cannon's mouth the signal rung,
That from the earth a man had pass'd away--
A mighty Man, that over many a field
Roll'd back the tide of Battle on the foe,--
Thus far, no further, shall thy billows go.
Who Freedom's falchion did right nobly wield,
Like potter's vessel smiting Tyrants down,
And from Earth's strongest snatching Victory's crown;
Upon the anvil of each Battle-plain,
Still beating swords to ploughshares. All is past,--
The glory, and the labour, and the pain--
The Conqueror is conquer'd here at last.


2.

Yet other men have wrought, and fought, and won,
Cutting with crimson sword Fame's Gordian knot,
And, dyin...

Walter R. Cassels

Spring.

On, like a giant, stalketh the strong Wind,
    Wrapping the clouds about him, close and dark,
Rifting Creation's soul, for rage is blind,--
    No pity hath he for the Earth all stark,
Shivering beneath the loose and drifting snow,
A scanty shroud to hide the dead below.

Dead? There is life within the mother's breast--
    So claspeth she her young ones to her heart;--
"The time will come--the time will come--rest! rest!
    Let the mad greybeard to his North depart;
Earth shall arise and mock him in his grave--
Patience a little, let the dotard rave!"

The palsied boughs grew still--there came a pause,
    And Nature's heart scarce beat for listening,
Gazing abroad from all the tempest-flaws,
    With prayerful longing for the saviour Spring;
And ...

Walter R. Cassels

The Bell.

Through the calm and silent air
    Floats the tolling funeral bell,
    Swooning over hill and dell,
Heavy laden with despair;
    Mute between each muffled stroke,
    Sad as though a dead voice spoke,
    Out of the dim Past time spoke,
Stands my heart all mute with care.

The Bell is tolling on, and deep,
    Deep and drear into my heart
    All its bitter accents dart.
Peace! sad chime, I will not weep--
    What is there within thy tone,
    That should wring my heart alone,
    Rive it with this endless moan?
Peace! and let past sorrows sleep!

Fling your music on the breeze,
    Mock the sighing of the willows,
    Mock the lapping of the billows,
Mock not human sympathies;
    Slow chime, sad chime, mock me not,
    ...

Walter R. Cassels

The Bittern.

The reeds are idly waving o'er the marshy ground,
The rank and ragged herbage rots on many a mound,
And desolate pools and marshes deadly lie around.

There is no life nor motion, save the winds that fly
With the close-muffled clouds in silence through the sky,
There is no sound to stir it, save the Bittern's cry;

The Bittern, sitting sadly on the fluted edges
Of pillars once the prop and pride of palace ledges,
Now smear'd with damp decay and sunk in slimy sedges;

Shatter'd and sunken, with the sculptured architrave
Peering above the surface of the sluggish wave,
Like a gaunt limb thrust fleshless from a shallow grave.

The Bittern sitteth sadly on the time-worn stone,
Upon life's mouldering relics, fearfully alone,
Searing the silence ofttimes wi...

Walter R. Cassels

The Dark River.

    Across the mountains and the hills,
Across the valleys and the swelling seas,
    By lakes and rivers whose deep murmur fills
Earth's dreams with sweet prophetic melodies,
    Together have we come unto this place,
    And here we say farewell a little space:

    You, backward turning through the land,
To tarry 'mid its beauty yet awhile--
    I, o'er the River, to another strand
With cheerful heart, so part we with a smile.
    Shall space have any power o'er god-like souls?
    Love shall bridge o'er the stream that 'twixt us rolls!

    Together wend we to the tide,
And as the first wave wets my foot, we part;--
    E'en now methinks I see the other side;
And, though the stream be swift, a steady heart
    And stalwart arm shall quell its col...

Walter R. Cassels

The Delectable Mountains.

    How light and pleasant is the way
Across this quiet valley, whose soft mead
Springs lightly as the air that angels tread,
    Beneath our footsteps weariless all day!
This crystal river flowing by our side,
One stream of sunshine, still has seem'd a guide
    From Heaven in pure angelical array.

    These purple mountains now are nigh,
That all the valley through have fill'd our eyes
With day-dreams of the distant Paradise,
    Their sun-surrounded summits can descry--
We mount them now upon Hope's bounding wing,
That makes each short swift footstep long to spring
    Suddenly upward to the shadeless sky.

    The air methinks is lighter here--
And the breast heaves with full untrammell'd ease,
Drinking the life-draught of the fragrant breeze,

Walter R. Cassels

The Eagle.

The winds sweep by him on his mountain throne,
Hurling the clouds together at his feet,
Till Earth is hidden, lost, and swallow'd up
As in the flood of waters,--and he sits
Eyeing the boundless firmament above,
Proud and unruffled, till his heart exclaims,--
"I am a god, Heaven is my home,--the Earth
Serveth me but for footstool."

The strong winds
Sweep on, and wide his pinions spreadeth he,--
"Bear me afar!" and on the mighty storm
He rides triumphant, spurning the dim Earth--
Whither, O whither goest thou? What star
Shall raise its mountains for thee? What far orb
Echo the fierceness of thy battle-cry?

What dost thou when the thunder is unloosed?
"I sit amongst the crags, and feel the Earth
Tremble beneath me, whilst my heart is firm.
I...

Walter R. Cassels

The Golden Water.

[It is scarcely necessary to say that the following fragment is founded upon the beautiful, and well-known tale in the "Arabian Nights," entitled, "The two Sisters who were jealous of their younger Sister;" and the reader need only be reminded that the two brothers of Perizade, Bahman and Perviz, had previously gone in search of the treasures described by the Devotee, and had perished in the attempt,--the fate of the latter having just been intimated to her at the commencement of this episode, by the fixture of the pearls in the magic chaplet, which Perviz had left her for that purpose.]


The days flow'd on, and each day Perizade
At morn and eve told o'er the snowy pearls,
That morn and eve ran swiftly through her hands;
The days flow'd on--one morn the pearls ran not,
And well she knew that Perviz too ...

Walter R. Cassels

The Land's End.

I stood on the Land's End, alone and still.
    Man might have been unmade, for no frail trace
    Of mortal labour startled the wild place,
And only sea-mews with their wailing shrill,
    Circled beneath me over the dark sea,
Flashing the waves with pinions snowy white,
That glimmer'd faintly in the gloomy light
    Betwixt the foaming furrows constantly.
It was a mighty cape, that proudly rose
    Above the world of waters, high and steep,
    With many a scar and fissure fathoms deep,
Upon whose ledges lodged the endless snows;
    A noble brow to a firm-founded world,
    That at the limits of its empire stood,
    Fronting the ocean in its roughest mood,
And all its fury calmly backward hurl'd.
    The Midnight Sun rose like an angry god,
Girt round...

Walter R. Cassels

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 ...

Walter R. Cassels

The Mother.

There is a land whereon the sun's warm gaze,
    God-like, all-seeing, falls right down through space,
And the weak Earth, quite smitten by its rays,
    Lies scorch'd and powerless with mute silent face,
Like a tranced body, where no changing glow
Tells that the life-streams through its channels flow.

Peopled it is by nations scant and few,
    Set far apart among the trackless sands,
Unlearn'd, uncultured, wild and swart of hue,
    Roaming the deserts in divided bands,
Where the green pastures call them, and the deer
Troop yet within the range of bow and spear.

Unhappy Afric! can thy boundless plains,
    Where the royal lion snuffs the free pure air,
And every breeze laughs at the tyrant's chains,
    Be but the nest of slavery and despair,
Rea...

Walter R. Cassels

The Olden Time.

O! well I mind the olden time,
    The sweet, sweet olden time;
When I did long for eve all day,
    And watch'd upon the new-mown grass
    The shadows slowly eastward pass,
And o'er the meadows glide away,
    Till I could steal, with heart elate,
    Unto the little cottage-gate,
In the sweet, sweet olden time.

O! well I mind the olden time,
    The sweet, sweet olden time;
How all the night I long'd for morn,
    And bless'd the thrush whose early note
    The silver chords of silence smote
With greetings to the day new-born;
    For then again, with heart elate,
    I hoped to meet her at the gate,
In the sweet, sweet olden time.

But now hath pass'd the olden time,
    That sweet, sweet olden time;
And there is neither morn...

Walter R. Cassels

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