For his thought, that never stops, Down to the graves of the dead, Down through chasms and gulfs profound, To the dreary fountain-head Of lakes and rivers underground; And sees them, when the rain is done, On the bridge of colors seven Thus the Seer, With vision clear, Sees forms appear and disappear, In the perpetual round of strauge Mysterious change, From birth to death, from death to birth, From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth; Till glimpses more sublime Of things, unseen before, Unto his wondering eyes reveal The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel In the rapid and rushing river of Time. SONNET: THE POETS. O ye dead poets, who are living still Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro. There are more guests at table than the hosts Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, The stranger at my fireside cannot see He but perceives what is; while unto me We have no title-deeds to house or lands; The spirit-world around this world of sense Our little lives are kept in equipoise The perturbations, the perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of that unseen star, That undiscovered planet in our sky. And as the moon, from some dark gate of cloud, Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light, Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd, Into the realm of mystery and night; So from the world of spirits there descends PHANTOMS. All houses wherein men have lived and died We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, SONNET: NATURE. As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, And the lost clew regain? The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower May 23d, 1864. THE BELLS OF LYNN, HEARD AT NAHANT. From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted, Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight, to his own exertions. He was not nineteen when his first published poem appeared in a Newburyport paper, edited by William Lloyd Garrison. The first complete collection of his poems was published in 1850. Other volumes appeared later: "Songs of Labor," in 1851; "The Chapel of the Hermits," in 1852; "The Panorama," in 1856; "Home Ballads," in 1860; "In War Time," in 1863; "Snow - Bound," in 1865; "The Tent on the | Beach," in 1867; "Among the Hills," in 1868; "The Pennsylvania Pilgrim," in 1873. Whittier was at different periods of his life an editor, and he has put forth some four or five volumes in prose. But it is as a poet, and one indigenous to the soil of America, and true to its traditions and associations, that he will be known to posterity. Even his moral and didactic verse is distinguished by a lyrical grace and freedom that overcomes their gravity. His "Maud Muller" (1855) is one of the choicest of idyllic poems, and savors thoroughly of the native soil. In his religious utterances O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn! he shows an earnest and devotional spirit, hopeful in its views of the destiny of the race, but too broad for cir The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the head- cumscription in any sectarian creed. As a ballad-writer he is eminently successful-simple, graceful, interesting, land, and never prolix. His "Witch of Wenham" may be inListens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of Lyun! stanced as a singularly beautiful specimen in this depart Over the shining sands the wandering cattle homeward Follow each other at your call, O Bells of Lynn! The distant light-house hears, and with his flaming Answers you, passing the watchword on, O Bells of And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous surges, And clap their hands, and shout to you, O Bells of Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incantations, ment of verse. Among the tributes sent to him on his "I thank thee, friend, for words of cheer, And now, when lengthening shadows come, I thank thee for thy genial ray, That prophesies a brighter day, When we can work, with strength renewed, In clearer light, for surer good. God bless thee, friend, and give thee peace, Whittier has resided the greater part of his life at Ye summon up the spectral moon, O Bells of Lynn! Amesbury, Mass. He has never been married, and his life |