Frances Ellen Watkins Harper: Verses about Soul

He stood before my heart's closed door,
And asked to enter in;
But I had barred the passage o'er
By unbelief and sin.

He came with nail-prints in his hands,
To set my spirit free;
With wounded feet he trod a path
To come and sup with me.

He found me poor and brought me gold,
The fire of love had tried,
And garments whitened by his blood,
My wretchedness to hide.

The glare of life had dimmed my eyes,
Its glamour was too bright.
He came with ointment in his hands
To heal my darkened sight.

He knew my heart was tempest-tossed,
By care and pain oppressed;
He whispered to my burdened heart,
Come unto me and rest.

He found me weary, faint and worn,
On barren mountains cold;
With love's constraint he drew me on,
To shelter in his fold.

Oh! foolish heart, how slow wert thou
To welcome thy dear guest,
To change thy weariness and care
For comfort, peace and rest.

Close to his side, oh! may I stay,
Just to behold his face,
Till I shall wear within my soul
The image of his grace.

The grace that changes hearts of stone
To tenderness and love,
And bids us run with willing feet
Unto his courts above.

I'm tired, I'm tired of life, brother!
Of all that meets my eye;
And my weary spirit fain would pass
To worlds beyond the sky.
For there is naught on earth, brother,
For which I'd wish to live;
Not all the glittering gauds of wealth
One hour of peace can give.

I'm weary,--sick at heart, brother,
Of heartless pomp and show!
And ever comes some cloud to dim
The little joy I know.
This world is not the world, brother,
It seemed in days agone,
When I viewed it through the rainbow mists
Of childhood's rosy dawn.

I would not pain your heart, brother--
I know you love me well;
And that love is laid upon my soul,
E'en as a holy spell.
But I'm weary of this world, brother,
This world of sin and care;
And my spirit fluttereth to be free,
To mount the upper air!

I know not of the world, brother,
To which I wish to go;
And perhaps my soul may there awake
To know a deeper woe!
They say the pure of earth, brother,
Find there undying bliss;
While all the wicked ones are cast
Into a dark abyss!

I look upon the stars, brother,
That gem the vault of blue;
And when they tell me 'God is love,'
I feel it must be true;
For I see on all around, brother,
The impress of a hand
That blendeth and uniteth all
In one harmonious band.

I am that which I am, brother,
As the Creator made;
To _Him_, all-holy and all-pure,
No fault can e'er be laid.
He knows my weakness well, brother,
And I can trust his love
To bear me safe through Jordan's stream
To brighter worlds above.

Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep
The arching skies;
O, let your echoes swell with deep,
Woe-piercing cries!

Old ocean, with a heavy surge,
Cold, black and drear,
Roll thou the solemn note of dirge
On Europe's ear!

Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright,
Look down below,
O, pity with your eyes of light
A Nation's woe!

Thou source of day, that rollest on
Though tempests frown,
Thou mind'st us of another sun
That has gone down!

Gone down,--no more may mortal eye
Its face behold!
Gone down,--yet leaving on the sky
A tinge of gold!

Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear
The note of dread;
'Twill smite like iron on the ear;--
Our Clay is dead!

Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage,
The Nation's pride,
With giant minds of every age
Identified!

That form of manliness and strength
In Senate hall,
Is lying at a fearful length
Beneath the pall!

That voice of eloquence no more
Suspends the breath;
Its matchless power to charm is o'er--
'Tis hushed in death!

Thrice noble spirit! can we bow,
And kiss the rod?
With resignation yield thee now
Back to thy God?

And where, where shall we turn to find
Now thou 'rt at rest,
A soul so lofty, just and kind,
As warmed thy breast?

We bear thee, with a flood of tears,
Unto thy tomb;
There thou must sleep till rolling years
Have met their doom!

But thy bright fame and memory
Shall send a chime
From circling ages down to the
Remotest time!

O, may thy mantle fall on some
Of this our day,
And shed upon the years to come
A happy ray!

A SONG.

Come to me when I'm dying;
Gaze on my wasted form,
Tired with so long defying
Life's ever-rushing storm.
Come, come when I am dying,
And stand beside my bed,
Ere yet my soul is flying,
And I am cold and dead.

Bend low and lower o'er me,
For I've a word to say
Though death is just before me,
Ere I can go away.
Now that my soul is hovering
Upon the verge of day,
For thee I'll lift the covering
That veils its quivering ray.

O, ne'er had I thus spoken
In health's bright, rosy glow!
But death my pride hath broken,
And brought my spirit low.
Though now this last revealing
Quickens life's curdling springs,
And a half-timid feeling
Faint flushes o'er me flings.

Bend lower yet above me,
For I would have thee know
How passing well I love thee,
And joy to tell thee so.
This love, so purely welling
Up in this heart of mine,
O, hath it e'er found dwelling
Within thy spirit's shrine?

I've prayed my God, in meekness,
To give me some control
Over this earthly weakness
That so enthralled my soul;
And now my soul rejoices
While sweetly-thrilling strains,
From low, harmonious voices,
Soothe all my dying pains.

They sing of the Eternal,
Whose throne is far above,
Where zephyrs softly vernal
Float over bowers of love;
Of hopes and joys, earth-blighted,
Blooming 'neath cloudless skies,
Of hearts and souls united
In love that never dies.

'Tis there, 'tis there I'll meet thee
When life's brief day is o'er;
O, with what joy to greet thee
On that eternal shore!
Farewell! for death is chilling
My pulses swift and fast;
And yet in God I'm willing
This hour should be my last.

Sometimes, when day declineth,
And all the gorgeous west
In gold and purple shineth,
Go to my place of rest;
And if thy voice in weeping,
Is borne upon the air,
Think not of me as sleeping;
All cold and silent there:--

But turn, with glances tender,
Toward a shining star,
Whose rays with chastened splendor
Fall on thee from afar.
And know the blissful dwelling
Where I am waiting thee,
When Jordan fiercely swelling
Shall set thy spirit free.

ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE.


The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill,
As standing by my window I gaze there long and still.
I see a roof and a chimney, and some tall elms standing near,
While the winds that sway their branches bring voices to my ear.

They tell of a darkened hearth-stone, that once shone bright and gay,
And of old familiar faces that have sadly passed away;
How a stranger on the threshold with careless aspect stands,
And gazes on the acres that have passed into his hands.

I shudder, as these voices, so fraught with mournful woe,
Steal on my spirit's hearing, in cadence sad and low,
And think I will not hear them--but, ah! who can control
The gloomy thoughts that enter and brood upon the soul?

So, turning from my window, while darkness deepens round,
And the wailing winds sweep onward with yet more piteous sound,
I feel within my bosom far wilder whirlwinds start,
And sweep the cloudy heaven that bends above my heart.

I have no power to quell them; so let them rage and roar,
The sooner will their raging and fury all be o'er;
I've seen Atlantic's billows 'neath tempests fiercely swell,
But O, the calm succeeding, I have no words to tell!

I think of you, and wonder if you are happy now;
Floats there no shade of sorrow at times across your brow?
When daily tasks are ended, and thought is free to roam,
Doth it not bear you swiftly back to that dear old home?

And then, with wizard fingers, doth Memory open fast
A thrilling panorama of all the changeful past!
Where blending light and shadow skip airy o'er the scene,
Painting in vivid contrast what is and what has been.

And say, does not your mother remember yet with tears
The spot where calm and peaceful have lapsed so many years?
O, would some kindly spirit might give us all to know
How much a tender parent will for a child forego!

We prized your worth while with us; but now you're gone from sight,
We feel 'how blessings brighten while they are taking flight.'
O, don't forget the homestead upon the pleasant hill;
Nor yet the love-lit home you have in all our memories still!

Come, often come to visit the haunts your childhood knew!
We pledge you earnest welcome, unbought, unfeigned and true.
And when before your vision new hopes and pleasure rise,
Turn sometimes with a sunny thought toward your native skies!

In the liquid vault of ether hung the starry gems of light,
Blazing with unwonted splendor on the ebon brow of night;
Far across the arching concave like a train of silver lay,
Nebulous, and white, and dreamy, heaven's star-wrought Milky Way.

I was gazing, gazing upward, all my senses captive fraught,
From the earnest contemplation of celestial glories caught,
When the thought arose within me, as the ages onward roll
What may be th' eternal portion of the vast, th' immortal soul?

When the crimson tide of Nature ceases from its ruddy flow,
And these decaying bodies mouldering are so cold and low,
And the loathsome grave-worm feeding on the still and pulseless
heart,
Where may be the immortal spirit, what may be its deathless part?

Deep and far within the ether stretched my eyes their anxious gaze,
While the swelling thoughts within me grew a wild and wildered maze,
Then came floating on the distance, softly to my listening ears,
Low, thrilling harmonies of worlds whirling in their bright spheres.

From the sparkling orb of Venus, sweetest star that gems the blue,
Soon a form of seraph beauty burst upon my raptured view;
Wavy robes were floating round her, and her richly-clustering hair
Lay like golden-wreathed moonbeams round her forehead young and fair.

Then a company of seraphs gathered round this form so bright,
And unfurled their snowy pinions in those realms of crystal light,
Sweeping swiftly onward, onward with their music-breathing wings,
Till they passed the distant orbit where the mighty Neptune swings.

Then from stormy, wild Orion, to the dragon's fiery roll,
And the sturdy Ursa Major tramping round the Boreal pole,
On to stately Argo Navis rearing diamond spars on high,
Starry bands of seraph wanderers clove the azure of the sky.

Lofty awe and adoration all my throbbing bosom filled,
Every pulse and nerve in nature with ecstatic wonder thrilled.
O, were these bright, shining millions disembodied human souls,
That casting off earth's fettering bonds had gained immortal goals!

On each face there beamed a brightness mortal words can ne'er
rehearse,
Seemed it the concentred glory of the boundless universe.
O, 'twas light, 'twas love, 'twas wisdom, science, knowledge, all
combined,
'Twas the ultimate perfection of the God-like human mind!

One by one the constellations sank below the horizon's rim,
And with grief I found my starry vision growing earthly dim;
While all the thrilling harmonies, that filled the air around,
Died off in far, sweet echoings, within the dark profound.

Bowing then with lowly seeming on the damp and dewy sod,
All my soul in adoration floated up to Nature's God,
While the struggling thoughts within me found voice in earnest
prayer;
'Almighty Father, let my soul one day those glories share!'