Julia Ward Howe (Джулия Уорд Хау)

As it Seems

Two faces, once familiar, that again
Snatch silent greeting, with a crowd between;
But they long parted—set on heights of Time
That gulfs divide, and constant shadows screen.

The veil of separation rent in twain,
Their eyes as in a dim cathedral met,
Whose arches from the swiftly pairing years
Its crystals from the glow of Hope, were set.

Its Saints, the holy figures of the Dead,
Fleeting, yet fixed as Love, the ever-true;
While, glimmering, thro' the ruined portal shows
Like a far dream, Youth's sunny sky of blue.

Iconoclastic Fortune spares the hut—
The toil-browned peasant, and his patient wife,
With little scope of sorrow or desire,
Live out their harmless, vegetative life.

But we, who strove to raise a pile on high
Fit to embrace the organ-tone of Time,
Who gave to weightiest thoughts an upward lift,
Laying broad reasons, rounding rhyme to rhyme,

Stand thunder-smitten, yet with stern command
To bear Life's devastations, since our fall
That else were solemnly desired, should bring
Our gentle Parasites to ruin, all.

For theirs is Beauty's office—she must fling
Her glowing mantle o'er all havoc made;
Soothing Decay with tireless services
That cannot be commanded, nor repaid.

1. Tribute to Oliver Wendell Holmes
2. Mother Mind
3. Mother's Day Proclamation
4. The Flag
5. My Last Dance

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