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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420836" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To ------,</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WITH A COPY OF WOOLMAN'S JOURNAL.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Maiden! with the fair brown tresses<br>Shading o'er thy dreamy eye,<br>Floating on thy thoughtful forehead<br>Cloud wreaths of its sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Youthful years and maiden beauty,<br>Joy with them should still abide,--<br>Instinct take the place of Duty,<br>Love, not Reason, guide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ever in the New rejoicing,<br>Kindly beckoning back the Old,<br>Turning, with the gift of Midas,<br>All things into gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the passing shades of sadness<br>Wearing even a welcome guise,<br>As, when some bright lake lies open<br>To the sunny skies,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Every wing of bird above it,<br>Every light cloud floating on,<br>Glitters like that flashing mirror<br>In the self-same sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But upon thy youthful forehead<br>Something like a shadow lies;<br>And a serious soul is looking<br>From thy earnest eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With an early introversion,<br>Through the forms of outward things,<br>Seeking for the subtle essence,<br>And the bidden springs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deeper than the gilded surface<br>Hath thy wakeful vision seen,<br>Farther than the narrow present<br>Have thy journeyings been.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou hast midst Life's empty noises<br>Heard the solemn steps of Time,<br>And the low mysterious voices<br>Of another clime.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the mystery of Being<br>Hath upon thy spirit pressed,--<br>Thoughts which, like the Deluge wanderer,<br>Find no place of rest:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That which mystic Plato pondered,<br>That which Zeno heard with awe,<br>And the star-rapt Zoroaster<br>In his night-watch saw.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the doubt and darkness springing<br>Of the dim, uncertain Past,<br>Moving to the dark still shadows<br>O'er the Future cast,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Early hath Life's mighty question<br>Thrilled within thy heart of youth,<br>With a deep and strong beseeching<br>What and where is Truth?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hollow creed and ceremonial,<br>Whence the ancient life hath fled,<br>Idle faith unknown to action,<br>Dull and cold and dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oracles, whose wire-worked meanings<br>Only wake a quiet scorn,--<br>Not from these thy seeking spirit<br>Hath its answer drawn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, like some tired child at even,<br>On thy mother Nature's breast,<br>Thou, methinks, art vainly seeking<br>Truth, and peace, and rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er that mother's rugged features<br>Thou art throwing Fancy's veil,<br>Light and soft as woven moonbeams,<br>Beautiful and frail</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er the rough chart of Existence,<br>Rocks of sin and wastes of woe,<br>Soft airs breathe, and green leaves tremble,<br>And cool fountains flow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And to thee an answer cometh<br>From the earth and from the sky,<br>And to thee the hills and waters<br>And the stars reply.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But a soul-sufficing answer<br>Hath no outward origin;<br>More than Nature's many voices<br>May be heard within.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even as the great Augustine<br>Questioned earth and sea and sky,<br>And the dusty tomes of learning<br>And old poesy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But his earnest spirit needed<br>More than outward Nature taught;<br>More than blest the poet's vision<br>Or the sage's thought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only in the gathered silence<br>Of a calm and waiting frame,<br>Light and wisdom as from Heaven<br>To the seeker came.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not to ease and aimless quiet<br>Doth that inward answer tend,<br>But to works of love and duty<br>As our being's end;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not to idle dreams and trances,<br>Length of face, and solemn tone,<br>But to Faith, in daily striving<br>And performance shown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Earnest toil and strong endeavor<br>Of a spirit which within<br>Wrestles with familiar evil<br>And besetting sin;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And without, with tireless vigor,<br>Steady heart, and weapon strong,<br>In the power of truth assailing<br>Every form of wrong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Guided thus, how passing lovely<br>Is the track of Woolman's feet!<br>And his brief and simple record<br>How serenely sweet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er life's humblest duties throwing<br>Light the earthling never knew,<br>Freshening all its dark waste places<br>As with Hermon's dew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All which glows in Pascal's pages,<br>All which sainted Guion sought,<br>Or the blue-eyed German Rahel<br>Half-unconscious taught</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty, such as Goethe pictured,<br>Such as Shelley dreamed of, shed<br>Living warmth and starry brightness<br>Round that poor man's head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not a vain and cold ideal,<br>Not a poet's dream alone,<br>But a presence warm and real,<br>Seen and felt and known.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the red right-hand of slaughter<br>Moulders with the steel it swung,<br>When the name of seer and poet<br>Dies on Memory's tongue,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All bright thoughts and pure shall gather<br>Round that meek and suffering one,--<br>Glorious, like the seer-seen angel<br>Standing in the sun!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Take the good man's book and ponder<br>What its pages say to thee;<br>Blessed as the hand of healing<br>May its lesson be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If it only serves to strengthen<br>Yearnings for a higher good,<br>For the fount of living waters<br>And diviner food;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If the pride of human reason<br>Feels its meek and still rebuke,<br>Quailing like the eye of Peter<br>From the Just One's look!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If with readier ear thou heedest<br>What the Inward Teacher saith,<br>Listening with a willing spirit<br>And a childlike faith,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou mayst live to bless the giver,<br>Who, himself but frail and weak,<br>Would at least the highest welfare<br>Of another seek;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And his gift, though poor and lowly<br>It may seem to other eyes,<br>Yet may prove an angel holy<br>In a pilgrim's guise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420836" data-title="To ------, de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="WITH A COPY OF WOOLMAN'S JOURNAL.


Maiden! with the fair brown tresses
Shading o'er thy dreamy eye,
Floating on thy thoughtful forehead
Cloud wreaths of its sky.

Youthful years and maiden beauty,
Joy with them should still abide,--
Instinct take..."></div>
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