Olla Podrida 1838

Our words are like the waves,

Brawling most idly o’er the silent depths

Of that which lies immutable below.

Oh solemn Night!

Methinks thou art the shadow of our God

Bending above us with a father’s care.

Our life is naked garden-ground, wherein

Are germs of many plants: some nurture one

And some another. But there is a plant

Which few have tended; ’tis a lowly flower,

But full on incense, and its name is LOVE.

—So true it is that all other noblest joys,

Friendship, ambition, useful energy,

Kindred affection, and true patriotism,

Are leaves and blossoms of this humble plant.

Thinking of absent friends,

The memory of their weaknesses is gone,

Their virtues only do we think upon.

—So barren mountains, at a distance seem,

Lose all their bleakness and rigidity,

And wear an aspect soft and beautiful.

We were commanded by the incarnate Word

To call Him Father. Merciful is He

In thus allowing what our nature asks.

We shrink in awe from God the terrible,

Whose breath is lightning, and whose ways are dark,

But cling confidingly to God the sire.

—The traveller, fatigued and weather-worn,

Seeks for a resting place, no lofty crag

Whose summit hands between the clouds and stars,

A smooth moss-stone is better far.

Bigotry—

It is the moon of torrid climes, which blasts

And makes corrupt whate’er it shines upon.

The freshness of our first affections has

One steady cynosure. In after life

With many we divide the poor remains

But bitter is the rending of that first

And strongest tie, it rives the very soul!

Torn from its anchor, o’er the waste of life

Our bark is driven, hopeless, rudderless,

Until experience hath taught us how

To find another anchorage.

Half our lives

We hoard false knowledge, and the other half

Unlearn our hard-won lessons, and root out

The produce of our macerating toil.

’Tis ill to learn too early. Some there be

Grow old before their time, and waste their youth

In bookish study. Fools! that wear away

A jewel, which can never be replaced,

In vain attempts to lift old Isis’ veil.

Shame, slander, misconstruction, infamy,

Things which we tremble at, what are they but

The shadows of our actions? —shadows which

Are small or large, according as the sun

Of our prosperity is high or low.¹

E.T.F.