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Show I WOULD NOT LOSE THAT ROMANCE WILD. lSUl.l By John Greenlief Whittier. C jfeffiB (Tho following is another of Whlttier's uncql- j khUH lected poems, written when he was 19 years of ! M'jiB age, during his first term in the Haverhill acad- j, mL Jl emy. In one or two stanzas are to be seen traces ffl wfl of that ambition for fame and the feeling that the M I HI world was treating him harshly which are shown ; Mi II in most of his letters and poems of that period. j 81W 3 At the age of about 25 there came a complete f 8fi .'!f change over his sprit, sweetening all the springs l i ,' ? I of life. It was this change which, no doubt in- 1 )'&' jffl fluenced him in his later life to omit from his coj- . J&'x, jfl lected works most of the verses written previous jt jig ;itB to it. The pessism and cynicism of his youth were 'B!pj 'jj changed to a sweet charity and a reasonable op- BjJLt Ml timism. He gave up self-seeking and devoted his 1 Bjf IB whole life to philanthropic work. This most pa- 1 i4l tient, sweet-tempered of men once told me that he fjffi fi.'a was born without an atom of patience in his cpm r V ! 'I I position, and It was only by constant watchful- I' KmiI ness and effort that he kept the natural impatience I 'JB Jp f -fl of his temper under control. Samuel T. Plckard.f ff jP-i'C.l"! I would not lose that romance wild, I Rjfj'ffjl That high and gifted feeling sllfil The power that made me fancy's child, M W if m The clime of song revealing, 1 !"! if II For all the power, for all the gold, It m . jf That slaves to pride and avarice hold. 11 B I Ml I know that there are those who deem fiP'M. 1 H But lightly of the lyre iiflrHBsl Who ne'er have felt one blissful beam HfixsHfl Of song-enkindled fire IfliBBBB Steal o'er their spirits, as the light ImLmHkm Of morning o'er the face of night. fififlHH Tet there's a mystery in song i ifi?M A halo 'round the way j 'iHH Of him who seeks the muses' throng : BpMB An intellectual ray, j jrajflfl A source of pure, unfading joy Hf'ijHI A dream that earth can ne'er destroy. fMsllB jHjf iHIBl And tho' the critic's scornful eye R tBjhH Condemns his faltering lay, i IjhSjH And tho' with heartless apathy ; BfflUH The cold world turn away nlsHH And envy strive with secret aim IIeJHhH To blast and dim his rising fame; iBbbbXH Yet fresh amid the blast that brings HbBBBbI BuclTpoison on its breath, JmbBshH Continued on page 12.) SSBSbIbbI MHHHiaaBBBBBAMiMiHSBHIlBlttl J Would JVot Lose That 'Romance ?Jild Continued. Above the wreck of meaner things His lyre's unfading wreath Shall bloom when those who scorned his lay With name and power have passed away. i Come then, my lyre, altho' there be No witchery in thy tone; And tho' the lofty harmony Which other bards have known, Is not, and cannot e'er be mine, To touch with power those chords of thine Yet thou canst tell in humble strain, The feelings of a heart, Which tho' net proud, would still-disdain To bear a meaner part Than that of bending at the shrine Where their bright wreaths the muses twine. Thou canst not give me wealth or fame; Thou hast no power to shed The halo of a deathless name Around my last cold bed; To other chords than thine belong The breathings of immortal song. Yet come, my lyre! some hearts may beat Responsive to thy lay; . The tide of sympathy may meet Thy master's lonely way; And kindred souls, from envy free, May listen to its minstrelsy. From New York Independent Haverhill, Eighth Month, 1827. |