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An honest Valentine

Returned from the Dead-Letter Office

THANK you for your kindness,

Lady fair and wise,

Though love's famed for blindness,

Lovers--hem! for lies.

Courtship's mighty pretty,

Wedlock a sweet sight;--

Should I (from the city,

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

The Mother’s Visit

LONG years ago she visited my chamber,

Steps soft and slow, a taper in her hand;

Her fond kiss she laid upon my eyelids,

Fair as an angel from the unknown land:

Mother, mother, is it thou I see?

Mother, mother, watching over me.

And yesternight I saw her cross my chamber,

Soundless as light, a palm-branch in her hand;

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

The Good Of It

A Cynic's Song.

SOME men strut proudly, all purple and gold,

Hiding queer deeds 'neath a cloak of good fame;

I creep along, braving hunger and cold,

To keep my heart stainless as well as my name;

So, so, where is the good of it?

Some clothe bare Truth in fine garments of words,

Fetter her free limbs with cumbersome state:

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Immutable

AUTUMN to winter, winter into spring,

Spring into summer, summer into fall,--

So rolls the changing year, and so we change;

Motion so swift, we know not that we move.

Till at the gate of some memorial hour

We pause--look in its sepulchre to find

The cast-off shape that years since we called "I"--

And start, amazed. Yet on! We may not stay

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Her Likeness

A GIRL, who has so many wilful ways

She would have caused Job's patience to forsake him;

Yet is so rich in all that's girlhood's praise,

Did Job himself upon her goodness gaze,

A little better she would surely make him.

Yet is this girl I sing in naught uncommon,

And very far from angel yet, I trow.

Her faults, her sweetnesses, are purely human;

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

To A Beautiful Woman

SURELY, dame Nature made you in some dream

Of old-world women--Chriemhild, or bright

Aslauga, or Boadicea fierce and fair,

Or Berengaria as she rose, her lips

Yet ruddy from the poison that anoints

Her memory still, the queen of queenly wives.

I marvel, who will crown you wife, you grand

And goodly creature! who will mount supreme

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Labor Is Prayer

LABORARE est orare:

We, black-visaged sons of toil,

From the coal-mine and the anvil

And the delving of the soil,--

From the loom, the wharf, the warehouse,

And the ever-whirling mill,

Out of grim and hungry silence

Raise a weak voice small and shrill;--

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Plighted

Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty!

Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty:

Love given willingly, full and free,

Love for love's sake, - as mine to thee.

Duty's a slave that keeps the keys,

But Love, the master, goes in and out

Of his goodly chambers with song and shout,

Just as he please, - just as he please.

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Westward Ho!

We should not sit us down and sigh,

My girl, whose brow a fane appears,

Whose steadfast eyes look royally

Backwards and forwards o'er the years--

The long, long years of conquered time,

The possible years unwon, that slope

Before us in the pale sublime

Of lives that have more faith than hope.

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

A Question

SOUL, spirit, genius--which thou art--that whence

I know not, rose upon this mortal frame

Like the sun o'er the mountains, all aflame,

Seen large through mists of childish innocence,

And year by year with me uptravelling thence,

As hour by hour the day-star, madest aspire

My nature, interpenetrate with fire

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

A Spirit Present

IF, coming from that unknown sphere

Where I believe thou art,--

The world unseen which girds our world

So close, yet so apart,--

Thy soul's soft call unto my soul

Electrical could reach,

And mortal and immortal blend

In one familiar speech,--

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

"Will Sail Tomorrow"

THE good ship lies in the crowded dock,

Fair as a statue, firm as a rock:

Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,

Her funnel glittering white and bare,

Whence the long soft line of vapory smoke

Betwixt sky and sea like a vision broke,

Or slowly o'er the horizon curled

Like a lost hope fled to the other world:

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik