Charles Harpur Poems

My soul; is raying like a star,
My heart is happier than a bird,
And all because, through fortune’s jar,
I hear one little word.
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IT WAS a tale of passion that we read—
Of two who loved, not happily, but well!
And evermore her gentle breast did swell
Like a twin-billow,—for her feelings fed
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My Country, though rude yet, and wild, be thy nature,
This alone our proud love should beget and command:
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MY beautiful! For beautiful thou art
To me thy father, as the morning light
Which makes all common objects fresh and bright,
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(Outward Bound)
AWAY, away she plunges
With her white sails o’er her spread,
Like the summer clouds that gather
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Have the blasts of sorrow worn thee,
Have the rocks of danger torn thee,
And thus shifted, wreck-like drifted,
Wouldst thou find a port in time?
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When Deborah the prophetess ruled in God’s land,
And Sisera died under Jael’s fierce hand,
His mother looked forth at the close of the day,
When the roar of the war died in silence away:
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He shone in the senate, the camp, and the grove,
The mirror of manhood, the darling of love.
He fought for his country, the star of the brave,
And died for it’s weal when to die was to save.
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By far Euphrates’ stream we state,
A weary band of herded slaves,
And over Judah’s fallen estate
We wept into the passing waves.
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Who hath lain him underneath
A lone oak by a lonely stream;
He hath heard an utterance breathe
Sadder than all else may seen.
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