JULIA WARD HOWE
Life ye tear to shred and flitter,
Joying in the costly glitter
To rehearse each art-abortion
That consumes a widow's portion.
The skies have left one marble drop
Within the lily's heart.
Here is a stanza that can only find its counterpart in Sternhold and Hopkins's version of the Psalms:
The murderer's wicked lust
Their righteous steps withstood:
The zeal that thieves and pirates knew
Brought down the guiltless blood.
Mrs. Howe invariably says Jèsu for Jesus; and her prayer is always an Ave. Among her crippled and unscholarly devices of expression are such words and phrases as "sweat-embossed," "sense-magic," "weird-encircled," "inmould," "poor occurrence," "recondite dinners," "man's idle irk," "love's eterne," "solvent skies," "in wondrous sequency involved," "life's great impersonate," "prince's minivère," and so forth, since these are taken at random from a barbaric host. She tells us of one who "passions with her glance," and elsewhere bids "dawn's sentinels" to "shed golden balsam." Who else could have written such a stanza as this?
Deep Night, within thy gloomy catafalque
Bury my grief;
And, while thy candles light my funeral walk,
Promise relief.
[261]
