Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1787/Two Moods

by Edgar Fawcett

TWO MOODS.

I.

HATE.

Drawn o'er the airy sapphire of the day
In vague perpetual way,
He sees one dulling film of dreary gray.
The fragrant sward, or dewy leaves that shine,
Flower, bird, or lissom vine,
All hold weird hints of something saturnine!
Big weights of wrong and insult, always pressed
Upon his tired-out breast,
Imperiously distract him with unrest!
And through his mind quick ghastly fancies float,
Where sometimes he can note
His enemy's loathsome shape, and clutch its throat!

II.

LOVE.

For him alone the exultant thrushes call,
The grand suns rise and fall,
And the sweet winds blow benedictional!
A sovereign sense his being seems to brim,
Thrilling heart, brain, and limb,
That all this radiant world was wrought for him!
One blissful faith his life divinely cheers
With heavenly joys and fears,
That sometimes leave his sight in holy tears!
And through his soul, rich-warmed by sacred heat,
Dear memories move and meet,
Like shadowy ripples over golden wheat.

Belgravia.Edgar Fawcett.