Poems (Taggart)/The Heart's Desire

by Cynthia Taggart

THE HEART'S DESIRE. 1823.

Essay, my Heart, my aching heart,
 To lisp thy longing forth;—
Speak thy intense desire to gaze
 Upon the blooming earth.

All the desires that e'er thou felt'st,
 Compared with this, (save one)
Die sooner than the taper's beam
 When the quick blast hath blown.

This, this my panting heart excites,
 With all a passion's glow,
That I may know long banished health,
And feel the balmy air's sweet stealth
 Across my temples flow;—

And stray the verdant landscape o'er,
And press the lawns, and walk the shore,
That I have traced, long since, before,
And lift mine eyes unpained, to view
 The glorious morning Sun.

What years have passed of anguish keen,
 Since last I heard the roar
Of clashing waves, or marked the scene,
Where in the milder sea's deep green,
The inverted, towering trees were seen
 From yon delightful shore,—

Or heard the warbling concert ring,
While echoing joys responsive sing,
And purling brook and bubbling spring,
In sweet melodious offering,
 Their simple music pour!

Long since, I watched the sun go down,
 Far in the vermil west;
And lingering viewed his latest beam,
Till the fair evening star's first gleam
 Shone in the misty east;

Then sought the stilly couch at night
With sweet repose and calm delight,
While fancy's soft aerial flight,
In milder gleams of magic light,
 Shed peace upon my breast.

Soft slumber's downy arras received
My sinking form, and sweet relieved
 The pleasing task of thought,
  Whilst the gay dream's
  Unfettered themes
 The brain's freed fibres sought.

Or, deeper in the placid night,
I watched the flickering northern light,
 Or gliding meteor's bound,
Or saw the fair Moon slow ascend
Her radiant height, while stars attend
 At humble distance round;—

Or viewed the silvery hill and dale,
While the sweet night airs plaintive wail
Through gilded branches of each tree,—
Or moan in concert with the sea,
 And sigh along the ground.

'T is long since Summer's early dawn,
 That breaks the shades of night,
And the gay, smiling, blooming morn
 Have cheered my aching sight;—

When songs of sweeter harmony
Than night's soft chanted melody
 Salute the captive ear;
And far soft slumber's bondage flies
From off the glad, rejoicing eyes,
 And joys unveiled appear.

'T is long since at the winter hearth,
 When friends and kindred meet
In serious joy, and playful mirth,
 I held a happy seat,—

And turned beside the taper's light
 The instructive pages o'er,
Or heard the wise discourse of age,
Or read with awe the sacred page
 And felt its quick'ning power;—
Then joined the joyous vocal strain,
While fast against the sheltering pane
Dash the large, pattering drops of rain,
 Or wild winds blustering roar.

O Health, thy succouring aid extend,
While low, with bleeding heart, I bend,
And on thine every means attend,
And sue with streaming eyes;—
 But more remote thou fliest away,
 The humbler I thine influence pray,
And expectation dies.

Twice three long years of life have gone,
Since thy loved presence was withdrawn,
 And I to grief resigned;—
Laid on the couch of lingering pain,
Where stern disease's torturing chain
 Has every limb confined;

And separate from the household band,
 Disconsolate and lone,
With no sweet converse's social charm
One pain imperious to disarm,
 Or quell the rising moan,
I lie in hopeless doom to grieve,
While no kind office can relieve,
Nor can I sustenance receive
 But from another's hand;

While anguish veils the body o'er
And balmy sleep is known no more,
And every thought that thrills the brain
Gives frantic energy to pain,
And the cold dew-drops copious drain
Through every opening, rending pore.

Health! wilt thou not, for the black stream,
That bears keen poison through the veins,
 A cordial swift prepare;—
Bring back their own bright crimson glow
And the true circulating flow,
 And mitigate despair?

Once more my pleadings I renew,
And with my parting breath I sue,
 Goaded by potent pain,
By all the pangs of wasting life,
By gasping nature's chilling strife,
 To gain one lingering view
Of thy fair aspect, mildly sweet,
And kiss from off thine airy feet
 The healing drops of dew.

O bathe my burning temples now,
And cool the scorching of my brow,
 And light the rayless eye;—
My strength revive with thine own might,
And with thy footsteps firm and light,
O bear me to thy radiant height,
 Where, soft reposing, lie
Mild peace, and happiness, and joy,
And Nature's sweets that never cloy,
Unmixed with direful pain's alloy;—
 Leave me not thus to die!