It Might Have Been [pp. 303-304]

183. ~'eMg aeBe. 0
Where withered buds and blossoms mark
his step from door to door,
'Till scarce a threshold's left, his foot has
not passed o'er;
How well the Mother, on whos e leartl stone he bas failed to tread,
When for the grave she wreaths some love ly little golden head,
Sigh, in the fullness of a -heart surcharged
with solemn joy,
For this, " It Might Have Been" my fate to
deck your brow-my boy Whilst the crushed heart of her, whose bud
was blighted e'er'twas blo'vn
Turns from each smiling babe to cry "thus
Might Have Been my own."
When, in the mellow ripeness of its love,
the soul doth strive
To keep the dead cold ashes of a youthful
flame alive,
And, with the richness of life's tide throb lbing in every vein,
Seeks in another heart to pour its rare old
wine again,
Bringing a tempered glowing passion to the
self-same shrine
On which in earlier years the leaping,
changing flan.e did shine;,
How often will it find its golden image
turned to lead,
Its wild-flower wreath of feeling withered
-all its rose-buds deadWhilst, in that barren soil, the Passion
flowers of later life
Refuse to spread their crimson petals with
Each one of our authors has some petu-'
liar merit; Thackeray is pre-eminently satirical on the feelings as well as on the
fashions; Dickens, as was before observed,
is more decidedly sentimental than the
other two, though his chief excellence is
his humor; while Lever's forte consists in
bringing out the good in man, not such indeed as angels might be content to share,
but that kind of good qualities which are
most valuable to us in our capacity of social beings. These same traits combined
in different proportions with a predominating ingredient of humor, make up the totality of their literary characters. But the
spirit of humor that pervades the works of
these authors, is undoubtedly their distinguishing merit. "La gaite vraiment inoffensive," says Madame De Stael,'-est celle qui
apparti ent seulemente, & 1' imagination," and
it was in accordance with this truth, that
the old comedy of the Greeks was superseded by the new, and modern wit, sharing
the improvements of a higher civilization,
surpassinig that of all preceeding ages.
"IT MIGHT HAVE BEIN." In these four
words how much of feeling lies,
No sadder wail can from a crushed and,,
bleeding heart arise;
For Grief is e'er most bitter, when with
skilful artist band
She bids the joys that "might have been,"
before the sufferer stand;
While Happiness glows, like the diamond,
yet more purely bright,
If with black sorrow we contrast its opales cent light.
As tears will from the eyelid with both joy
and sorrow start,
"It Might Have Been," bursts with each
wave of feeling from the heart.
When Death, the reaper, leaves the fields
of ripe and golden grain,
To wield h is sickle'mid the flowers which
round our hearths we train,
rich perfume rife.~
Oh! then, will it not cry " had I been wiser
in my spring
Wh at bright and fragrant blossoms might
my glow ing summer bring?
And-as it sighing thinks how fair its pre.
sent " Might Have Been"
Crush all Love's genial warmth and tender ness-not out-but in?
Yes! like green moss on crumbling walls
there's many a heart which lives
Feeding itself but on the thoughts the Past
unto it gives.
Whilst in its core Remorse with its relent
spirit of noble art, and H. B. Stowe signally failed in her attempt tb invest him with
an aesthetic interest, after sacrificing truth,
with the most unscrupulous license to the
attainment of her fanatical object.
les s hand doth turn
The barbed grief which there unseen doth
-ever fret and burn;
Seeking no sharper, fiercer torture to
avenge a sin,
— It Might Have Been."
1863.1
303
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"IT MIGHT - liATE BEEN."
BY TENELLA.
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