The Singing Tree

April is National Poetry Month. Lew and Susan both wrote dozens of poems, and occasionally we like to share them here. To celebrate the end of National Poetry Month, take some time to relax and read some of Lew's poetry from his celebrated novel Ben-Hur.



TIRZAH’S SONG

Wake not, but hear me, love!
      Adrift, adrift on slumber’s sea,
       Thy spirit call to list to me,
Wake not, but hear me, love!
        A gift from Sleep, the restful king,
         All happy, happy dreams I bring.

Wake not, but hear me, love!
        Of all the world of dreams ‘tis thine
         This once to choose the most divine,
So choose, and sleep, my love!
         But ne’er again in choice be free,
          Unless, unless – you dream of me.



THE  LAMENT

I sigh as I sing for the story land
    Across the Syrian sea
The odorous winds from the musky sand
    Were breaths of life to me.
They play with the plumes of the whispering palm
     For me, alas! No more;
No more does the Nile in the moonlit calm
    Moan past the Memphian shore.

O Nilus! Thou god of my fainting soul!
     In dreams thou comest to me;
And dreaming, I play with the lotus bowl,
     And sing old songs to thee;
And hear from afar the Memnonian strain,
    And calls from dear Simbel;
And wake to a passion of grief and pain
     That e’er I said – Farewell!



KAPILA

  I.

Kapila, Kapila, so young and true,
   I yearn for a glory like thine,
And hail thee from battle to ask anew
   Can ever thy Valour be mine?

Kapila, sat on his charger dun,
   A hero never so grave;
Who loveth all things hath fear of none,
  'Tis love that maketh me brave,
A woman gave me her soul one day
The soul of my soul to be alway;
   Thence came my Valour to me,
    Go try it – try it – and see!

II.

Kapila, Kapila, so old and gray,
    The queen is calling for me;
But ere I go hence, I wish thou wouldst say,
    How Wisdom first came to thee.

Kapila stood in his temple door.
     A priest in eremite guise.
It did not come as men get their lore,
     'Tis faith that maketh me wise,
 A woman gave me her heart one day,
 The heart of my heart to be alway;
    Thence came my Wisdom to me,
     Go try it – try it – and see.

A New Year's Gift

We spend most of our time here talking about Lew, but Susan was also an accomplished individual. She published six books and numerous articles and poems. Several of her poems are about special occasions. She wrote this poem for Lew, and we thought it would be a good one to share today.

A New Year's Gift

As I watch the old year out
I remember that sweet May,
Whose bloom and perfume linger
About my path to-day.
Fleeting years since then have swept
Some joy away from me,
Yet each one brought me nearer,
Nearer, love, to thee.

My heart in even currents
Beats echo to thy name;
Thy pulses leap to answer
The bugle call of Fame.
All the colors of my being
Have taken richer tone,
And deepened into stronger tints
In blending with my own.

Our morning-dreams are broken,
And castles, day by day,
With far and floating banners
In distance fade away.
Dim arcade and airy tower
I never more may see,
But all my lost ideals
Are found again in thee.

The tender spell of starry sky,
The charm of summer night,
Soft pictured dreams, and visions
That haunt the misty light
Of the shadowy Borderland
'Twixt Youth and Childhood free,
Can never fade from out my heart,
For they are part of thee.

But rosy morning blushing
To wake the world from rest,
And lily fair, and fairest rose
Upon her glowing breast,
And evening's balm and beauty,
And birds' sweet minstrelsy,
And all earth's summer lovliness,
Are nothing without thee.

Ah! were but mine the minstrel's hand,
The minstrel's heart of song,
How would I sing beloved years
Whose memories round me throng!
The past so dear--the future
A dread unbounded sea,
Is neither dark, nor drear, unless,
It parts me, love, from thee.

- Published in Home Journal

Christmas Song for Children

This poem by Susan was written Christmas Eve, 1868, and published in the Crawfordsville Journal.

Christmas Song for Children

Oh, could I have my wish this Christmas night,
Some fairy should fly through the cold starlight,
And bear you away on her gentle breast,
To gardens enchanted, where all that's best,
Sweetest, and best, from every clime,
Should blossom in endless summer-time.
Of myrtle and rose should our garden be,
For the children only, their friends and me.

Built round it a wall, with towers high,
Should shut out all but the clear blue sky,
And circle a palace where banners bright
Float far and free in the soft sunlight.
And violet eyes, lifted meekly up,
And the tulip, bearing her golden cup
Of perfume, should greet the morning sun,
As the beautiful days come one by one,
With never a cloud, and never a tear,
From summer to summer, year to year.

And every path in that garden sweet
Should bear the light print of baby feet,
And ring with shouts of children at play
By babbling brooks that merrily stray
Through beds of lilies, away, away,
Where murmuring water, and bee, and bird,
Make the sweetest music ear ever heard.
There would we live and never grow old;
There measure the years with sands of gold;
In the rose garden whose gates are free
To children only, their friends and me.

It cannot be so--the wishes I bring
Are but the longing of Winter for Spring.
One fairy only haunts this world of ours;
His path is crowded with fadeless flowers;
And the spell that lies in his rosy wings
Is strange as the wonderful song he sings
To charm away sorrow--'twill pass you by,
While the fairy Love is hovering nigh.

This Christmas eve, oh, guard them well,
True love, thou sleepless sentinel!
Beneath they wings, warm lands and fair
Lie sheltered in enchanted air;
And circling walls to thee belong,
And mystic bars, unseen, but strong,
Oh, guard them, Love, with magic key,
The children dear, their friends, and me.