Poems (Hoffman)/Looking Beyond (Today the glorious King of Day is smiling)

by Martha Lavinia Hoffman

For works with similar titles, see Looking Beyond.

LOOKING BEYOND

Today the glorious King of Day is smiling
Upon the hills and fields he looks upon,
But somehow from the glory of the sunshine
 There is a something gone.

What is it? The soft air is warm and pleasant
The shrubs and trees fresh robes of verdure wear
And yet a feeling not exactly sadness
 Pervades the air.

Some sweet notes from the ivory keys come to me,
They echo through my being, faint and low,
But why it is they lack the power to soothe me
 I do not know.

'Tis strange, but sometimes how life's prospects thrill us,
How cherished plans gleam with a new delight;
We sleep and wake to find Hope's starry splendor
 Has taken flight.

Our plans are dim, their glory has departed.
And yet we cannot find the words to tell
Of the strange brightness, or the shadowy dimness,
 That these loved dreams befell.

We only know what seemed of vast importance,
And, filled with hope our pilgrimage on earth,
Has dwindled down to-day without a reason
 To small and trifling worth;

Sometimes these seem enough to make us happy,
And sure success in these is all we claim;
And then again we can but vaguely murmur:
 "O for a higher aim!"

A higher aim, an object that is lasting,
A height we cannot reach,
A treasure that is of intrinsic value,
 A thought too deep for speech.

Be still, oh fluttering Spirit, ever striving
Like some imprisoned bird to leave its cage,
Yet in a higher flight a nobler calling
 Thou shalt engage!

When the great sun has smiled a few more mornings
Upon these transient longings and desires,
There shall be kindled in thy inmost being
 Quenchless celestial fires.

Be still, what seemeth little may seem greater
When we shall view with clearer vision all,
When looking back upon these little strivings
 They may not seem so small;

And yet we dread to leave our work unfinished,
We cannot give our petty prospects up
And should we have to leave them we might murmur
 At this our bitter cup.

We might deem all our usefulness as ended
And mourn to leave our greatest work undone,
When if our lives have been what we should make them
 Our work is just begun.

Had we but faith to grasp the dim hereafter
With strong unwavering hands,
Methinks we could give up without a murmur
 These little earthly plans;

But do we give them up? If true and righteous,
If with the principles of love instilled
Methinks in that great limitless hereafter
 They yet shall be fulfilled.

When the dark angel, Death, shall bid us slumber
I do not think these living souls shall sleep
But in the rapture of a perfect freedom
 The thought and memory of the present keep.

And more and more to grow in life and vigor
As years that end not, roll o'er broader fields,
Defying time or death or endless ages
 To stop their chariot wheels.

Beyond, oh word, oh promise for the future!
Oh star of this dark night!
Though cherished hopes lose all their power to charm us,
 Beyond, it still is light.

And though with every golden clasp forgotten,
With jewels dropping from each broken bond,
These cherished plans sink down to naught before us,
 We still can look beyond.