Where Helen sits, the darkness is so deep,
No golden sunbeam strikes athwart the gloom;
No mother’s smile, no glance of loving eyes,
Lightens the shadow of that lonely room.
Yet the clear whiteness of her radiant soul
Decks the dim walls, like angel vestments shed.
The lovely light of holy innocence
Shines like a halo round her bended head,
Where Helen sits.
Where Helen sits, the stillness is so deep,
No children’s laughter comes, no song of bird.
The great world storms along its noisy way,
But in this place no sound is ever heard.
Yet do her gentle thoughts make melody
Sweeter than aught from harp or viol flung;
And Love and Beauty, quiring each to each,
Sing as the stars of Eden’s morning sung,
Where Helen sits.
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I remember reading somewhere that many in the older English traditions would leave a chair (usually the favorite) of the deseased after they died. This was a place of reverence for a lost family member.
I feel this is what Mrs. Richards is talking about here.
"Yet do her gentle thoughts make melody
Sweeter than aught from harp or viol flung;
And Love and Beauty, quiring each to each,
Sing as the stars of Eden’s morning sung,
Where Helen sits. "
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I wasn't sure at the first reading but I now feel that Helen is dead, but, even in death her aura still shines as it did in life, making such an impression on those who knew her. I found peace and tranquility in this poem, a beautiful and serene work of art.
Sundance
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