« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
One more, the child of so much love,
And rising, vanishing from view,
November 15th, 1819.
TO HIS MOTHER, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
SINCE first I learnt to welcome in
Dear mother, twice three years have been—
And lightly have they past with me,
And yet, I've mark'd thee growing weak,
And, not without a sigh,
Have seen less bloom upon thy cheek,
Have heard thee, backward to complain,
I've thought sometimes the hour was near When we must meet no more,
And I be left deserted here
For ever to deplore
The smile, without whose power to bless
See Memoir, page 137.
But moods like these would pass away,
And gayer hopes arise;
Hopes that would yet awhile delay
To bless thy sons, and bless the poor,
Nor deem we every joy forsakes
The head that's hoary; though The harp for him no music makes, For him no flow'rets blow; Though falters every wither'd limb, And every worn-out sense is dim.
True, growing years the body wear;
Ask we those joys? Can age erase
No; past the sound, its echo lives,
And every good our hand has done,
The portion'd daughter, 'prenticed son,
All these are still in memory's store,
These still are left; and ask we more?
And then, if fancy's frolic powers,
That cheer'd the days gone by;
Friendship, like wine, with every year
And when did converse fail to cheer
Or filial tenderness to 'suage
Said I, that hope's gay dreams are gone?
One that grows bright as years come on,
For, as thou bidst this world adieu,
O, ask the seaman what he feels,
And nothing now but night conceals
THE BASKET OF HOPE.
Now weave me a basket that's frail, but fair,
First, broken heart, I send to thee
It took its seat when the boughs were bare,
And kept it the live-long winter there.
Here's the beautiful blue of an April morn:
Here's the earliest flower of the sweet May-thorn :
And three green ears of the milky grain,
"These would have been lovely and sweet in their
But they were pluck'd before their prime."
TO-MORROW AND YESTERDAY.
SENT IN A LETTER TO A YOUNG SISTER-IN-LAW. 1820.
TO-MORROW and YESTERDAY, once on a time,
As each of them hung on an arm of To-DAY, Are said to have quarrell'd-perhaps not in rhyme, But an old Persian poet reported, they say
Says Yesterday, "Sister, you promise so fair,
As if I did nothing,-or nothing but ill."
"Nay, sister," To-morrow says, "take back the ball, Since mine's the misfortune, and yours is the guilt; There's nobody now will believe me at all,
Because you have prov'd-you'll excuse me—a jilt.”
"Sister, sister," quoth Yesterday, "you're a coquette, And your aim is with each one to dazzle and shine;" "You're a prude," quoth To-morrow, "and look with regret,
On your joys that are past, and would envy me mine."
"Be at peace," says To-day, "be at peace, pray ye do, Since I am the suff'rer, so far as I see;
While flirting with you, dear, and wrangling with you, There's no one will waste e'en a look upon me."
THE BEE ORCHIS.
SENT TO HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW.
ROMANTIC freak of nature, this;
In thee might aptly find.
I'd fancy that a vagrant bee,
• Some sunny hour of spring,
Pale three-leaf'd flower! had lit on thee,
And staid his idle wing.