The Desolation of Eyam The Emigrant, a Tale of the American Woods: and other poems. By William and Mary Howitt |
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“AWAY TO THE BOSKY GLENS!”
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 | The Desolation of Eyam |  |
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“AWAY TO THE BOSKY GLENS!”
ADDRESSED TO P. B.
Away to the bosky glens!
Hie to the sedgy fens!
In the abele the spring-bird reneweth its lay;
The tree that was hoarest
Now blooms in the forest,
Away to the bosky dells! hie thee away!
Hie to the sedgy fens!
In the abele the spring-bird reneweth its lay;
The tree that was hoarest
Now blooms in the forest,
Away to the bosky dells! hie thee away!
Where waters are flowing,
Pure blossoms are blowing;
The laughing sun filleth the blue heavens with glee;
There are thousand buds springing,
A thousand notes ringing;
And all for the welcome of wanderers like thee.
Pure blossoms are blowing;
The laughing sun filleth the blue heavens with glee;
There are thousand buds springing,
A thousand notes ringing;
And all for the welcome of wanderers like thee.
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O'er the herbs in the shady glen,
Over green bank and bough again,
Like the tears of blest meetings, lies sparkling the dew,
And the breeze of the heavens,
Which all nature enlivens,
With its own living gladness thy heart shall imbue.
Over green bank and bough again,
Like the tears of blest meetings, lies sparkling the dew,
And the breeze of the heavens,
Which all nature enlivens,
With its own living gladness thy heart shall imbue.
Then away in the sunshine,
While spirit and health are thine,
These may not be calling thee onward to-morrow;
As the cloud from the mountain,
Overshadows the fountain,
So comes in a moment the glooming of sorrow.
While spirit and health are thine,
These may not be calling thee onward to-morrow;
As the cloud from the mountain,
Overshadows the fountain,
So comes in a moment the glooming of sorrow.
Or, if life in sereneness,
And long summer greenness,
Should wear, like the oak of the forest, away,
Yet, dearer lives failing
Shall leave thee bewailing
That the flowers of thy spring-tide are gone to decay.
And long summer greenness,
Should wear, like the oak of the forest, away,
Yet, dearer lives failing
Shall leave thee bewailing
That the flowers of thy spring-tide are gone to decay.
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Oh! then in thought's wanderings,
The heart's lonely ponderings,
What dreams will there linger midst prospects divine?
The beauty and sweetness
Of youth in its fleetness,
These still in the depths of thy bosom will shine.
The heart's lonely ponderings,
What dreams will there linger midst prospects divine?
The beauty and sweetness
Of youth in its fleetness,
These still in the depths of thy bosom will shine.
For the heart oft reposes
Though fancy's flower closes,
Nor again to our afternoon sun is unfurled;
But youth is all lightness,
And the soul in its brightness
Dips its wandering wing in the dews of the world.
Though fancy's flower closes,
Nor again to our afternoon sun is unfurled;
But youth is all lightness,
And the soul in its brightness
Dips its wandering wing in the dews of the world.
From that season of passion
'Tis alone that we fashion
The vision of holier and happier things;
And Faith, to elate us
With joys that await us,
Must pluck the bright plumes from young Memory's wings.
'Tis alone that we fashion
The vision of holier and happier things;
And Faith, to elate us
With joys that await us,
Must pluck the bright plumes from young Memory's wings.
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Then away to the bosky glens!
Hie to the sedgy fens!
In the abele the spring-bird reneweth its lay;
The tree that was hoarest
Now blooms in the forest:
Away to the bosky dells!—hie thee away!
Hie to the sedgy fens!
In the abele the spring-bird reneweth its lay;
The tree that was hoarest
Now blooms in the forest:
Away to the bosky dells!—hie thee away!
| The Desolation of Eyam | |