 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes |  |
THE CHANGE.
In sunset's light o'er Boston thrown,
A young man proudly stood
Beside a girl, the only one
He thought was fair or good;
The one on whom his heart was set,
The one he tried so long to get.
A young man proudly stood
Beside a girl, the only one
He thought was fair or good;
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The one he tried so long to get.
He heard his wife's first loving sound,
A low, mysterious tone,
A music sought, but never found,
By beaux and gallants gone;
He listened and his heart beat high,—
That was the song of victory!
A low, mysterious tone,
A music sought, but never found,
By beaux and gallants gone;
He listened and his heart beat high,—
That was the song of victory!
The rapture of the conqueror's mood
Rushed burning through his frame,
And all the folks that round him stood
Its torrents could not tame,
Though stillness lay with eve's last smile
Round Boston Common all the while.
Rushed burning through his frame,
And all the folks that round him stood
Its torrents could not tame,
Though stillness lay with eve's last smile
Round Boston Common all the while.
Years came with care; across his life
There swept a sudden change,
E'en with the one he called his wife,
A shadow dark and strange,
Breathed from the thought so swift to fall
O'er triumph's hour,—and is this all?
There swept a sudden change,
E'en with the one he called his wife,
A shadow dark and strange,
Breathed from the thought so swift to fall
O'er triumph's hour,—and is this all?
No, more than this! what seemed it now
Right by that one to stand?
A thousand girls of fairer brow
Walked his own mountain land;
Whence, far o'er matrimony's track,
Their wild, sweet voices called him back.
Right by that one to stand?
A thousand girls of fairer brow
Walked his own mountain land;
Whence, far o'er matrimony's track,
Their wild, sweet voices called him back.
They called him back to many a glade
Where once he joyed to rove,
Where often in the beechen shade
He sat and talked of love;
They called him with their mocking sport
Back to the times he used to court.
Where once he joyed to rove,
Where often in the beechen shade
He sat and talked of love;
They called him with their mocking sport
Back to the times he used to court.
But, darkly mingling with the thought
Of each remembered scene,
Rose up a fearful vision, fraught
With all that lay between,—
His wrinkled face, his altered lot,
His children's wants, the wife he 'd got!
Of each remembered scene,
Rose up a fearful vision, fraught
With all that lay between,—
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His children's wants, the wife he 'd got!
Where was the value of that bride
He likened once to pearls?
His weary heart within him died
With yearning for the girls,—
All vainly struggling to repress
That gush of painful tenderness.
He likened once to pearls?
His weary heart within him died
With yearning for the girls,—
All vainly struggling to repress
That gush of painful tenderness.
He wept; the wife that made his bread
Beheld the sad reverse,
Even on the spot where he had said
“For better or for worse.”
O happiness! how far we flee
Thine own sweet path in search of thee
Beheld the sad reverse,
Even on the spot where he had said
“For better or for worse.”
O happiness! how far we flee
Thine own sweet path in search of thee
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes | |