 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
196
OH! LINGER WE NOT?
Oh! linger we not, dear love, thus lonely,
Of the wide world the unwise ones only,
When the buds and the blossoms persuade to fly;
When spring is beside us, with all her dower
Of bloom and of beauty, and breeze and flower,
And, merrily pour'd through the perfumed sky,
Is the song of a thousand birds of pleasure
That woo to a thousand fields of treasure—
Love's fields, and the worlds of delight that lie
Every where spread in the eye of the breeze,
Deep in the forests, and out on the seas,
By the blue lake, and the billowy shore—
Wherever the soul may fly, and be free,
With none to mock, yet with one to see—
One kindred soul to requite, restore,
Bring back the lost rapture, the new to cherish,
While fresh-risen hopes, which shall never perish,
Persuade the glad spirit to seek no more!
Of the wide world the unwise ones only,
When the buds and the blossoms persuade to fly;
When spring is beside us, with all her dower
Of bloom and of beauty, and breeze and flower,
And, merrily pour'd through the perfumed sky,
Is the song of a thousand birds of pleasure
That woo to a thousand fields of treasure—
Love's fields, and the worlds of delight that lie
Every where spread in the eye of the breeze,
Deep in the forests, and out on the seas,
By the blue lake, and the billowy shore—
Wherever the soul may fly, and be free,
With none to mock, yet with one to see—
One kindred soul to requite, restore,
Bring back the lost rapture, the new to cherish,
While fresh-risen hopes, which shall never perish,
Persuade the glad spirit to seek no more!
Linger we not, while the storms pursue us;
Hasten we far, where the seasons woo us,
And let us unfold our mutual wings,
Till we rest where the waters of Pacolet
Murmur welcome in song that for sweetness yet
Surpasses the minstrel that sweetest sings!
I know the deep glens, and the fertile valleys,
The green brow'd hills, and the verdant alleys,
And the mountain runnels and secret springs!
Oh! dearest of all the young hearts glowing
Where Etiwan's lordly waves are flowing!
Be this song of mine in thine ears a spell,
To win thee hence, ere the summer hours
Shall wither the leaf in thy maiden bowers,
Make thy cheek pale, and thy bosom swell
With a feverish thirst; which the mountain breeze,
By the foaming torrent, 'neath shadowing trees,
And with love to sing thee, alone shall quell!
Hasten we far, where the seasons woo us,
And let us unfold our mutual wings,
Till we rest where the waters of Pacolet
Murmur welcome in song that for sweetness yet
Surpasses the minstrel that sweetest sings!
I know the deep glens, and the fertile valleys,
The green brow'd hills, and the verdant alleys,
And the mountain runnels and secret springs!
Oh! dearest of all the young hearts glowing
Where Etiwan's lordly waves are flowing!
197
To win thee hence, ere the summer hours
Shall wither the leaf in thy maiden bowers,
Make thy cheek pale, and thy bosom swell
With a feverish thirst; which the mountain breeze,
By the foaming torrent, 'neath shadowing trees,
And with love to sing thee, alone shall quell!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |