Songs Old and New ... Collected Edition [by Elizabeth Charles] |
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 | Songs Old and New |  |
I.
Beside the ancient river
The infant poet played;
The grave old rocks above him
Laughed at the mirth he made.
The infant poet played;
The grave old rocks above him
Laughed at the mirth he made.
The boat that bore him thither
Lay idle on the shore,
His pearly boat that fast could float
Without or sail or oar.
Lay idle on the shore,
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Without or sail or oar.
The fresh young leaves on the hoar old trees
Quivered and fluttered in glee,
And the merry rills from the mighty hills
Shouted as loud as he.
Quivered and fluttered in glee,
And the merry rills from the mighty hills
Shouted as loud as he.
The birds poured joyous welcomes,
For they deemed him one of them;
And the snowdrop laughed in her quiet joy,
Till she shook on her delicate stem.
For they deemed him one of them;
And the snowdrop laughed in her quiet joy,
Till she shook on her delicate stem.
Broad is that ancient river,
And its depths no sailor knows;
It comes from a place no foot can trace,
'Mid the clouds and the ancient snows;
And its depths no sailor knows;
It comes from a place no foot can trace,
'Mid the clouds and the ancient snows;
And on its breast is bounding
Many a gallant bark;—
(Do they know that at last o'er a chasm vast
It leaps into the dark?)
Many a gallant bark;—
(Do they know that at last o'er a chasm vast
It leaps into the dark?)
But to the child its waters
Were his playmates glad and sweet,
Chasing each other merrily
To bathe his snowy feet;
Were his playmates glad and sweet,
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To bathe his snowy feet;
The starry hosts above him
Were the flowers of the sky,—
Too high, perhaps, to gather,
But too beautiful to die;
Were the flowers of the sky,—
Too high, perhaps, to gather,
But too beautiful to die;
The world with all its wonders,
Its heavens and its sea,
Was his play-room, full of play-mates,
Each one as glad as he.
Its heavens and its sea,
Was his play-room, full of play-mates,
Each one as glad as he.
But as he laughed and gambolled
Strange languor o'er him stole;
His eyes grew dim, and faint each limb,
And dark the sunny soul,
Strange languor o'er him stole;
His eyes grew dim, and faint each limb,
And dark the sunny soul,
Till the green earth in pity
Folded him to her breast,
And birds and waves and breezes
Lulled him to quiet rest.
Folded him to her breast,
And birds and waves and breezes
Lulled him to quiet rest.
| Songs Old and New | |