 | Short poems for short people |  |
THE STAR'S STORY.
There dwelt a pure sweet star high up in heaven,
That longed for something beautiful to love;
And one fair night while gazing softly earthward,
All from the blue tranquillities above,
She found a little gold-haired boy who slumbered,
Gentle, and sinless as a new-born dove.
That longed for something beautiful to love;
And one fair night while gazing softly earthward,
All from the blue tranquillities above,
She found a little gold-haired boy who slumbered,
Gentle, and sinless as a new-born dove.
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For many a night the star, with beamings tender,
Shone through the quiet casement of the room
Where innocently slept her gold-haired darling,
Compassed with utter silentness and gloom,
Until at last, yet watching him, she murmured:
“He knows of my love, O weary doom!”
Shone through the quiet casement of the room
Where innocently slept her gold-haired darling,
Compassed with utter silentness and gloom,
Until at last, yet watching him, she murmured:
“He knows of my love, O weary doom!”
Then prayed the pure sweet star that God might change her
To one of those glad fire-flies that flash bright
O'er meadowy lapses and low reedy marshlands,
Through the long sombre watches of the night,
Dancing their dizzy dances, quaint and mirthful,
Fandangoes and cachuchas of delight.
To one of those glad fire-flies that flash bright
O'er meadowy lapses and low reedy marshlands,
Through the long sombre watches of the night,
Dancing their dizzy dances, quaint and mirthful,
Fandangoes and cachuchas of delight.
‘For surely, then,’ she thought, ‘I shall be nearer
Him whom my heart has learned to prize so well!’
And lo, the while she prayed her prayer, full fleetly
Down through the gloaming's purple void she fell;
Down to the meadow-lapses and green marshlands
Where countlessly the sparkling fire-flies dwell.
Him whom my heart has learned to prize so well!’
And lo, the while she prayed her prayer, full fleetly
Down through the gloaming's purple void she fell;
Down to the meadow-lapses and green marshlands
Where countlessly the sparkling fire-flies dwell.
Joyous it was to float on buoyant pinions
Among those radiant multitudes, and seem
A new star in a new and nearer heaven,
Her distant home viewed vaguely like a dream;
Joyous it was, and yet not long she lingered,
Idly among her brilliant peers to gleam,
Among those radiant multitudes, and seem
A new star in a new and nearer heaven,
Her distant home viewed vaguely like a dream;
Joyous it was, and yet not long she lingered,
Idly among her brilliant peers to gleam,
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“For I must gain,’ she thought, ‘my love's dim casement,
Before the twilight darkens and he sleeps.’
Alas, poor fire-fly! journeying so hopeful,
Her wings are tangled in the grassy deeps
That clothe a broad, still meadow, and she flutters
Vainly to rescue what the strong grass keeps!
Before the twilight darkens and he sleeps.’
Alas, poor fire-fly! journeying so hopeful,
Her wings are tangled in the grassy deeps
That clothe a broad, still meadow, and she flutters
Vainly to rescue what the strong grass keeps!
All night the cold dews chill her while she struggles,
Bruising frail wings, frail body, and all night
Up from the gloomy sward come sudden flashes
That pierce the solemn air with fitful light,
Till mournfully the flashes die forever,
Just as the far dawn glimmers wild and white.
Bruising frail wings, frail body, and all night
Up from the gloomy sward come sudden flashes
That pierce the solemn air with fitful light,
Till mournfully the flashes die forever,
Just as the far dawn glimmers wild and white.
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