 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
XXIV. HITHER—COME HITHER
Hither! come hither! come to the hills;
Trip through the woodlands, rest by the rills!
Little ones! hasten, with laughter and song;
Come with your tiny feet glancing along!
Trip through the woodlands, rest by the rills!
Little ones! hasten, with laughter and song;
Come with your tiny feet glancing along!
Breezes are blowing, chill is the dew,
Yet are we glowing only for you;
Softly we cluster, sadly we sigh,
Waiting the lustre of some loving eye.
Yet are we glowing only for you;
Softly we cluster, sadly we sigh,
Waiting the lustre of some loving eye.
Trace by the perfume that floats on the gale,
Where we are hiding down in the vale;
Hiding from all the world, drinking the dew,
Hushing our timid hearts, waiting for you!
Where we are hiding down in the vale;
Hiding from all the world, drinking the dew,
Hushing our timid hearts, waiting for you!
Playing “bo-peep,” with the breeze and beam,
Bending to see ourselves glass'd in the stream.
Little ones! hasten, with laughter and song;
Come with your merry feet dancing along!
Come to us, sing to us! chill is the weather,
Let us die on your hearts, braided together!
Bending to see ourselves glass'd in the stream.
383
Come with your merry feet dancing along!
Come to us, sing to us! chill is the weather,
Let us die on your hearts, braided together!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |