Bird-Notes by Evelyn Douglas [i.e. J. E. Barlas] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| IX. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. | XV.
Tears. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
 | Bird-Notes |  |
33
XV. Tears.
When boyhood is sowing
In hope to reap,
Their grace bestowing
The sweet heavens weep.
When crops are sowing
Let rain be cheap.
In hope to reap,
Their grace bestowing
The sweet heavens weep.
When crops are sowing
Let rain be cheap.
Boyhood's warm and generous tears
Augur well for the coming years.
Augur well for the coming years.
When youth is growing
His golden grain,
Love-tears flowing
Are fruitful pain.
When corn is growing
Men welcome rain
His golden grain,
Love-tears flowing
Are fruitful pain.
When corn is growing
Men welcome rain
Heroes wept: in early years
Gentle feelings are fed with tears
Gentle feelings are fed with tears
34
When youth is mowing
His early hay,
The rain-storm blowing
Is wished away.
When grass is mowing
Give me a dry day!
His early hay,
The rain-storm blowing
Is wished away.
When grass is mowing
Give me a dry day!
Deep is the well-spring of holy tears,
Shallow the brook of the laughing years.
Shallow the brook of the laughing years.
When manhood is strowing
Its ripened corn
And summer glowing,
Tears meet but scorn.
When the sickle is strowing
Tears cannot be borne
Its ripened corn
And summer glowing,
Tears meet but scorn.
When the sickle is strowing
Tears cannot be borne
Heroes wept: but the busy years
Leave now no leisure for wasting tears.
Leave now no leisure for wasting tears.
35
When age is done stowing
Its garnered store,
Raining or snowing
It matters no more.
When wheat is done stowing
All care is o'er.
Its garnered store,
Raining or snowing
It matters no more.
When wheat is done stowing
All care is o'er.
Memories, and regrets, and tears,
These are the solace of useless years.
These are the solace of useless years.
| Bird-Notes | |