The Desolation of Eyam The Emigrant, a Tale of the American Woods: and other poems. By William and Mary Howitt |
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COWSLIPS. |
 | The Desolation of Eyam |  |
116
COWSLIPS.
Oh! fragrant dwellers of the lea!
When first the wild-wood rings
With each sound of vernal minstrelsy;
When fresh the green grass springs;
When first the wild-wood rings
With each sound of vernal minstrelsy;
When fresh the green grass springs;
What can the blessed spring restore
More gladdening than your charms?
Bringing the memory once more
Of lonely fields and farms;
More gladdening than your charms?
Bringing the memory once more
Of lonely fields and farms;
Of thickets, breezes, birds and flowers;
Of life's unfolding prime;
Of thoughts as cloudless as the hours;
Of souls without a crime.
Of life's unfolding prime;
Of thoughts as cloudless as the hours;
Of souls without a crime.
117
Oh blessed, blessed do ye seem!
For, even now, I turned,
With soul athirst for wood and stream,
From streets that glared and burned.
For, even now, I turned,
With soul athirst for wood and stream,
From streets that glared and burned.
From the hot town, where mortal care
His crowded fold doth pen;
Where stagnates the polluted air,
In many a sultry den.
His crowded fold doth pen;
Where stagnates the polluted air,
In many a sultry den.
And ye are here! and ye are here!
Drinking the dew like wine,
'Midst living gales and waters clear,
And heaven's unstinted shine.
Drinking the dew like wine,
'Midst living gales and waters clear,
And heaven's unstinted shine.
I care not that your little life
Will quickly have run through,
And the sward, with summer children rife,
Keep not one trace of you.
Will quickly have run through,
And the sward, with summer children rife,
Keep not one trace of you.
118
For again, again, on dewy plain
I trust to see you rise,
When spring shall wake the wild-wood strain,
And bluer gleam the skies.
I trust to see you rise,
When spring shall wake the wild-wood strain,
And bluer gleam the skies.
Again, again, when many springs
Upon my grave shall shine,
Here shall you speak of vanished things
To living hearts of mine.
Upon my grave shall shine,
Here shall you speak of vanished things
To living hearts of mine.
| The Desolation of Eyam | |