The adopted daughter and other tales |
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| 7. | THE WAY-SIDE SPRING. |
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 | The adopted daughter |  |
THE WAY-SIDE SPRING.
BY T. BUCHANAN READ.
Fair dweller by the dusty way—
Bright saint within a mossy shrine,
The tribute of a heart to-day
Weary and worn is thine.
The earliest blossoms of the year,
The sweet-brier and the violet,
The pious hand of Spring has here
Upon thy altar set.
And not alone to thee is given
The homage of the pilgrim's knee—
But oft the sweetest birds of Heaven,
Glide down and sing to thee.
Bright saint within a mossy shrine,
The tribute of a heart to-day
Weary and worn is thine.
The earliest blossoms of the year,
The sweet-brier and the violet,
The pious hand of Spring has here
Upon thy altar set.
And not alone to thee is given
The homage of the pilgrim's knee—
But oft the sweetest birds of Heaven,
Glide down and sing to thee.
Here, daily from his beechen cell,
The hermit squirrel steals to drink,
And flocks which cluster to their bell,
Recline along thy brink.
And here, the wagoner blocks his wheels,
To quaff the cool and generous boon;
Here, from the sultry harvest fields,
The reapers rest at noon.
And oft the beggar masked with tan,
In rusty garments, grey with dust,
Here sits and dips his little can,
And breaks his scanty crust:
And lulled beside thy whispering stream
Oft drops to slumber unawares,
And sees the angels of his dream
Upon celestial stairs.
Dear mossy shrine—thou blessed saint—
Long may thy crystal wealth increase,
Who on the heart, way-worn and faint,
Bestows a moment's peace.
The hermit squirrel steals to drink,
And flocks which cluster to their bell,
Recline along thy brink.
And here, the wagoner blocks his wheels,
To quaff the cool and generous boon;
Here, from the sultry harvest fields,
The reapers rest at noon.
And oft the beggar masked with tan,
In rusty garments, grey with dust,
Here sits and dips his little can,
And breaks his scanty crust:
And lulled beside thy whispering stream
Oft drops to slumber unawares,
And sees the angels of his dream
Upon celestial stairs.
Dear mossy shrine—thou blessed saint—
Long may thy crystal wealth increase,
Who on the heart, way-worn and faint,
Bestows a moment's peace.
| The adopted daughter | |