 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
118
THE FAREWELL SONG OF THE AERONAUT.
The cord has been severed that bound me below,
The sport of the elements soaring I go;
My dwelling a toy—that the changeable breeze,
Like a child wild and wayward, can break if it please
Should the four winds of heaven be meeting to-day,
A fine game of football the giants will play;
Ah! little they'll reck in their glorious glee,
That what's sport to them may be ruin to me:
That the poor little football might come off the worst
It is but a bubble—the bubble may burst,
And I—like the far-fabled child of the sun,
Too rashly assuming the reins he had won,
And skilless to guide his wild coursers of fire,
The victim of idle and daring desire,
By the touch of the Thunderer cast from his car,
From heaven, a blazing and beautiful star,—
I too may be whelmed in the wild rolling wave,
No loved one to weep amber-tears o'er my grave!
My pathway with danger, with death may be fraught
Oh! who will not pity the rash Aeronaut!
The sport of the elements soaring I go;
My dwelling a toy—that the changeable breeze,
Like a child wild and wayward, can break if it please
Should the four winds of heaven be meeting to-day,
A fine game of football the giants will play;
Ah! little they'll reck in their glorious glee,
That what's sport to them may be ruin to me:
That the poor little football might come off the worst
It is but a bubble—the bubble may burst,
And I—like the far-fabled child of the sun,
Too rashly assuming the reins he had won,
And skilless to guide his wild coursers of fire,
The victim of idle and daring desire,
By the touch of the Thunderer cast from his car,
From heaven, a blazing and beautiful star,—
I too may be whelmed in the wild rolling wave,
No loved one to weep amber-tears o'er my grave!
My pathway with danger, with death may be fraught
Oh! who will not pity the rash Aeronaut!
119
Yet with heaven all before me, kind wishes behind,
I give my light fears like my car to the wind;
My flag to the breeze—my life to the keeping
Of Him, the all-merciful, strong, and unsleeping;
Unseen by whose eye not a sparrow can fall,
And whose word keeps the elements ever in thrall.
Content to be wafted thus far on my way,
By the prayer of the pensive, the laugh of the gay;
While thousands of rosy lips smile as I go,
No idle misgiving the rover can know:
For the bright eyes of childhood in wonder uprais'd,
And the glance of fair woman met mine as I gaz'd;
And blest was the fancy that over me stole,—
“A wish for my safety may be in her soul,
Her prayers may be mine, when alone and afar,
The Aeronaut sighs in his desolate car!”
I give my light fears like my car to the wind;
My flag to the breeze—my life to the keeping
Of Him, the all-merciful, strong, and unsleeping;
Unseen by whose eye not a sparrow can fall,
And whose word keeps the elements ever in thrall.
Content to be wafted thus far on my way,
By the prayer of the pensive, the laugh of the gay;
While thousands of rosy lips smile as I go,
No idle misgiving the rover can know:
For the bright eyes of childhood in wonder uprais'd,
And the glance of fair woman met mine as I gaz'd;
And blest was the fancy that over me stole,—
“A wish for my safety may be in her soul,
Her prayers may be mine, when alone and afar,
The Aeronaut sighs in his desolate car!”
The world has a thousand resources for all;
But the thrill of strange joy, when I broke from its thrall,
Was worth all its gifts, and exulting I thought,
Oh! who would not envy the gay Aeronaut!
But the thrill of strange joy, when I broke from its thrall,
Was worth all its gifts, and exulting I thought,
Oh! who would not envy the gay Aeronaut!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |