University of Virginia Library

My sister raised me to the bed, my mother solemnly
Rested her hand upon my head, in silence, I could see
Her eyes were raised to Heaven; at last she spoke, but not to me,
“Poor child! thy Father yet will find a blessing left for thee:”
Then turning unto Amy said, “to Thee, though yet so young,
I leave a legacy of Love,” the words upon her tongue
Failed, yet a look told all the rest, and Amy wept, and clung
About her neck, and kissed her then so fondly and so fast,
I only heard a murmured sound of blessing to the last,
And she was gone; yet surely then her spirit as it past
Breathed all its love on Amy's soul, and lives in it again,
For she has been the mother to me I lost, yet lost not then!

And every one is kind to me, but sometimes they forget
Because I have been ill so long, but Amy never yet
Forgot me, and I often think that seeing her so kind
Makes all the others kinder still, and keeps it in their mind,
And oft she jests with me, and says, that still as we begun,
Five years before me, all through life she will smoothe the path we run;
She thinks of me, let her ever be so busy or so gay,
And happy she must be that has so much to give away;
It seems as if her joyous heart took in a double share
Of all the gladness of the world, the more to have to spare;
And every one is wanting her, that is their joy and pride,
But still she says her happiest days are those that side by side
We spend together; far beneath the Castle where we dwell
Sinks deep, and low, and sudden down, a rocky, woody dell;
It seems as if, by chasm rift, the Earth had flung in there,
In haste to fill the yawning gap, all goodly things and rare,
For I never saw a place so wild, so lonely, or so fair,
I never heard the sweet birds sing so loud as they do there,
Calling each other, morn and eve, across the narrow glen,
As if they sung “joy,” only “joy” a hundred times again,
And all except their song is hushed; the wind that hath its will
O'er all without, can never find its way within the Ghyll,
And only rocks the tall tree tops while all beneath is still;
And there at evening lingeringly, the golden sunbeams stray
All up and down the grassy slopes, and seem to lose their way
Among the trees, till every bole is touched with ruddy light,
And all the pebbles in the brook are flashing wet and bright;
The brook that through the sultry day, with waters clear and brown,
From rocky shelving ledge to ledge, still slips and gurgles down,
And chafes and murmurs round about broad burdock leaves outspread,
And great stones slippery with moss that choke its shingly bed,
Till every here and there awhile for quietness makes stay
In dark, deep hollows of a hand that holds it on its way,
Where all things that are glossy-smooth and moist, and green and cool,
Drip from the overhanging rock and cluster round the pool,
And forth from ev'ry crevice and cleft peep lovely plants and rare,
As if they were some costly theft half thrust for hiding there,
That Earth would keep unto herself because they are so fair,
For never, save in such fairy-nooks they flourish anywhere!

Not far from this a ferny bank uprises in the dell,
With thick dry heath o'ergrown, and moss that seems to heave and swell
Unto the touch, and fox-gloves wave o'er all with crimson bell:
Here Amy has me brought, and here through half the summer day
We sit and talk, or oftener dream the quiet hours away;
And, lying in the shadow, mark the dark leaves glistening bright
Shoot up and flash in elfin spears and javelins of light,
Or listen to the wordless song, the story without end,
That summer woods through all their leaves, and falling waters, send;
Till sometimes Amy will arise and up and down the brook,
Flit light from stone to stone, and peer within each leafy nook,
Or diving 'mid the boughs, awhile I see her not, but hear
Her singing loud behind their screen to show me she is near.
One day we marked some flowers that grew so high upon the rock,
“They feel themselves so safe” I said, “they look as if to mock
And shake their little heads at us”—“but I will tame their pride
And take them in their very nest;” then Amy laughing, cried,
And up the rock with light sure step she sprung, and ever higher
Kept clambering up the slippery stair, and held by bush and brier,
Until at last the summit gained, she clapped her hands, and flung
The flowers down to me, and stamped her little foot, and sung
Till all the woody vale awoke its echoes to prolong
The song that floated o'er its depths, the sweet and self-same song,
“Joy, only joy,” that all the birds had sung in it so long,—
And singing all the way she came, once more she neared the ground,
But now with slower step, and ere she took her last light bound,
To stay herself a moment's space, she clasped a birchen tree
That grew upon the rock, and waved her other hand to me;
When she stopped singing all at once, and o'er her face a look
Passed, as if then some sudden blame unto her heart she took,
And when she reached me where I sat, she spoke not for awhile,
But turned her head, and when again she raised her eyes, the smile
Was only on her lip; I saw that all its glee was gone,
And when at last she spoke 'twas not of what she thought upon;

And I made answer lightly too, but silent and untold
Was something drawn between us then that loosens not its hold,
And oft I think within myself, sweet sister, could you see
This heart of mine that loves you so, you would never grieve for me!