The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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Verses on the Death of a Dairymaid. |
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 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
Verses on the Death of a Dairymaid.
The dawn of the morning had spread o'er the sky,
And the curling mists waved o'er the sea,
The breath of the breeze to the mountains passed by,
And the dew spangles hung on the tree,
And the curling mists waved o'er the sea,
The breath of the breeze to the mountains passed by,
And the dew spangles hung on the tree,
As lonely I strayed by yon briar-feathered brake,
Pleased the rude draughts of Nature to view,
Or watched the wild waterfowl skim o'er the lake,
Where the flower of the wilderness grew.
Pleased the rude draughts of Nature to view,
Or watched the wild waterfowl skim o'er the lake,
Where the flower of the wilderness grew.
Thus oft have I marked, even in Poverty's shade,
The cottage of Peace to adorn,
The mild timid looks of the young village maid,
As the primrose peeps out by the thorn.
The cottage of Peace to adorn,
The mild timid looks of the young village maid,
As the primrose peeps out by the thorn.
Oh! emblem of innocence! modest and mild,
And pure as the dews on thy breast;
Thus bloomed thou, Eliza—thus sweetly thou smiled—
Ere thou sunk to thy cold bed of rest.
And pure as the dews on thy breast;
Thus bloomed thou, Eliza—thus sweetly thou smiled—
Ere thou sunk to thy cold bed of rest.
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I've heard when thy notes through the dairy were rung,
With the laugh and the jest oft between—
I've seen when the mower his scythe lighter swung,
As thou turn'dst up the swaird on the green.
With the laugh and the jest oft between—
I've seen when the mower his scythe lighter swung,
As thou turn'dst up the swaird on the green.
No more shall that eye now be lighted by love—
How changed is its lustre and hue!
And fled every charm the dull hermit might move—
But 'tis painful the contrast to view.
How changed is its lustre and hue!
And fled every charm the dull hermit might move—
But 'tis painful the contrast to view.
Yet did not the blossoms that bloomed on thy cheek,
Speak of years yet unnumbered to run?
And did not thy dreams, in futurity, seek
For new joys yet unruffled to come?
Speak of years yet unnumbered to run?
And did not thy dreams, in futurity, seek
For new joys yet unruffled to come?
But where are the lovers that worshipped those eyes,
And vowed every frown was despair?—
As the light-feathered emigrant woos other skies,
So they follow where summer blooms fair.
And vowed every frown was despair?—
As the light-feathered emigrant woos other skies,
So they follow where summer blooms fair.
Save one pensive youth, by yon pine-covered steep,
While the blast through the branches does moan,
He sighs there in secret, he mourns while asleep,
And he loves to be always alone.
While the blast through the branches does moan,
He sighs there in secret, he mourns while asleep,
And he loves to be always alone.
No youthful companion can soften his grief,
Nor friend bear a part in his pain;
But he turns his dim eye on the sear-withered leaf,
And he weeps—and then views it again.
Nor friend bear a part in his pain;
But he turns his dim eye on the sear-withered leaf,
And he weeps—and then views it again.
Poor mourner—thy moments how seldom now sweet?
But the darkest night yields to the day:
Hope points to the time when true lovers will meet,
And thy tears shall be all wiped away.
But the darkest night yields to the day:
Hope points to the time when true lovers will meet,
And thy tears shall be all wiped away.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |