 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
104
MY WORLD.
I have a world, a radiant world,
In which I dwell alone,
Where earthly cares and woes and fears,
Are never felt or known;
No foot unwelcome enters there,—
I hold the mystic key;
Its golden portals, wide and fair,
Ope never but for me.
In which I dwell alone,
Where earthly cares and woes and fears,
Are never felt or known;
No foot unwelcome enters there,—
I hold the mystic key;
Its golden portals, wide and fair,
Ope never but for me.
There are no sorrows in my world,
No anguish and no tears;
Its beauty and its happiness
Fade not with fading years;
There are no tempests in its sky,
No clouds by lightning riven;
No gloom or darkness ever falls
Athwart its summer-heaven.
No anguish and no tears;
Its beauty and its happiness
Fade not with fading years;
There are no tempests in its sky,
No clouds by lightning riven;
No gloom or darkness ever falls
Athwart its summer-heaven.
105
No southern clime has flowers so sweet,
With hues so rich and bright,
As those which blossom in my world,
Unchilled by winter's blight:
Amid its gardens broad and fair
No stricken blossom grieves,—
My world has autumn's gorgeous dyes,
But not its withered leaves.
With hues so rich and bright,
As those which blossom in my world,
Unchilled by winter's blight:
Amid its gardens broad and fair
No stricken blossom grieves,—
My world has autumn's gorgeous dyes,
But not its withered leaves.
And there are princely palaces,
And towers high and fair,
Rearing their snowy battlements
Against the purple air;
And stately domes and marble founts,
And castles proud and grand,
Are there, beneath the rosy skies
Of my enchanted land.
And towers high and fair,
Rearing their snowy battlements
Against the purple air;
And stately domes and marble founts,
And castles proud and grand,
Are there, beneath the rosy skies
Of my enchanted land.
And there are birds whose colored wings
Fan fragrance from the bowers,
As in and out, in sun and shade,
They float like wingéd flowers;
And when upon their shining plumes,
I watch the rainbow gleams,
I hear such songs as other ears
Hear only in their dreams.
Fan fragrance from the bowers,
As in and out, in sun and shade,
They float like wingéd flowers;
And when upon their shining plumes,
I watch the rainbow gleams,
I hear such songs as other ears
Hear only in their dreams.
106
No frowning storm-cloud broods in wrath
My pleasant world above,
For all the air is music there,
And every thought is love;
“The wind is never in the east”—
But zephyrs bland and sweet
Blow soft, and shake the blossoms down
In showers at my feet.
My pleasant world above,
For all the air is music there,
And every thought is love;
“The wind is never in the east”—
But zephyrs bland and sweet
Blow soft, and shake the blossoms down
In showers at my feet.
You think my world a lifeless realm,
A fair dead solitude,
Where loneliness and mystery
And voiceless silence brood;
But it has shapes of radiant grace,
With faces sweet and fair,
With brows unmarked by toil and grief,
And eyes undimmed by care.
A fair dead solitude,
Where loneliness and mystery
And voiceless silence brood;
But it has shapes of radiant grace,
With faces sweet and fair,
With brows unmarked by toil and grief,
And eyes undimmed by care.
These be the angel ministers
Who shield me with their wings,
And sing me sweet unearthly songs
Of high and holy things;
Who fill my heart with happiness
Which nothing can destroy,
And make my life, despite its clouds,
A blessing and a joy.
Who shield me with their wings,
And sing me sweet unearthly songs
Of high and holy things;
Who fill my heart with happiness
Which nothing can destroy,
And make my life, despite its clouds,
A blessing and a joy.
107
And when, like sad foreboding clouds,
Heavy with autumn rain,
The shadows of this outer life
Fall dark on heart and brain,
I have a refuge from their wrath
Which others may not see,
For into my ideal world
They cannot follow me.
Heavy with autumn rain,
The shadows of this outer life
Fall dark on heart and brain,
I have a refuge from their wrath
Which others may not see,
For into my ideal world
They cannot follow me.
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |