The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard With a Memoir by Blanchard Jerrold |
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SIMPLICITY.
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 | The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard |  |
183
SIMPLICITY.
Gently, gently yet, young stranger!
Light of heart and light of heel;
Ere the bird perceives its danger,
On it slyly steal.
Silence! ha! your scheme is failing—
No; pursue your pretty prey;
See, your shadow on the paling
Startles it away.
Light of heart and light of heel;
Ere the bird perceives its danger,
On it slyly steal.
Silence! ha! your scheme is failing—
No; pursue your pretty prey;
See, your shadow on the paling
Startles it away.
Hush! your step some note is giving;
Not a whisper—not a breath;
Watchful be as aught that's living,
And be mute as death!
Glide on ghost-like, still inclining
Downwards o'er it, as sure
As the sun is on us shining,
Till escape the lure.
Not a whisper—not a breath;
Watchful be as aught that's living,
And be mute as death!
Glide on ghost-like, still inclining
Downwards o'er it, as sure
As the sun is on us shining,
Till escape the lure.
Caution! now you're nearer creeping;
Nearer yet—how still it seems!
Sure the winged creature's sleeping,
Wrapt in forest dreams!
Golden sights that bird is seeing,
Nest of green on mossy bough;
Not a thought it hath of fleeing—
Yes, you'll catch it now.
Nearer yet—how still it seems!
Sure the winged creature's sleeping,
Wrapt in forest dreams!
184
Nest of green on mossy bough;
Not a thought it hath of fleeing—
Yes, you'll catch it now.
How your eyes begin to twinkle,
Silence, and you'll scarcely fail;
Now stoop down and softly sprinkle
Salt upon its tail.
Yes, you have it in your tether,
Never more to skim the skies;
Lodge the salt on this long feather,—
Ha! it flies, it flies.
Silence, and you'll scarcely fail;
Now stoop down and softly sprinkle
Salt upon its tail.
Yes, you have it in your tether,
Never more to skim the skies;
Lodge the salt on this long feather,—
Ha! it flies, it flies.
Hear it! hark! among the bushes,
Laughing at your idle lures.
Boy, the selfsame feeling gushes
Through my heart and yours;
Baffled sportsman, childish mentor,
How have I been, hapless fault,
Led like you, my hopes to centre
In a grain of salt.
Laughing at your idle lures.
Boy, the selfsame feeling gushes
Through my heart and yours;
Baffled sportsman, childish mentor,
How have I been, hapless fault,
Led like you, my hopes to centre
In a grain of salt.
Time, thy feathers turn to arrows;
I for salt have used thy sand,
Wasting it on hopes like sparrows,
That elude the hand.
On what captives I've been counting
Stooping here and creeping there,
All to see my bright hope mounting
High into the air.
I for salt have used thy sand,
Wasting it on hopes like sparrows,
That elude the hand.
On what captives I've been counting
Stooping here and creeping there,
All to see my bright hope mounting
High into the air.
185
Half my life I've been pursuing,
Plans often tried before;
Rhapsodies that end in ruin,
I and thousands more.
This, young sportsman, be your warning,
Though you've lost some hours to day,
Others spend their life's fair warning,
In no wiser way.
Plans often tried before;
Rhapsodies that end in ruin,
I and thousands more.
This, young sportsman, be your warning,
Though you've lost some hours to day,
Others spend their life's fair warning,
In no wiser way.
What hath been my holiest treasure?
What were ye unto my eyes?
Love and peace, and hope and pleasure,
Birds of Paradise.
Spirits that we think to capture,
By a false and childish scheme,
Until tears dissolve our rapture,
Darkness ends our dream.
What were ye unto my eyes?
Love and peace, and hope and pleasure,
Birds of Paradise.
Spirits that we think to capture,
By a false and childish scheme,
Until tears dissolve our rapture,
Darkness ends our dream.
Thus are objects loved the dearest,
Distant as the dazzling star;
And when we appear the nearest,
Farthest off we are.
Thus have children of all ages,
Seeing bliss before them fly,
Found their hearts but empty cages,
And their hopes on high.
Distant as the dazzling star;
And when we appear the nearest,
Farthest off we are.
Thus have children of all ages,
Seeing bliss before them fly,
Found their hearts but empty cages,
And their hopes on high.
1831.
| The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | |