 | Poems |  |
I. PART I.
AGE.
I tell you earth, and air, and sea
Are but one weary space for woe,
And it is only bliss to be
Above, or not to be below.
Are but one weary space for woe,
And it is only bliss to be
Above, or not to be below.
Without us, and within our breast,
Is human weakness, human sin:
And all in brightest semblance drest
Is dark, and foul, and false within.
Is human weakness, human sin:
And all in brightest semblance drest
Is dark, and foul, and false within.
4
My childhood's years are passing by;
Your words I do not know nor own:
Life has not taught me how to sigh,
But like a dream of light has flown.
Your words I do not know nor own:
Life has not taught me how to sigh,
But like a dream of light has flown.
The seasons, as they came and sped,
Brought but variety of joy:
Each year that went to join the dead
Left me a careless, happy boy.
Brought but variety of joy:
Each year that went to join the dead
Left me a careless, happy boy.
AGE.
Yet Spring upon her pinions bore
Sorrow to some, and toil to all;
And Debt was at the cottage door,
And Death was in the manor hall.
Sorrow to some, and toil to all;
And Debt was at the cottage door,
And Death was in the manor hall.
YOUTH.
To me, she came from Fairyland,
With gifts of youth to scatter here;
And bore a garment green and grand
To clothe the tattered, shivering year.
With gifts of youth to scatter here;
And bore a garment green and grand
To clothe the tattered, shivering year.
5
Queen Summer bade the sun to shine,
And I could make a nest of hay;
He did not seek the hills till nine,
But gave another hour to play.
And I could make a nest of hay;
He did not seek the hills till nine,
But gave another hour to play.
When Autumn came with sickle keen,
I've gathered nuts and gleaned the corn;
And homewards in the twilight been,
With shouting, on the waggon borne.
I've gathered nuts and gleaned the corn;
And homewards in the twilight been,
With shouting, on the waggon borne.
When Winter brought an icy rule,
And bade the northern winds to blow,
I slid across the frozen pool,
Or waged a mimic war of snow.
And bade the northern winds to blow,
I slid across the frozen pool,
Or waged a mimic war of snow.
And when the last late-lingering rays
Were gone, and darkness hid the day,
I played around the wintry blaze,
Or reading whiled the time away.
Were gone, and darkness hid the day,
I played around the wintry blaze,
Or reading whiled the time away.
6
A tale of love, a tale of war,
Would stay me in my wildest mirth;
And carried high in Fancy's car,
I left the sluggard air of earth.
Would stay me in my wildest mirth;
And carried high in Fancy's car,
I left the sluggard air of earth.
And reading of some knight of fame,
In tales of ages long gone by,
My spirit has been all on flame
To dare some deed of chivalry.
In tales of ages long gone by,
My spirit has been all on flame
To dare some deed of chivalry.
AGE.
Yet shortening days and leaflets brown
Brought Sorrow to the cottage nigh;
Fever had struck the reaper down,
And Famine bade the children die.
Brought Sorrow to the cottage nigh;
Fever had struck the reaper down,
And Famine bade the children die.
And Winter sent a ruthless blast
Where, scantly clothed and poorly fed,
The children o'er the common passed
To earn an aged mother bread.
Where, scantly clothed and poorly fed,
The children o'er the common passed
To earn an aged mother bread.
7
Yours are the hopes of boys and schools,
Unentered in the general strife:
Know Bliss is but the dream of fools,
And Sin and Care the truths of life.
Unentered in the general strife:
Know Bliss is but the dream of fools,
And Sin and Care the truths of life.
YOUTH.
I care not, stern and gloomy man:
Mine be my hopes, thy wisdom thine.
Man's made upon a happier plan,
As yonder sun was born to shine.
Mine be my hopes, thy wisdom thine.
Man's made upon a happier plan,
As yonder sun was born to shine.
For still I am a careless boy,
And little have I to regret;
And in my boyish cup of joy
The bitter is not mingled yet.
And little have I to regret;
And in my boyish cup of joy
The bitter is not mingled yet.
Nought know I of distress and tears,
Golden the prospect seems and fair:
Oh! shall I find in after years
The pleasure I have pictured there?
Golden the prospect seems and fair:
Oh! shall I find in after years
The pleasure I have pictured there?
| Poems | |