 | The poetical writings of Elizabeth Oakes Smith |  |
144
THE PARK FOUNTAIN.
Snowy fountain upward gushing
Like a spirit birth of glee,
From thy cold, dark pathway rushing
Thus rejoicing to be free;
On my cheek thy spray is falling,
Rock, and dell, and songful bird,
Echoes on each other calling,
In thy melody are heard.
Like a spirit birth of glee,
From thy cold, dark pathway rushing
Thus rejoicing to be free;
On my cheek thy spray is falling,
Rock, and dell, and songful bird,
Echoes on each other calling,
In thy melody are heard.
Thou dost owe thy birth, O, fountain,
Far away by wood and dale,
Silver streamlets from the mountain
Steal to thee in lonely vale;
Still amid thy falling water,
Mirrored in thy crystal sheen,
Frolic wood-nymphs, wild with laughter,
Lured by thee from woodland green.
Far away by wood and dale,
Silver streamlets from the mountain
Steal to thee in lonely vale;
Still amid thy falling water,
Mirrored in thy crystal sheen,
Frolic wood-nymphs, wild with laughter,
Lured by thee from woodland green.
145
Home of light and glory leaving
For a pathway dim and drear,
Struggling, hoping, inly grieving,
Thou rejoicest to be here;
Yet a sorrow mingleth ever
With the joy that set thee free;
Thou art falling, fountain, never
Shall thy hope be given thee!
For a pathway dim and drear,
Struggling, hoping, inly grieving,
Thou rejoicest to be here;
Yet a sorrow mingleth ever
With the joy that set thee free;
Thou art falling, fountain, never
Shall thy hope be given thee!
Thus through darkness, doubt, and sorrow,
Struggling in our pathway on,
Hoping brighter things to-morrow,
Sorrowing when the goal is won;
Thus like thee, do we, O fountain,
Half in memory of the past,
Look once more for bower and mountain,
Visions bright, too bright to last.
Struggling in our pathway on,
Hoping brighter things to-morrow,
Sorrowing when the goal is won;
Thus like thee, do we, O fountain,
Half in memory of the past,
Look once more for bower and mountain,
Visions bright, too bright to last.
Thus like thee are upward mounting,
Hopes for earth too fair and bright;
Perished hopes the hours are counting
With a promise of delight;
Yet we give them kindly greeting,
Till the heart itself be riven—
Visions fond, and frail,and fleeting,
Bathed like thee in hues of heaven.
Hopes for earth too fair and bright;
Perished hopes the hours are counting
With a promise of delight;
Yet we give them kindly greeting,
Till the heart itself be riven—
Visions fond, and frail,and fleeting,
Bathed like thee in hues of heaven.
| The poetical writings of Elizabeth Oakes Smith | |