University of Virginia Library

It is the golden summer time,
Lovely the earth as in its prime,
When beauty glowed in Eden's bowers,
And sparkled in its blushing flowers;
When all things wore the radiant dye,
The hue of immortality.
Fair and pleasant is the scene:
A sloping lawn of tender green
Is set amidst a ring of trees,
And flow'rs attract the honey bees,
Whose hum is heard upon the breeze.
Southward there gleams a tranquil lake,
Where, in a thousand ripples, break
The waves that shine like diamonds bright
In the fair morning's glowing light.
And near the house a fountain plays,
Which leaps to meet the sun's bright rays;
And then falls back with cooling sound,
Scattering bright rainbow showers around.

Upon this fair and fragrant lawn,
In youth's first flush and rosy dawn,
A merry group of children play
And with their sport beguile the day;
Such children as to us are given,
As if to say—“Of such is heaven.”
Some chase, with lightsome step and spring,
The butterfly's enamelled wing;
Some gather flow'rets fresh and fair,
And twine them in their wavy hair.
Or to their voices' music sweet,
In graceful dance advance, retreat;
And ever come upon the ear,
Sweet joyous shouts and laughter clear,
Wild bursts of uncontrollèd glee,
And innocent glad revelry.
But two, apart from all the throng,
Nor heed the dance, nor list the song,
A boy and girl, in life's first pride,
Sit near each other, side by side.
Of different beauty each, though fair,
He with dark eyes, and raven hair;
Her tresses sunny, and her eye
Steeped in the heaven's bluest dye.
As two flowers growing from one stem,
Whose dewy petals meet and twine
As two gems in a diadem,
With the one lustre flash and shine
So these fair children, sweet and young,
As any minstrel ever sung,
Near to each other, sit apart,
One in hope, and one in heart.

Here, in the early summer light,
In childhood's morning, glad and bright,
With the roses blooming near,
And slender lilies tall, and clear,
These two have come from all the others,
Friends and sisters, fathers, brothers.
He o'er her tenderly doth bow,
And twines a garland for her brow;
While she, with sweet and artless smile,
Looks up into his eyes the while,
And glows her cheek with youthful pride,
As he lisping calls her “little bride.”
O happy days, so fair and bright!
O world, all clad in tender light!
O radiant hours, must ye then pass
Like shadows flitting o'er the grass?

And now the delicate feast is laid
Beneath the beeches in the shade,
And here glow ripe and mellow fruits,
With dulcet creams, and juicy roots;
Red grapes and amber from the vine,
That like to lustrous jewels shine;
All that could please these children fair,
Was placed in plenteous bounty there.
So passed the happy hours away,
Until in beauty closed the day.
The sun in splendour rich and bright,
His bed a couch of rosy light,
Sank slowly to his evening rest,
Flooding with glory all the glowing west.
Then sounded from the old church tower
The curfew-bell, toiling the parting hour;
Its solemn chime falling upon the ear,
Now loud and high, now deep and clear.
Then came the pleasant eventide,
And all the heavens, far and wide,
Were filled with stars, which gleamed and shone
Around the white moon on her throne.
The flowers had long since closed their eyes,
The fair white lily, and the crimson rose;
But still they send forth fragrant sighs,
And all their sweetness they disclose.
The birds are silent in the trees,
Nor is there heard the whisper of a breeze.
Only one bird prolongs her note,
And she, the sweet-voiced nightingale,
Fills with her music all the dale,
Which gushing from her swelling throat,
A hurried and a passionate strain,
Echo awake repeats again
In modulated love and pain.
And when the happy birds and bees
Flew to their homes amongst the trees,
And dewy flowr's, as daylight fled,
Slept with shut eyes and drooping head,
The children sought each their mother's nest,
And soon were folded to her breast.
They parted all, and calm came down,
A benediction like a crown
Resting in blessing on each brow
That lay in happy slumber now.

Oh, who may say what after fate
These joyous little ones await?
Oh, who may tell if bliss or woe
Shall be their portion here below?
Shout! shout! make echo ring again
With your wild, mirthful glee;
Your brows are yet undimmed by pain,
Your hearts from care are free.
Shout! shout and laugh! for coming years
May turn your mirth and joy to tears.
Then visions of these youthful days,
And of this sunlit green,
Will flit across your weary gaze;
And joys that once have been,
Into new life shall rush, and start,
Will pierce the brain, and wring the heart,
Will bring fresh tears, and bitter sorrows,
Thoughts of sweet yesterdays, and sad to-morrows;
And you will feel that years of pain
Would cheaply purchase hours of youth again.