 | A gift book of stories and poems for children |  |
51
THE VERMONT CHILDREN.
Three fleeting years have come and gone
Since Ann Pomroy I met,
Returning from the district school,
Ere yet the sun was set.
Since Ann Pomroy I met,
Returning from the district school,
Ere yet the sun was set.
With her, her brother Francis stray'd,
And, both in merry tone,
Were saying all the rambling things
Youth loves when tasks are done.
And, both in merry tone,
Were saying all the rambling things
Youth loves when tasks are done.
The mountain tinge was on their cheeks;
From far Vermont they came,
For wandering habits led their sire
A Southern home to claim.
From far Vermont they came,
For wandering habits led their sire
A Southern home to claim.
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Fresh with the airy spring of youth
They tripp'd the woods along;
Now darting off to cull a flower,
Now bursting into song.
They tripp'd the woods along;
Now darting off to cull a flower,
Now bursting into song.
Oh, Ann Pomroy, thy sparkling eye
Methinks I often see,
When some young face in loveliness,
Beams up in smiles to me.
Methinks I often see,
When some young face in loveliness,
Beams up in smiles to me.
And when light rounds of boyish mirth
Laugh out uncheck'd by fear,
It seems to me that Francis' voice
Is floating on my ear.
Laugh out uncheck'd by fear,
It seems to me that Francis' voice
Is floating on my ear.
I said the hue of health they bore,—
Hers was the nect'rine fair,
And his the deep pomegranate tinge,
That boys of beauty wear.
Hers was the nect'rine fair,
And his the deep pomegranate tinge,
That boys of beauty wear.
They walk'd at early morn and eve,
And as I yearly paid
My visit to the Planter's Hall,
I saw the youth and maid.
And as I yearly paid
My visit to the Planter's Hall,
I saw the youth and maid.
At first, by simple accident,
I came upon their walk;
But soon I loved to pause and seek
The privilege of talk—
I came upon their walk;
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The privilege of talk—
Until my steps were daily turn'd,
But how I scarce can say,
When Ann and Francis came from home,
To meet them on the way.
But how I scarce can say,
When Ann and Francis came from home,
To meet them on the way.
They told me of New England hills,
Of orchards in the sun,
Of sleigh-rides with the merry bells,
Of skating's stirring fun;
Of orchards in the sun,
Of sleigh-rides with the merry bells,
Of skating's stirring fun;
And sometimes of a grave they spake,
And then would sadder grow,
In which a gentle mother slept
Beneath the wintry snow.
And then would sadder grow,
In which a gentle mother slept
Beneath the wintry snow.
When April's changing face was seen,
Again from town I flew,
To where the sleep of nature wakes
To sights and odours new.
Again from town I flew,
To where the sleep of nature wakes
To sights and odours new.
All things were fair,—the plants of earth
Look'd upward to the sky,
And the blue heaven o'er-arched them still
With clear and glittering eye.
Look'd upward to the sky,
And the blue heaven o'er-arched them still
With clear and glittering eye.
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I sought the walk I used to seek,
And took the little store
Of toys, that from the city's mart,
For Ann and Frank I bore.
And took the little store
Of toys, that from the city's mart,
For Ann and Frank I bore.
A rustling in the leaves I heard,
But Francis only came;
His eye was dim, his cheek was pale,
And agues shook his frame.
But Francis only came;
His eye was dim, his cheek was pale,
And agues shook his frame.
He saw me, to my open arms
With sudden gladness sprang;
Then raised a thrilling cry of grief,
With which the forest rang.
With sudden gladness sprang;
Then raised a thrilling cry of grief,
With which the forest rang.
Few words he spake, but led me on
To where a grave-like mound,
With young spring plants and evergreens,
In rural taste were crown'd.
To where a grave-like mound,
With young spring plants and evergreens,
In rural taste were crown'd.
And there he stood, while gushing tears
Like summer rain-drops came,
And heavings, as a troubled sea,
Went o'er his blighted frame.
Like summer rain-drops came,
And heavings, as a troubled sea,
Went o'er his blighted frame.
I did not ask him who was there;
I felt that Ann was gone;
Around his drooping neck I hung,
And stood like him forlorn.
I felt that Ann was gone;
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And stood like him forlorn.
“I soon shall die,” the mourner said;
“Here will they make my grave,
And over me the Cedar trees
And moaning Pines will wave.
“Here will they make my grave,
And over me the Cedar trees
And moaning Pines will wave.
“None then will come to tend the flowers
That blossom o'er her bed;
None sing for her the twilight dirge,
When I am with the dead.
That blossom o'er her bed;
None sing for her the twilight dirge,
When I am with the dead.
“I can not join the school-boy sports;
My head and heart are sad;
When Ann is in her silent grave,
Oh, how can I be glad?
My head and heart are sad;
When Ann is in her silent grave,
Oh, how can I be glad?
“And when I say my studied tasks,
Or gain the once-loved prize,
I weep, and softly pray to Heaven
To lay me where she lies.”
Or gain the once-loved prize,
I weep, and softly pray to Heaven
To lay me where she lies.”
I kiss'd his pale and suffering brow,
By early sorrows riven;
I talk'd to him of her he lov'd,
And rais'd his thoughts to Heaven.
By early sorrows riven;
I talk'd to him of her he lov'd,
And rais'd his thoughts to Heaven.
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And when the call of duty came,
To take me from his side,
He told me, with a sickly smile,
“'Twas best that Ann had died.”
To take me from his side,
He told me, with a sickly smile,
“'Twas best that Ann had died.”
Another annual season roll'd
Its cares and joys along—
Again I sought the country's charms,
Deep woods and caroll'd song.
Its cares and joys along—
Again I sought the country's charms,
Deep woods and caroll'd song.
And there I found two silent graves
Amid the vernal bloom—
I ne'er shall see those forms again,
Till Heaven unseals the tomb.
Amid the vernal bloom—
I ne'er shall see those forms again,
Till Heaven unseals the tomb.
Oh, Southern summer, false and fair,
Why, on thy loaded wing,
Blent with rich flowers and fruitage rare,
The seeds of sorrow bring?
Why, on thy loaded wing,
Blent with rich flowers and fruitage rare,
The seeds of sorrow bring?
| A gift book of stories and poems for children | |