 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
172
THE AWAKENING.
Cradled soft by his snowy wings,
Love lay sleeping, one summer day,
Arrows and bows were forgotten things,
As wrapped in his blissful dreams he lay,—
When gentle Merit came wandering by,
With drooping lashes and humble heart;—
And Love, as he slumbered, caught her eye,—
So, brushing the curtaining leaves apart,
Love lay sleeping, one summer day,
Arrows and bows were forgotten things,
As wrapped in his blissful dreams he lay,—
When gentle Merit came wandering by,
With drooping lashes and humble heart;—
And Love, as he slumbered, caught her eye,—
So, brushing the curtaining leaves apart,
She kissed his fair forehead and whispered “Rise!
Heedest thou, Love, who is calling thee?”
But Love half-opened his drowsy eyes,
And shook his white shoulders angrily,
While Merit, with sighs and a saddened look,
Reclosed the branches his rest above,
And wrote in her heart's tear-spotted book,—
“Merit may never waken Love!”
Heedest thou, Love, who is calling thee?”
But Love half-opened his drowsy eyes,
And shook his white shoulders angrily,
While Merit, with sighs and a saddened look,
Reclosed the branches his rest above,
And wrote in her heart's tear-spotted book,—
“Merit may never waken Love!”
173
Soon, Beauty came, with her form of grace.
Her faultless features and queenly air,
And bending over the young boy's face,
She smiled as she saw him sleeping there;
And Love sprang up from his rosy rest,
And shaking his wings with wild delight.
He fondly clasped to his gladdened breast
The radiant maiden who charmed his sight.
Her faultless features and queenly air,
And bending over the young boy's face,
She smiled as she saw him sleeping there;
And Love sprang up from his rosy rest,
And shaking his wings with wild delight.
He fondly clasped to his gladdened breast
The radiant maiden who charmed his sight.
But Merit, retired from Love apart,
While to hide her gushing tears she strove,
Had seen, with an almost breaking heart
How easily Beauty awakened Love,—
And she turned away, with the hopeless look
So sad to see in the eye of youth,
And wrote in her heart's half-opened book,
Tearfully, sadly, this bitter truth:—
While to hide her gushing tears she strove,
Had seen, with an almost breaking heart
How easily Beauty awakened Love,—
And she turned away, with the hopeless look
So sad to see in the eye of youth,
And wrote in her heart's half-opened book,
Tearfully, sadly, this bitter truth:—
“Alas, with Love it is ever so—
All vainly may Merit shake him,
But one careless glance let Beauty throw,
And how strangely soon 't will wake him!”
All vainly may Merit shake him,
But one careless glance let Beauty throw,
And how strangely soon 't will wake him!”
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |