 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
306
THE TWO SONGS.
A thrush in a cage, and you ask me to buy
And be lord of the little brown captive? Not I.
Stay—here is your dollar; that cage give to me;
The window is open—brown thrush, you are free!
And be lord of the little brown captive? Not I.
Stay—here is your dollar; that cage give to me;
The window is open—brown thrush, you are free!
The vender has gone with his silver, and you
Seem astonished at both what I say and I do.
Not strange had you known of the feeling that stirred
The depths of my soul at the voice of the bird.
Seem astonished at both what I say and I do.
Not strange had you known of the feeling that stirred
The depths of my soul at the voice of the bird.
When Avice was living, you knew me not then;
She's been dead twenty years—I ne'er married again.
Twice won and twice lost was my darling so fair—
Twice won by the voice of a thrush in the air.
She's been dead twenty years—I ne'er married again.
Twice won and twice lost was my darling so fair—
Twice won by the voice of a thrush in the air.
I met with my Avice when scarce more than boy,
I, bashful and fond, and she, timid and coy;
And, as her face reddened and drooped at my gaze,
My heart thrilled with rapture, my brain with amaze.
I, bashful and fond, and she, timid and coy;
And, as her face reddened and drooped at my gaze,
My heart thrilled with rapture, my brain with amaze.
Ah! first love is fond love, and purest of all,
The least selfish sentiment known since the Fall;
Let worldlings deride it much as they may,
'Tis the rosy aurora that ushers life's day.
The least selfish sentiment known since the Fall;
Let worldlings deride it much as they may,
'Tis the rosy aurora that ushers life's day.
Though strong was my feeling, my purpose was weak;
I could look what I felt, with no courage to speak;
And for nearly two years, though we met day by day,
She could not, I dare not—so time rolled away.
I could look what I felt, with no courage to speak;
And for nearly two years, though we met day by day,
She could not, I dare not—so time rolled away.
307
How well I remember that morning in June,
When the brook with the leaves of the wildwood kept tune,
When a party of young folk climbed yonder hill's crest,
And Avice and I went along with the rest.
When the brook with the leaves of the wildwood kept tune,
When a party of young folk climbed yonder hill's crest,
And Avice and I went along with the rest.
We scattered in couples, as young lovers will,
And roamed through the coppice that covered the hill,
And gathered the wild blooms that scantily grew,
Though little we noted their odor or hue.
And roamed through the coppice that covered the hill,
And gathered the wild blooms that scantily grew,
Though little we noted their odor or hue.
As Avice and I walked in silence we heard
Arise from a thicket the song of a bird,
And Avice's finger held up bade me hear
The notes of a thrush sounding mellow and clear.
Arise from a thicket the song of a bird,
And Avice's finger held up bade me hear
The notes of a thrush sounding mellow and clear.
Our hands chanced to touch, and a thrill went through each
Too subtle for telling, too potent for speech;
And the thrush sang on cheerily, note after note,
While our heart-beats kept time with each sound from his throat.
Too subtle for telling, too potent for speech;
And the thrush sang on cheerily, note after note,
While our heart-beats kept time with each sound from his throat.
We plighted our faith, hand in hand, heart in heart;
We vowed naught asunder our twin souls should part;
The world seemed before us a pathway of flowers,
And the light and the glory of loving were ours.
We vowed naught asunder our twin souls should part;
The world seemed before us a pathway of flowers,
And the light and the glory of loving were ours.
But we quarrelled, as lovers will quarrel at times;
For jealousy magnifies trifles to crimes,
And friends were still ready to keep us apart,
And for faults of the head lay the blame on the heart.
For jealousy magnifies trifles to crimes,
And friends were still ready to keep us apart,
And for faults of the head lay the blame on the heart.
A year passed in pain. Oft we met with no word,
Whatever emotion within us was stirred;
No look showed the feelings our bosoms contained,
Nor that sparks still alive in the ashes remained.
Whatever emotion within us was stirred;
No look showed the feelings our bosoms contained,
Nor that sparks still alive in the ashes remained.
308
At length I could bear with my suffering no more,
And sought change of thought on a far foreign shore;
Five years toiled for fortune, nor sought it in vain;
Then, worn by the struggle, came back o'er the main.
And sought change of thought on a far foreign shore;
Five years toiled for fortune, nor sought it in vain;
Then, worn by the struggle, came back o'er the main.
I returned on a morning in June, calm and still;
Instinctive my steps sought the path to the hill;
And I stood all alone on the bush-covered crest
Where Avice and I had our loving confessed.
Instinctive my steps sought the path to the hill;
And I stood all alone on the bush-covered crest
Where Avice and I had our loving confessed.
A rustling of leaves struck my ear in the place—
'Twas Avice. What brought her? No change in her face.
I trembled and bowed, would have passed her; but then
The song of six years before sounded again.
'Twas Avice. What brought her? No change in her face.
I trembled and bowed, would have passed her; but then
The song of six years before sounded again.
'Twas the voice of the thrush with its wonderful strain;
On the fever within us the notes fell like rain;
Love arose from the grave of the long, weary years;
Our hands met, our lips met, with sighing and tears.
On the fever within us the notes fell like rain;
Love arose from the grave of the long, weary years;
Our hands met, our lips met, with sighing and tears.
Ten years she was mine—you must pardon this tear;
She lies in the churchyard, and I linger here.
Now you know why the captive I bought and set free,
Why the thrush of all birds is the dearest to me.
She lies in the churchyard, and I linger here.
Now you know why the captive I bought and set free,
Why the thrush of all birds is the dearest to me.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |