The coronal a collection of miscellaneous pieces, written at various times |
LINES,
OCCASIONED BY HEARING A LITTLE BOY MOCK THE OLD
SOUTH BELL RINGING THE HOUR OF TWELVE. |
 | The coronal |  |
61
LINES,
OCCASIONED BY HEARING A LITTLE BOY MOCK THE OLD
SOUTH BELL RINGING THE HOUR OF TWELVE.
Aye, ring thy shout to the merry hours!
Well may ye part in glee!
From their sunny wings they scatter flowers,
And laughing look on thee!
Thy thrilling voice has started tears—
It brings to mind the day,
When I chased butterflies and years,
And both flew fast away.
Then my glad thoughts were few and free,—
They came but to depart;
They did not ask where heaven could be—
'Twas in my little heart.
I since have sought the meteor crown,
Which fame bestows on men—
How gladly would I throw it down,
To be so gay again!
But youthful joy has gone away—
In vain 'tis now pursued!
Such rainbow glories only stay
Around the simply good.
Well may ye part in glee!
From their sunny wings they scatter flowers,
And laughing look on thee!
Thy thrilling voice has started tears—
It brings to mind the day,
When I chased butterflies and years,
And both flew fast away.
Then my glad thoughts were few and free,—
They came but to depart;
They did not ask where heaven could be—
'Twas in my little heart.
I since have sought the meteor crown,
Which fame bestows on men—
How gladly would I throw it down,
To be so gay again!
But youthful joy has gone away—
In vain 'tis now pursued!
Such rainbow glories only stay
Around the simply good.
62
I know too much to be as blest
As when I was like thee;
My spirit, reason'd into rest,
Has lost its buoyancy.
Yet still I love the winged hours—
We often meet in glee;
And sometimes, too, are fragrant flowers
Their farewell gifts to me.
As when I was like thee;
My spirit, reason'd into rest,
Has lost its buoyancy.
Yet still I love the winged hours—
We often meet in glee;
And sometimes, too, are fragrant flowers
Their farewell gifts to me.
| The coronal | |