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336
THE TUSCAN GIRL.
How pleasant and how sad the turning tide
Of human life, when side by side
The child and youth begin to glide
Along the vale of years,
The pure twin-being for a little space,
With lightsome heart, and yet a graver face,
Too young for woe, though not for tears.
Of human life, when side by side
The child and youth begin to glide
Along the vale of years,
The pure twin-being for a little space,
With lightsome heart, and yet a graver face,
Too young for woe, though not for tears.
This turning tide is Ursulina's now,
The time is marked upon her brow,
Now every thought and feeling throw
Their shadows on her face;
For so are every thought and feeling joined,
'T were hard to answer whether heart or mind
Of either were the native place.
The time is marked upon her brow,
Now every thought and feeling throw
Their shadows on her face;
For so are every thought and feeling joined,
'T were hard to answer whether heart or mind
Of either were the native place.
The things that once she loved are still the same,
Yet now there needs another name
To give the feeling which they claim,
While she the feeling gives;
She cannot call it gladness or delight;
And yet there seems a richer, lovelier light
On e'en the humblest thing that lives.
Yet now there needs another name
To give the feeling which they claim,
While she the feeling gives;
She cannot call it gladness or delight;
And yet there seems a richer, lovelier light
On e'en the humblest thing that lives.
337
She sees the mottled moth come twinkling by,
And sees it sip the floweret nigh;
Yet not as once, with eager cry,
She grasps the pretty thing;
Her thoughts now mingle with its tranquil mood,—
So poised in air, as if on air it stood,
To show its gold and purple wing.
And sees it sip the floweret nigh;
Yet not as once, with eager cry,
She grasps the pretty thing;
Her thoughts now mingle with its tranquil mood,—
So poised in air, as if on air it stood,
To show its gold and purple wing.
She hears the bird without a wish to snare,
But rather on the azure air
To mount, and with it wander there
To some untrodden land;
As if it told her, in its happy song,
Of pleasure strange that never can belong
To aught of sight or touch of hand.
But rather on the azure air
To mount, and with it wander there
To some untrodden land;
As if it told her, in its happy song,
Of pleasure strange that never can belong
To aught of sight or touch of hand.
Now the young soul her mighty power shall prove,
And outward things around her move
Pure ministers of purer love,
And make the heart her home,
Or to the meaner senses sink a slave,
To do their bidding, though they madly crave
Through hateful scenes of vice to roam.
And outward things around her move
Pure ministers of purer love,
And make the heart her home,
Or to the meaner senses sink a slave,
To do their bidding, though they madly crave
Through hateful scenes of vice to roam.
But, Ursulina, thine the better choice;
Thine eyes so speak, as with a voice;
Thy heart may still in Earth rejoice
And all its beauty love,
But no, not all this fair, enchanting Earth,
With all its spells, can give the rapture birth
That waits thy conscious soul above.
Thine eyes so speak, as with a voice;
Thy heart may still in Earth rejoice
And all its beauty love,
But no, not all this fair, enchanting Earth,
With all its spells, can give the rapture birth
That waits thy conscious soul above.
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