 | Lectures on art, and poems |  |
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THE MAGIC SLIPPERS.
TO MRS. S---, ON HER PRESENTING THE WRITER A PAIR OF CRIMSON SLIPPERS WROUGHT BY HERSELF.
I know not if a dream it were,
Or daylight scene in sunny air;
But once, methought, as stretched I lay
Beside a little forest Spring,
And musing on the cares that cling
To every heart, no earthly thing,
It seemed, could chase my gloom away.
Or daylight scene in sunny air;
But once, methought, as stretched I lay
Beside a little forest Spring,
And musing on the cares that cling
To every heart, no earthly thing,
It seemed, could chase my gloom away.
Above that little Spring there stood,
Like sentries to the sleeping wood,
Two sister Pines, that night and day
Their vigil kept; and ever there
A soft, low murmur filled the air,—
As if a child his little prayer
Were striving in a dream to say.
Like sentries to the sleeping wood,
Two sister Pines, that night and day
Their vigil kept; and ever there
A soft, low murmur filled the air,—
As if a child his little prayer
Were striving in a dream to say.
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In sooth, it was a solemn sound;
So pure, so child-like, yet profound,
It seemed to hold me in a spell.
And then, methought, the murmur broke
Its even stream, and strangely took
The form of words, and bade me look
Within that little forest Well.
So pure, so child-like, yet profound,
It seemed to hold me in a spell.
And then, methought, the murmur broke
Its even stream, and strangely took
The form of words, and bade me look
Within that little forest Well.
I looked,—and lo! a crimson flush,
Like to a gentle maiden's blush,
O'erspread the Spring; and then a sigh
Breathed from the Pines. A deeper hue,—
Which now to tiny vessels grew,
Riding at anchor o'er the blue
That dyed that dark, deep, nether sky.
Like to a gentle maiden's blush,
O'erspread the Spring; and then a sigh
Breathed from the Pines. A deeper hue,—
Which now to tiny vessels grew,
Riding at anchor o'er the blue
That dyed that dark, deep, nether sky.
But scarce could I the marvel note,
When straight within each magic boat
There stood two gallant Fairy Skippers;
And then anon they bore away,
Skimming the little azure bay
Swift to the bank where stretched I lay,
And took—the humble form of slippers!
When straight within each magic boat
There stood two gallant Fairy Skippers;
And then anon they bore away,
Skimming the little azure bay
Swift to the bank where stretched I lay,
And took—the humble form of slippers!
And now, in sweetly soothing strain,
Thus came the Piny voice again:—
“O, deem not, man, the gift we send
Of little worth; that gift was wrought
Where kind affections hallow thought,
And give—what wealth has never bought—
In every gentle heart a friend.”
Thus came the Piny voice again:—
“O, deem not, man, the gift we send
Of little worth; that gift was wrought
Where kind affections hallow thought,
And give—what wealth has never bought—
In every gentle heart a friend.”
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I seized the gift with eager joy;
And then,—as if again a boy,
A careless, happy boy once more,—
How pure, and beautiful, and kind
Seemed all I saw! The very wind
That kissed my cheek then seemed to bind
My heart to all it travelled o'er.
And then,—as if again a boy,
A careless, happy boy once more,—
How pure, and beautiful, and kind
Seemed all I saw! The very wind
That kissed my cheek then seemed to bind
My heart to all it travelled o'er.
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