 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
BITTERSWEET SHADOWS.
Off we drifted, yesterday,
Till the sea-foam dashed the spray
Of the woodland bittersweet,
Leaning from a sunlit cove
Where amid salt winds it throve,
Swaying to the tide's low beat.
Till the sea-foam dashed the spray
Of the woodland bittersweet,
Leaning from a sunlit cove
Where amid salt winds it throve,
Swaying to the tide's low beat.
Oh, the afternoon was fair!
Murmurous echoes swept the air,—
Sigh of pines, and dip of oar:
Every breeze that passed us, went
Laden with some rare wood-scent,
Loitering down the dreamy shore.
Murmurous echoes swept the air,—
Sigh of pines, and dip of oar:
Every breeze that passed us, went
Laden with some rare wood-scent,
Loitering down the dreamy shore.
And we lingered, loitering too,
Where the heavy cedars threw
Shadows on the water's gold;
Till again in glee afloat,
Like a bird our idle boat
Skimmed the wavelets manifold.
Where the heavy cedars threw
Shadows on the water's gold;
Till again in glee afloat,
Like a bird our idle boat
Skimmed the wavelets manifold.
Then, the crystal channel won,
In its deep the shallop shone,
Sails of silver, prow of pearl:
Hidden ledges brake that dream,
Sucking down the flash and gleam
Underneath their high-tide swirl.
In its deep the shallop shone,
Sails of silver, prow of pearl:
Hidden ledges brake that dream,
Sucking down the flash and gleam
Underneath their high-tide swirl.
Free again, broad sunshine found,
Slid the boat on, greenly wound
With its veil of bittersweet,
Tangling round the sunk rock's edge,
Catching streamers of sea-sedge
From the sheen beneath our feet.
Slid the boat on, greenly wound
With its veil of bittersweet,
Tangling round the sunk rock's edge,
Catching streamers of sea-sedge
From the sheen beneath our feet.
11
Anchored in the dusk, a spell
From the folds of twilight fell
On the bay's black, star-strewn floor:
Awe with that weird glitter crept
Shuddering through our thoughts; we stept
Gladly on firm land once more,
From the folds of twilight fell
On the bay's black, star-strewn floor:
Awe with that weird glitter crept
Shuddering through our thoughts; we stept
Gladly on firm land once more,
Trailing home the bittersweet:
Such dim ending was but meet
For an afternoon so rare.
Was the date of yesterday?
Years since then have slipt away;
Few such memories they bear.
Such dim ending was but meet
For an afternoon so rare.
Was the date of yesterday?
Years since then have slipt away;
Few such memories they bear.
No to-days like that remain:
Joy is flavored now with pain;
For the best of all our crew,—
Helmsman, gentlest passenger,—
Lie so still they will not stir,
Though the sea should drench them through.
Joy is flavored now with pain;
For the best of all our crew,—
Helmsman, gentlest passenger,—
Lie so still they will not stir,
Though the sea should drench them through.
So our shallop floats no more
Where the low, vine-tangled shore
Dips its orange-golden fruit
To the plashing of the wave:
Only white flowers for a grave,
Now our serious hands will suit.
Where the low, vine-tangled shore
Dips its orange-golden fruit
To the plashing of the wave:
Only white flowers for a grave,
Now our serious hands will suit.
Still the sun shines, and we drift
Homeward on the current swift,
Those who went before to meet.
All things beautiful grow sad:
Yet even grief is sometimes glad;—
Shade us, Life, with bittersweet!
Homeward on the current swift,
Those who went before to meet.
All things beautiful grow sad:
Yet even grief is sometimes glad;—
Shade us, Life, with bittersweet!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |