 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
THE MAGIC FLOWER.
When I was a little child
On the seaward hillsides playing,
By my pretty dreams beguiled,
Hither, thither, went I straying.
On the seaward hillsides playing,
By my pretty dreams beguiled,
Hither, thither, went I straying.
Sometimes 't was a fairy-book;
Sometimes, my own fancy's spinning;
Laugh of sunbeam, lisp of brook;—
Who has tracked a dream's beginning?
Sometimes, my own fancy's spinning;
Laugh of sunbeam, lisp of brook;—
Who has tracked a dream's beginning?
Once I heard my blithe heart say,
Like a queen within her bower,
“Child, come forth! we will to-day
Seek the magic leaf and flower.
Like a queen within her bower,
“Child, come forth! we will to-day
Seek the magic leaf and flower.
“Often have we read of them
In old legends, wizard-haunted,
Where a daisy's diadem
Crowns some hidden prince enchanted.
In old legends, wizard-haunted,
Where a daisy's diadem
Crowns some hidden prince enchanted.
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“What if, on the hill-top there,
Lady bright or noble lover
Still in fragrant bondage were,
Stifled, shut in rose or clover?”
Lady bright or noble lover
Still in fragrant bondage were,
Stifled, shut in rose or clover?”
So my heart and I went forth
On the wide gray hills together,
All our homely northern earth
Glowing in the radiant weather.
On the wide gray hills together,
All our homely northern earth
Glowing in the radiant weather.
And, oh wonder! where I trod
Sprang a gold-and-purple glory
Never seen before! the sod
Read to me a fairy story!
Sprang a gold-and-purple glory
Never seen before! the sod
Read to me a fairy story!
Disk and ray so star-like were!
This was the enchanted blossom:
I was its discoverer:—
How my heart danced in my bosom!
This was the enchanted blossom:
I was its discoverer:—
How my heart danced in my bosom!
Who could guess but at its root
My true knight for me was waiting;
Royal playmate, crowned, though mute,
Smiling through his prison-grating?
My true knight for me was waiting;
Royal playmate, crowned, though mute,
Smiling through his prison-grating?
Long I kept my secret well;
But the blossom passed, unwitting,
Whither, I could never tell;
Who has tracked a fairy's flitting?
But the blossom passed, unwitting,
Whither, I could never tell;
Who has tracked a fairy's flitting?
“It was but a common flower,”
Afterward the cold years told me:
Still my childhood's dream has power
With a sweet warmth to enfold me.
Afterward the cold years told me:
Still my childhood's dream has power
With a sweet warmth to enfold me.
Out of elf-land's magic haze
Many a wise, clear voice has spoken:
And the old enchantment stays,
Though the enchanter's spell is broken.
Many a wise, clear voice has spoken:
And the old enchantment stays,
Though the enchanter's spell is broken.
Though no witch-wand may unroll
From a wild-flower human features,
Every form implies a soul:
God makes only living creatures.
From a wild-flower human features,
Every form implies a soul:
God makes only living creatures.
Ever since, fresh mysteries
From the ground I tread have risen;
Each sweet spirit flower-like is,
Blooming in its earthly prison.
From the ground I tread have risen;
Each sweet spirit flower-like is,
Blooming in its earthly prison.
Every blossom gives a hint
Of some friend I know and cherish,
In its grace of mien or tint:—
Friends and flowers, alas, must perish!
Of some friend I know and cherish,
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Friends and flowers, alas, must perish!
Still, of both, the life remains,—
All they gave me of their glory:
And upon celestial plains
I may read their perfect story.
All they gave me of their glory:
And upon celestial plains
I may read their perfect story.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |