 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
SHADOWS.
When I see the long wild briers
Waving in the winds like fires,
See the green skirts of the maples
Barred with scarlet and with gold,
See the sunflower, heavy-hearted,
Shadows then from days departed
Come and with their tender trembles
Wrap my bosom, fold on fold.
Waving in the winds like fires,
See the green skirts of the maples
Barred with scarlet and with gold,
See the sunflower, heavy-hearted,
Shadows then from days departed
Come and with their tender trembles
Wrap my bosom, fold on fold.
I can hear sweet invitations
Through the sobbing, sad vibrations
Of the winds that follow, follow,
As from self I seek to fly—
Come up hither! come up hither!
Leave the rough and rainy weather!
Come up where the royal roses
Never fade and never die!
Through the sobbing, sad vibrations
Of the winds that follow, follow,
As from self I seek to fly—
Come up hither! come up hither!
Leave the rough and rainy weather!
Come up where the royal roses
Never fade and never die!
'T was when May was blushing, blooming,
Brown bee, bluebirds, singing, humming,
That we built and walled our chamber
With the emerald of leaves;
Made our bed of yellow mosses,
Soft as pile of silken flosses,
Dreamed our dreams in dewy brightness
Radiant like the morns and eves.
Brown bee, bluebirds, singing, humming,
That we built and walled our chamber
With the emerald of leaves;
Made our bed of yellow mosses,
Soft as pile of silken flosses,
Dreamed our dreams in dewy brightness
Radiant like the morns and eves.
And it was when woods were gleaming,
And when clouds were wildly streaming
Gray and umber, white and ember,
Streaming in the north wind's breath,
That my little rose-mouthed blossom
Fell and faded on my bosom,
Cankered by the coming coldness,
Blighted by the frosts of death.
And when clouds were wildly streaming
Gray and umber, white and ember,
Streaming in the north wind's breath,
That my little rose-mouthed blossom
Fell and faded on my bosom,
Cankered by the coming coldness,
Blighted by the frosts of death.
Therefore, when I see the shadows,
Drifting in across the meadows,
See the troops of summer wild birds
Flying from us, cloud on cloud,
Memory with that May-time lingers,
And I seem to feel the fingers
Of my lost and lovely darling
Wrap my heart up in her shroud.
Drifting in across the meadows,
See the troops of summer wild birds
Flying from us, cloud on cloud,
Memory with that May-time lingers,
And I seem to feel the fingers
Of my lost and lovely darling
Wrap my heart up in her shroud.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |