 | The poems, sacred, passionate, and humorous, of Nathaniel Parker Willis |  |
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REVERIES.
AN EARLY POEM.
I am an eldest son. My years
Have been like golden moments nursed;
And if I ever wept, my tears
From gentle fountains, gently burst.
My mother's kiss came with my prayer;
My father's blessing with my sleep;
My sister's words like music were,
And how could I have learn'd to weep?
I did not—and have worn a brow
Of sunshine, even until now.
Have been like golden moments nursed;
And if I ever wept, my tears
From gentle fountains, gently burst.
My mother's kiss came with my prayer;
My father's blessing with my sleep;
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And how could I have learn'd to weep?
I did not—and have worn a brow
Of sunshine, even until now.
Love comes to such like nature's law,
As waters swelling to a gush;
And thus, if light or life I saw,
My feelings to their source would rush.
A sunny leaf, a flitting shade,
A tint of autumn, moonlight, aught
By which this glorious world is made
So beautiful, my spirit caught—
And thrilling pleasure, and strange power
To love and to be blest rushed by,
And I have lived an angel's hour,
While sadder spirits long'd to die.
As waters swelling to a gush;
And thus, if light or life I saw,
My feelings to their source would rush.
A sunny leaf, a flitting shade,
A tint of autumn, moonlight, aught
By which this glorious world is made
So beautiful, my spirit caught—
And thrilling pleasure, and strange power
To love and to be blest rushed by,
And I have lived an angel's hour,
While sadder spirits long'd to die.
You well might deem that I should look
On coming days, as looks the sun
On leaf and tree, and find the book
Of nature seem a brilliant one.
Like him I look'd upon the side
The light in my own eye made bright;
And ever found the shadows glide
Like guilty spirits from my sight.
What marvel then that I should build
The dreams this loitering tale would tell,
Of light, and that my thought should gild
The airy elements too well?
On coming days, as looks the sun
On leaf and tree, and find the book
Of nature seem a brilliant one.
Like him I look'd upon the side
The light in my own eye made bright;
And ever found the shadows glide
Like guilty spirits from my sight.
What marvel then that I should build
The dreams this loitering tale would tell,
Of light, and that my thought should gild
The airy elements too well?
| The poems, sacred, passionate, and humorous, of Nathaniel Parker Willis | |