Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
 |
|
|
TO JAMES T. FIELDS. |
|
|
 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
151
TO JAMES T. FIELDS.
My dear old friend,—kind, genial James,—
Old Time, that the emotions tames,
Has wrought no change in friendship's claims
'Twixt you and me,
And now, as when in boyhood's aims,
We still agree.
Old Time, that the emotions tames,
Has wrought no change in friendship's claims
'Twixt you and me,
And now, as when in boyhood's aims,
We still agree.
In spheres diverse our lots were cast,
And years, in busy purpose passed,
Show us, on summing up at last,
A different fare;
But glad am I that fortune fast
Has been your share.
And years, in busy purpose passed,
Show us, on summing up at last,
A different fare;
But glad am I that fortune fast
Has been your share.
No truer soul than yours, my friend,
Did ever favoring fates attend,
With power to reach desired end;
None more deserving
The boon that Heaven doth kindly send
For truth unswerving.
Did ever favoring fates attend,
With power to reach desired end;
None more deserving
The boon that Heaven doth kindly send
For truth unswerving.
152
Amid the smiles of rich success,
While wealth and fame their claim might press,
No lure could dull the tenderness
Of early years,
Or make that light of lights grow less
That still inheres.
While wealth and fame their claim might press,
No lure could dull the tenderness
Of early years,
Or make that light of lights grow less
That still inheres.
I've felt its warmth when cloudy skies
Made all seem dark before my eyes;
When adverse Fate in sternest guise
My heart assailed,
You bade my hope again arise,
And peace prevailed.
Made all seem dark before my eyes;
When adverse Fate in sternest guise
My heart assailed,
You bade my hope again arise,
And peace prevailed.
And in this grateful frame to-night,
With memory's beacon burning bright,
My pen, instinctive turns to write
The prompted line,
And pour upon your friendly sight
This heart of mine.
With memory's beacon burning bright,
My pen, instinctive turns to write
The prompted line,
And pour upon your friendly sight
This heart of mine.
I may not swell your earthly fame,
With measure of a loud acclaim;
Do what I may, it were but tame
To what's been done;
But in my breast, my friend, your name
Stands number one.
With measure of a loud acclaim;
Do what I may, it were but tame
To what's been done;
But in my breast, my friend, your name
Stands number one.
I'll joy the glad accord to hear
That greets you all days o' the year;
Beholding your content and cheer
It adds to mine,
And prompts the heartiness sincere
Of auld lang syne.
That greets you all days o' the year;
153
It adds to mine,
And prompts the heartiness sincere
Of auld lang syne.
Accept, dear Fields, the humble strain
That long upon my mind has lain;
My Muse in your behalf would fain
Much more express,
But trying more (I hence refrain)
Might make it less.
That long upon my mind has lain;
My Muse in your behalf would fain
Much more express,
But trying more (I hence refrain)
Might make it less.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |