 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE LOCK OF HAIR.
Within my lonely chamber
I sit at daylight's close,
Beneath the stream of radiance
The shaded gaslight throws,
A heap of half-worn letters
Upon the table spread—
Less tokens they than fetters
To bind me to the dead.
And one by one I burn them,
For they revive again
The thoughts of early manhood
At threescore years and ten.
Burnt offerings to oblivion
I make without a tear;
In flame and smoke they vanish—
But stay! what have we here?
An ebon casket olden;
I open it with care
To find a wavy ringlet
Of soft and silvery hair.
I sit at daylight's close,
Beneath the stream of radiance
The shaded gaslight throws,
A heap of half-worn letters
Upon the table spread—
Less tokens they than fetters
To bind me to the dead.
And one by one I burn them,
For they revive again
The thoughts of early manhood
At threescore years and ten.
Burnt offerings to oblivion
I make without a tear;
577
But stay! what have we here?
An ebon casket olden;
I open it with care
To find a wavy ringlet
Of soft and silvery hair.
Ah! long time hidden relic!
This silken lock was hers;
And to its deeps my spirit
With tender feeling stirs,
Back to the days of childhood
My mind returns and brings
A bright and vivid picture
Of long-forgotten things.
I hear the tone of music,
All hearts around that won;
I see the loving glances
That fell upon her son;
I feel the sweet caresses
That gave my heart such joy,
When that dear hair was auburn,
And I was but a boy;
I feel the yearning tender
That followed me for years,
The blessing when we parted
She gave me through her tears.
This silken lock was hers;
And to its deeps my spirit
With tender feeling stirs,
Back to the days of childhood
My mind returns and brings
A bright and vivid picture
Of long-forgotten things.
I hear the tone of music,
All hearts around that won;
I see the loving glances
That fell upon her son;
I feel the sweet caresses
That gave my heart such joy,
When that dear hair was auburn,
And I was but a boy;
I feel the yearning tender
That followed me for years,
The blessing when we parted
She gave me through her tears.
The fond beliefs of childhood,
The earnest faith in dreams,
The nymphs that haunt the wildwood,
The nixes of the streams,
The fairies of the meadows,
The witches lean and grey—
Mere unsubstantial shadows—
All these may pass away,
But though the baseless fancies
Of early days depart,
And with them the romances
That thrilled the childish heart;
Though time, with iron fingers,
All else may check or chill,
One master feeling lingers
Within the bosom still—
Nor age, nor death can smother
That purest love and best
The true man bears the mother
Who nursed him at her breast.
The earnest faith in dreams,
The nymphs that haunt the wildwood,
The nixes of the streams,
The fairies of the meadows,
The witches lean and grey—
578
All these may pass away,
But though the baseless fancies
Of early days depart,
And with them the romances
That thrilled the childish heart;
Though time, with iron fingers,
All else may check or chill,
One master feeling lingers
Within the bosom still—
Nor age, nor death can smother
That purest love and best
The true man bears the mother
Who nursed him at her breast.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |