 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
277
THE MOUNTAIN STREAM.
A lone old man, I stand again
Within this wild and rocky glen,
And here the mountain stream I ken—
Within this wild and rocky glen,
And here the mountain stream I ken—
The rocks and trees, the beryl rill,
The lilac mist of yonder hill,
The autumn landscape calm and still.
The lilac mist of yonder hill,
The autumn landscape calm and still.
How plainly here my memory sees,
By yonder rock beneath the trees,
Two lovers—I am one of these.
By yonder rock beneath the trees,
Two lovers—I am one of these.
Each of each other seems a part,
And one betrays that bashful art
Which shows the blossoming of the heart.
And one betrays that bashful art
Which shows the blossoming of the heart.
My eyes are filled with happy light;
My tide of joy is at its height;
I am a king who reigns by right.
My tide of joy is at its height;
I am a king who reigns by right.
Through love in her a rapture glows;
Her face the varying feeling shows—
'Tis now a lily, now a rose.
Her face the varying feeling shows—
'Tis now a lily, now a rose.
She stands there, half in shame, half pride,
The cherry-lipped and violet-eyed,
Timidly nestling at my side.
The cherry-lipped and violet-eyed,
Timidly nestling at my side.
At times she pales, as from a thought
That granting me the love I sought
Some evil to us both has wrought.
That granting me the love I sought
Some evil to us both has wrought.
278
We loved; we parted, pledged fore'er,
The joys and woes of life to share;
Truthless the vows that seemed so fair.
The joys and woes of life to share;
Truthless the vows that seemed so fair.
We parted never more to meet,
I to my path with tireless feet;
She to another's kisses sweet.
I to my path with tireless feet;
She to another's kisses sweet.
'Tis idle now the past to seek;
It boots not now of wrong to speak;
But wealth is strong and woman weak.
It boots not now of wrong to speak;
But wealth is strong and woman weak.
She wedded well; her mate was old,
Who let her way be uncontrolled;
Then, dying, left her lands and gold.
Who let her way be uncontrolled;
Then, dying, left her lands and gold.
She lives, a matron, old and grey,
“Respected much,” the people say;
I pass not in the lady's way.
“Respected much,” the people say;
I pass not in the lady's way.
Poor, lonely, childless is my lot,
The arrow of my fate o'ershot:
She has all that which I have not.
The arrow of my fate o'ershot:
She has all that which I have not.
Not as she is I would behold,
But see her as she was of old,
Now years on years have backward rolled.
But see her as she was of old,
Now years on years have backward rolled.
With heart-thrill words can not express,
I hear the rustle of her dress,
I see her wondrous loveliness.
I hear the rustle of her dress,
I see her wondrous loveliness.
And here, to-day, by memory drawn,
The scene returns that long had gone;
It fades; the mountain stream moves on.
The scene returns that long had gone;
It fades; the mountain stream moves on.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |