 | Poems by William W. Story |  |
226
THE TORRENT.
In wild exuberant joy from thy mountain home
Thou camest in early spring,
Impetuous, breaking along in foam
And gladdening every thing.
Thou camest in early spring,
Impetuous, breaking along in foam
And gladdening every thing.
What fulness of life! what scorn of obstacles!
What pride that young heart filled!
The maiden-hair trembled, and all the purple bells
With joy and fear were thrilled.
What pride that young heart filled!
The maiden-hair trembled, and all the purple bells
With joy and fear were thrilled.
Over the drudging, laboring wheel with a shout
Thou wentest, with streaming hair,
Thy bounty of diamonds scattering all about
On the aspens flickering there.
Thou wentest, with streaming hair,
Thy bounty of diamonds scattering all about
On the aspens flickering there.
227
The maiden smiled as she saw thy sunny flow,
And the youth smiled back in pride,
But the miller gazed at both with an anxious brow
As he shook his head and sighed.
And the youth smiled back in pride,
But the miller gazed at both with an anxious brow
As he shook his head and sighed.
I saw thee later—all shrunken to a thread,
When summer's joy was flown,
Stealing slowly along thy wasted bed,
Fretting at every stone.
When summer's joy was flown,
Stealing slowly along thy wasted bed,
Fretting at every stone.
The leaves of the maiden-hair were crisp and dry,
The purple bells were gone—
Lonely the maiden wept for the days gone by,
And her cheek was shrunk and wan.
The purple bells were gone—
Lonely the maiden wept for the days gone by,
And her cheek was shrunk and wan.
The broken mill-wheel went no longer round—
The miller's grave was there;
Only a bird was singing, whose glad, sweet sound
Brought to the heart despair.
The miller's grave was there;
Only a bird was singing, whose glad, sweet sound
Brought to the heart despair.
| Poems by William W. Story | |