The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
TO THE WILD BROOK. |
| III. |
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
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TO THE WILD BROOK.
Unheeded emblem of the mind!
When weeping twilight's shadows close,
I wander where thy mazes wind,
And watch thy current as it flows:
Now dimpling, silent, calm, and even;
Now brawling, as in anger driv'n;
Now ruffled, foaming, madly wild,
Like the vex'd sense of Sorrow's hopeless child!
When weeping twilight's shadows close,
I wander where thy mazes wind,
And watch thy current as it flows:
Now dimpling, silent, calm, and even;
Now brawling, as in anger driv'n;
Now ruffled, foaming, madly wild,
Like the vex'd sense of Sorrow's hopeless child!
Beside thy surface now I see,
Reflected in thy placid breast,
Flush'd summer's painted progeny,
In smiles and sweets redundant drest:
They flaunt their forms of varying dye,
To greet thee as thou passest by;
And, bending, sip thy ample wave,
And in its lucid lapse their blushing bosoms lave.
Reflected in thy placid breast,
Flush'd summer's painted progeny,
In smiles and sweets redundant drest:
They flaunt their forms of varying dye,
To greet thee as thou passest by;
And, bending, sip thy ample wave,
And in its lucid lapse their blushing bosoms lave.
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While on thy tranquil breast appears
No freezing gale, no passing storm,
The sunbeam's vivid lustre chears,
And seems thy silv'ry bed to warm;
The thronging birds, with am'rous play,
Sweep with their wings thy glitt'ring way;
And o'er thy banks fond zephyr blows,
To dress with sweets the smallest flow'r that grows.
No freezing gale, no passing storm,
The sunbeam's vivid lustre chears,
And seems thy silv'ry bed to warm;
The thronging birds, with am'rous play,
Sweep with their wings thy glitt'ring way;
And o'er thy banks fond zephyr blows,
To dress with sweets the smallest flow'r that grows.
But when destroying blasts arise,
And clouds o'ershade thy with'ring bounds;
When swift the eddying foliage flies,
And loud the ruthless torrent sounds:
Thy dripling charms are seen no more,
Thy minstrel's caroll'd praise is o'er;
While not a flowret, sunny-drest,
Courts the chill'd current of thy alter'd breast.
And clouds o'ershade thy with'ring bounds;
When swift the eddying foliage flies,
And loud the ruthless torrent sounds:
Thy dripling charms are seen no more,
Thy minstrel's caroll'd praise is o'er;
While not a flowret, sunny-drest,
Courts the chill'd current of thy alter'd breast.
Such is the human mind:—serene
When Fortune's glowing hour appears;
And lovely as thy margin green
Are buds of Hope, which Fancy rears:
Then Adulation, like the flow'r,
Bends as it greets us on our way;
But, in the dark and stormy hour,
Leaves us, unmark'd, to trace our troubled way.
When Fortune's glowing hour appears;
And lovely as thy margin green
Are buds of Hope, which Fancy rears:
Then Adulation, like the flow'r,
Bends as it greets us on our way;
But, in the dark and stormy hour,
Leaves us, unmark'd, to trace our troubled way.
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |