 | The Cup of Quietness |  |
12
TO MY LITTLE DAUGHTER
Sweet blossom, to my soul more dear
Than snowdrop to the darkened heart
Of winter; though with graver cheer
And weightier load,
Now that the rainbow dreams of youth depart,
I take the road
Than snowdrop to the darkened heart
Of winter; though with graver cheer
And weightier load,
Now that the rainbow dreams of youth depart,
I take the road
Which leads to that obscure defile
Where all ways meet, thou, little maid,
Dost all unconsciously beguile
The tedious way
With laughter, and my heavy toil dost aid
With thy light play.
Where all ways meet, thou, little maid,
Dost all unconsciously beguile
The tedious way
With laughter, and my heavy toil dost aid
With thy light play.
My purest joy, my tenderest care
And solace; ere God's deep designs
Revealed thee, dreams of flowing hair
And sunny eyes
And wild-rose cheeks, a music of soft lines,
Whose harmonies
And solace; ere God's deep designs
Revealed thee, dreams of flowing hair
And sunny eyes
And wild-rose cheeks, a music of soft lines,
Whose harmonies
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Should utter all the grace of life,
Made hunger in my soul; but now
Wonder and worship are at strife;
The Maker's scheme
Outshines my brightest vision; darling, thou
Hast shamed my dream.
Made hunger in my soul; but now
Wonder and worship are at strife;
The Maker's scheme
Outshines my brightest vision; darling, thou
Hast shamed my dream.
I grudge the sorry years wherein
I had thee not; my breathless love,
In full pursuit, can scarcely win
The fleeting charms
Each day puts forth; so I would keep my dove
Caged in my arms.
I had thee not; my breathless love,
In full pursuit, can scarcely win
The fleeting charms
Each day puts forth; so I would keep my dove
Caged in my arms.
O linger in the fairyland
Of childhood; all too soon 'twill fade;
Too soon illusion's magic wand
Will break; too soon
The dayspring's fresh enchantment, little maid,
Will be high noon;
Of childhood; all too soon 'twill fade;
Too soon illusion's magic wand
Will break; too soon
The dayspring's fresh enchantment, little maid,
Will be high noon;
Too readily thou wilt unlearn
Thy lawless babble for the rule
Of our harsh speech, wilt feel time's stern
Old hand repress
Thy overweening innocence, and school
Each sweet excess.
Thy lawless babble for the rule
Of our harsh speech, wilt feel time's stern
Old hand repress
Thy overweening innocence, and school
Each sweet excess.
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Yet would I not my bird's young wing
Should stay its flight; thou canst but change
From charm to charm, from childhood's Spring
To girlhood's May;
And I would learn thy beauty's utmost range;
I only pray
Should stay its flight; thou canst but change
From charm to charm, from childhood's Spring
To girlhood's May;
And I would learn thy beauty's utmost range;
I only pray
That I may live to see thee wear
The rose of perfect womanhood;
But lest wise Heaven deny my prayer,
And I must go
Before thy beauty's bud unfold, I would
That thou shouldst know,
The rose of perfect womanhood;
But lest wise Heaven deny my prayer,
And I must go
Before thy beauty's bud unfold, I would
That thou shouldst know,
In years to come, the watchful love
I longed to give thee; so I twine
This wreath, on some bright day to prove
Haply a pride,
In some dark hour a solace; sweet, 'tis thine,
Whate'er betide.
I longed to give thee; so I twine
This wreath, on some bright day to prove
Haply a pride,
In some dark hour a solace; sweet, 'tis thine,
Whate'er betide.
What though the long-deserted muse
Be jealous that for thee my lyre
Awakes, who art the dear excuse
For many a dream
Neglected?—Could the Muse herself desire
A happier theme?
Be jealous that for thee my lyre
Awakes, who art the dear excuse
For many a dream
Neglected?—Could the Muse herself desire
A happier theme?
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And though thy wilful fancy preys
On my scant leisure, thou art more
Than poesy; thy sinless days
Breathe more than song;
To miss one lesson of the heavenly lore
Were grievous wrong.
On my scant leisure, thou art more
Than poesy; thy sinless days
Breathe more than song;
To miss one lesson of the heavenly lore
Were grievous wrong.
Thou still hast taught me, since the dawn
Of that May morning, when I stood
Joy-stricken on the dew-drenched lawn,
While all around
The great bird-chorus gathered to a flood
Of rapturous sound;
Of that May morning, when I stood
Joy-stricken on the dew-drenched lawn,
While all around
The great bird-chorus gathered to a flood
Of rapturous sound;
And mingled my full heart with theirs,
And, as the sun rose, sought again
The cradled answer to my prayers,
And met those eyes
Untroubled yet by joy, undimmed by pain,
So calm, so wise.
And, as the sun rose, sought again
The cradled answer to my prayers,
And met those eyes
Untroubled yet by joy, undimmed by pain,
So calm, so wise.
Since that strange sunrise, summers three;
Already 'mid thy smiles there hide
Some pretty tricks of coquetry;
Already gleams
The coming glory of thy maiden pride;
Soon will thy dreams
Already 'mid thy smiles there hide
Some pretty tricks of coquetry;
Already gleams
The coming glory of thy maiden pride;
Soon will thy dreams
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Be moonlit with romance, the gold
Of thy young head be stained with brown;
Life's inmost petals will unfold,
Till, made aware
Of all thyself, thou 'lt find that beauty's crown
Has many a care.
Of thy young head be stained with brown;
Life's inmost petals will unfold,
Till, made aware
Of all thyself, thou 'lt find that beauty's crown
Has many a care.
Yes; in that perilous Spring-time
Tremble to think what queenly power
Thou hast in trust; so use thy prime
That love's pursuit
May prove a sacred quest; then shall life's flower
Yield noble fruit.
Tremble to think what queenly power
Thou hast in trust; so use thy prime
That love's pursuit
May prove a sacred quest; then shall life's flower
Yield noble fruit.
A traitress she to beauty's throne,
Whose pride it is to see hearts torn
With honest anguish, whilst her own
Beats false and cold.
The vulgar tinsel may'st thou ever scorn,
And prize the gold.
Whose pride it is to see hearts torn
With honest anguish, whilst her own
Beats false and cold.
The vulgar tinsel may'st thou ever scorn,
And prize the gold.
May Spring's first flush, the lark's first song
Make wine of thy young blood; the moon
Becalmed o'er autumn woods, the long
Slow thunder-roll
Of ocean, the heart-hush of summer noon
Enchant thy soul;
Make wine of thy young blood; the moon
Becalmed o'er autumn woods, the long
Slow thunder-roll
Of ocean, the heart-hush of summer noon
Enchant thy soul;
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May sunrise be a festival,
Sunset a prayer; the peaceful breast
Of thy fair motherland enthrall
Thy wakening sense;
May it be thine to seek and hold the best
With love intense.
Sunset a prayer; the peaceful breast
Of thy fair motherland enthrall
Thy wakening sense;
May it be thine to seek and hold the best
With love intense.
May flowers be thy familiar friends,
The birds thy gossips, brook and breeze
Thy playmates; Nature best defends
From sordid cares,
Puts guile and vanity to shame, and frees
From worldly snares.
The birds thy gossips, brook and breeze
Thy playmates; Nature best defends
From sordid cares,
Puts guile and vanity to shame, and frees
From worldly snares.
This crowning grace may Heaven bestow—
An eager hand, a ready tear,
For others' need, for others' woe;
So shalt thou move
Encircled with a radiant atmosphere
Of joy and love.
An eager hand, a ready tear,
For others' need, for others' woe;
So shalt thou move
Encircled with a radiant atmosphere
Of joy and love.
| The Cup of Quietness | |