Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

While sunbeams on the mountain play,
And fairies haunt the glen,
Romance shall o'er my mind have sway,
And I will to my latest day
Be happiest of men.

The sweet religion of my life,
Which all my thoughts shall sway,
Shall be to shun the envious strife,
To march to tabor and to fife,
And ever to be gay.

The hills of Earth are green and high,
And lift their heads to heaven;
And why with drooping head should I
Sink down into the dust and sigh,
To whom the Earth was given?

190

They're mine! the cheerful poet cried,
Creation's heir am I,—
The hills, the rills that down them glide,
The stars that in the sunshine hide,
The sunshine and the sky;

The apple-blossoms of the spring,
The clusters, of the vine,
The gladsome voice of those who sing,
The joy of every living thing:
And what was his is mine!

Sing, joyous birds! your mirth is mine:
Blow, winds! o'er shore and sea,
And let your visits be a sign
Both sides the great globe-girdling line
That mankind should be free.

Alas! the little birds that sing,
The flowers that bloom so gay
Will in the snow lie withering,
And those will fold their shivering wing
And dumbly pine away!

191

And yet the brave philosophy
Of life is theirs to sing,
And flaunt it in the suns of May,
Ere comes to them the evil day
Which is our second Spring.