 | New songs of innocence |  |
51
THE PARTING YEAR.
Another year is leaving earth
The richer for its pains:
Of myriad buds that owed it birth
But little trace remains,
Yet in our garden blooms secure
Above the circling snows
A newborn flow'ret white and pure—
A little winter rose!
The richer for its pains:
Of myriad buds that owed it birth
But little trace remains,
Yet in our garden blooms secure
Above the circling snows
A newborn flow'ret white and pure—
A little winter rose!
Two other blossoms grace our tree—
The first, a hope of Spring;
The second, Summer's full and free
And radiant offering.
But Spring and Summer both were fled,
And Autumn winds blew wild,
When this sweet bud upreared its head—
A gentle woman-child!
The first, a hope of Spring;
The second, Summer's full and free
And radiant offering.
But Spring and Summer both were fled,
And Autumn winds blew wild,
When this sweet bud upreared its head—
A gentle woman-child!
My daughter! As upon my knee
In smiling trust she lies,
Without one fear of ills to be
To cloud her clear blue eyes,
My own uncouth forebodings flee
Before that winsome face;
For even earth, to such as she,
May prove a pleasant place!
In smiling trust she lies,
Without one fear of ills to be
To cloud her clear blue eyes,
52
Before that winsome face;
For even earth, to such as she,
May prove a pleasant place!
O little woman! may you grow
As wise as you are fair;
And what you meet of woman's woe
May you have strength to bear!
But wear not weeds of woe by choice,
Nor swell the common moan;
Rather in others' joy rejoice,
And cheer them with your own.
As wise as you are fair;
And what you meet of woman's woe
May you have strength to bear!
But wear not weeds of woe by choice,
Nor swell the common moan;
Rather in others' joy rejoice,
And cheer them with your own.
Envy no man his work, nor ask
To rule by sword or pen;
We women have a nobler task—
The moulding of the men!
And still remember that to be
Is better than to do—
Thus more may bless, as well as we,
The year that gave us you!
To rule by sword or pen;
We women have a nobler task—
The moulding of the men!
And still remember that to be
Is better than to do—
Thus more may bless, as well as we,
The year that gave us you!
| New songs of innocence | |