 | The Human Inheritance |  |
168
YOUNG LOVE.
On a flower in a forest,
A lily-bosom'd flower,
(Where never windy tempest
Came, nor ever any shower)—
A golden hour of birthtide,
(The sky was blue, so blue!)
Left me lying 'mid a songtide
Of birds of every hue.
A lily-bosom'd flower,
(Where never windy tempest
Came, nor ever any shower)—
A golden hour of birthtide,
(The sky was blue, so blue!)
Left me lying 'mid a songtide
Of birds of every hue.
Upon the white flower swaying
I laughed and sang in glee,
Till the thrushes long delaying
Sang back deliciously;
And the dear white cloudlets sleeping
Up in the blue, blue sky,
Seem'd downy cherubs peeping
Between the pine boughs high.
I laughed and sang in glee,
Till the thrushes long delaying
Sang back deliciously;
And the dear white cloudlets sleeping
Up in the blue, blue sky,
Seem'd downy cherubs peeping
Between the pine boughs high.
169
A little wind came blowing
And sang a wild-wood song,
It whispered of the flowing
Of bubbling streams along;
I laughed, and stood, and rising
Found I had two small wings—
So then I flew rejoicing
Towards the water-springs.
And sang a wild-wood song,
It whispered of the flowing
Of bubbling streams along;
I laughed, and stood, and rising
Found I had two small wings—
So then I flew rejoicing
Towards the water-springs.
And ever 'mid my flying,
(A little cloud I seem'd!)
I heard a great deep sighing,
As earth in trouble dream'd;
And when I reached the river
The sound more windlike blew:—
The glad stream lisped “for ever,”—
But the sighing grew and grew.
(A little cloud I seem'd!)
I heard a great deep sighing,
As earth in trouble dream'd;
And when I reached the river
The sound more windlike blew:—
The glad stream lisped “for ever,”—
But the sighing grew and grew.
And as I laughed and wonder'd
Among the flow'rs and grass,
All suddenly it thunder'd,
The sunlight seem'd to pass:
A great wind took and blew me
Across a grey wet sand,
And tho' I wept it threw me
Far from the joyous land.
Among the flow'rs and grass,
All suddenly it thunder'd,
The sunlight seem'd to pass:
170
Across a grey wet sand,
And tho' I wept it threw me
Far from the joyous land.
And now the salt waves leaping
Pursue with hungry springs,
And baffled, blind, and weeping,
I beat my draggled wings:
This was the great deep sighing
I heard when I was young—
And now, wind-weary, dying,
My last sob-note is sung!
Pursue with hungry springs,
And baffled, blind, and weeping,
I beat my draggled wings:
This was the great deep sighing
I heard when I was young—
And now, wind-weary, dying,
My last sob-note is sung!
| The Human Inheritance | |