A Child of the People And Other Poems. By James Chapman Woods |
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 | A Child of the People |  |
157
IV.
It must be strange to her, my heart conceives,—
A maiden in her little sphere of love,
Round whom, like stars, brothers and sisters move
Through the hushed still of settled Summer eves,—
When one, still scarcely known, predestined, weaves
A wily net to snare the nestling dove,
Or lures her forth through the rough world to rove.
Yet for his look her girlhood's home she leaves;—
A maiden in her little sphere of love,
Round whom, like stars, brothers and sisters move
Through the hushed still of settled Summer eves,—
When one, still scarcely known, predestined, weaves
A wily net to snare the nestling dove,
Or lures her forth through the rough world to rove.
Yet for his look her girlhood's home she leaves;—
Leaves to a mist of tears in longing eyes,
While only she can smile and seem content,
Who loseth all, but winneth him she would;
For now her face fastens on fairer skies,
And shadowy orbits in the distance bent,
Where soon fresh stars may ring her womanhood.
While only she can smile and seem content,
Who loseth all, but winneth him she would;
For now her face fastens on fairer skies,
And shadowy orbits in the distance bent,
Where soon fresh stars may ring her womanhood.
| A Child of the People | |