Wood-notes and Church-bells By the Rev. Richard Wilton |
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ON A POET-NATURALIST
ENTERING HIS SEVENTIETH YEAR. |
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ON A POET-NATURALIST ENTERING HIS SEVENTIETH YEAR.
Are these the tokens of old age? An earQuick to discern each bird-note flitting by,
Or heart of music poised unseen on high
'Twixt the lark's trembling wings? A vision clear
To catch all shades of colour that appear
Mingling and fading in the sunset sky;
Or evanescent forms and tints that fly
With leaves and blossoms through the changeful year?
A soul that grasps the eternal in its ken,
And throbs to what is lovely, good, and true?
A hand that firmly holds the graphic pen
Tipped with light fancies and poetic dew?
Are these old age's symptoms? Then, in sooth,
Such age is happy as immortal youth!
| Wood-notes and Church-bells | |