 | The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics |  |
175
LITTLE MABEL'S SONG
INSCRIBED TO MY LITTLE FRIEND—F. G---.
“Spring, Spring, idle Spring!
I have called thee all the day—
Whither art thou wandering,
Idle Spring, I pray?”
I have called thee all the day—
Whither art thou wandering,
Idle Spring, I pray?”
Little Mabel Morrison
Was a simple village child;
You shall hear the song she sang
In her “wood-notes wild.”
Was a simple village child;
You shall hear the song she sang
In her “wood-notes wild.”
Spring, Spring, idle Spring!
I have sought thee everywhere—
In the glen, and on the hill,
Through the meadows, by the rill,—
But thou wert not there.
I have sought for many an hour
For the first wild violet flower,
Through its young leaves peeping;
To the woods I've been to learn
If the pale, sweet lady-fern,
In the brake beside the burn,
Had arisen from sleeping,
Spring, Spring, idle Spring!
Not a trace of anything!
And the birds all feared to sing,
And the trees were weeping.
I've a little bird within
That doth love thee dearly;
Greeting thee with merry din
When thou comest early.
Now, no note of joy hath he—
On his perch so droopingly
He doth sit, sad-hearted,
Deeming that for aye, sweet Spring,
Thou and he are parted.
I have sought thee everywhere—
In the glen, and on the hill,
Through the meadows, by the rill,—
But thou wert not there.
I have sought for many an hour
For the first wild violet flower,
Through its young leaves peeping;
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If the pale, sweet lady-fern,
In the brake beside the burn,
Had arisen from sleeping,
Spring, Spring, idle Spring!
Not a trace of anything!
And the birds all feared to sing,
And the trees were weeping.
I've a little bird within
That doth love thee dearly;
Greeting thee with merry din
When thou comest early.
Now, no note of joy hath he—
On his perch so droopingly
He doth sit, sad-hearted,
Deeming that for aye, sweet Spring,
Thou and he are parted.
I've a little garden too,
Full of flowers, the fairest;
Red, and white, and pied, and blue,
And rich scents the rarest;
And those flowers are waiting now
For thy touch to wake them;
They are waiting, every one,
For the shining of thy sun,
Ere their dreams forsake them.
Oh! dear Spring, sweet Spring, I pray,
Drive those dull dark clouds away,
Let the blue sky cheer us!
Well-a-day, my prayer is vain,
Faster falls the beating rain,
And thou wilt not hear us.
Full of flowers, the fairest;
Red, and white, and pied, and blue,
And rich scents the rarest;
And those flowers are waiting now
For thy touch to wake them;
177
For the shining of thy sun,
Ere their dreams forsake them.
Oh! dear Spring, sweet Spring, I pray,
Drive those dull dark clouds away,
Let the blue sky cheer us!
Well-a-day, my prayer is vain,
Faster falls the beating rain,
And thou wilt not hear us.
Oh! what joy 'twould be to me
To behold thee coming,
With the beetle's drowsy lay,
With the lark's glad roundelay,
And the bee's wild humming.
To behold thee coming,
With the beetle's drowsy lay,
With the lark's glad roundelay,
And the bee's wild humming.
Come then, spring—slow-footed Spring!
I have called thee many a day;
Cease thy truant loitering,
Idle Spring, I pray.
I have called thee many a day;
Cease thy truant loitering,
Idle Spring, I pray.
So sang Mabel Morrison,
In her simple wood-notes wild,
Till the Winter's gloom was past,
Till the sunshine came at last,
And the blue sky smiled.
In her simple wood-notes wild,
Till the Winter's gloom was past,
Till the sunshine came at last,
And the blue sky smiled.
| The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics | |