 | Beads from a Rosary |  |
40
SUMMER'S ADVENT.
Summer, the wanton nymph, lay hidden deep
In her wood-secrecies, and laughed the while
The heavy rains came plashing to the earth,
And all the sky seemed robed for funerals.
She looked forth and laughed, because no trace
Of the rich gladness of that jocund time
Lit up the gloom of her deserted realm;
'Twas barren all—but on her ear there fell
A low, half-muffled, melancholy moan,
As of the imprisoned spirits of the flowers,
That might not pour their lives out in the sun,
So doomed to die in darkness;—merrily
Woke the rich sparkles in her half shut eyes,—
Till thoughts of pity came, and drove them thence:
Then pensive sat she hearkening, hour by hour,
To nature's ceaseless wail, the plaintive voice
Of birds, and streams, and winds, and weeping trees.
In her wood-secrecies, and laughed the while
The heavy rains came plashing to the earth,
And all the sky seemed robed for funerals.
She looked forth and laughed, because no trace
Of the rich gladness of that jocund time
Lit up the gloom of her deserted realm;
'Twas barren all—but on her ear there fell
A low, half-muffled, melancholy moan,
As of the imprisoned spirits of the flowers,
That might not pour their lives out in the sun,
So doomed to die in darkness;—merrily
Woke the rich sparkles in her half shut eyes,—
Till thoughts of pity came, and drove them thence:
41
To nature's ceaseless wail, the plaintive voice
Of birds, and streams, and winds, and weeping trees.
On a sudden, by some antic impulse stirred,
Or by the workings of a new remorse,
Forth from her lair she sprung, and tripping out
From 'neath the shadowy boskage of the wood,
Thrice shouted with a clear, sweet, silvery shout,
Which all the winds took up, and bore aloft,
On joy-plumed pinions, to the lowering heaven.
Anon, the murky clouds 'gan roll asunder,
Like baffled legions from a stricken field;
The winds pursued them, howling savagely
In their swift track, below th' horizon's verge,
And ere the day had reached its golden prime,
No lingering vapour dimmed the blue expanse,
And the warm sunlight slept upon the earth.
Or by the workings of a new remorse,
Forth from her lair she sprung, and tripping out
From 'neath the shadowy boskage of the wood,
Thrice shouted with a clear, sweet, silvery shout,
Which all the winds took up, and bore aloft,
On joy-plumed pinions, to the lowering heaven.
Anon, the murky clouds 'gan roll asunder,
Like baffled legions from a stricken field;
The winds pursued them, howling savagely
In their swift track, below th' horizon's verge,
And ere the day had reached its golden prime,
No lingering vapour dimmed the blue expanse,
And the warm sunlight slept upon the earth.
Oh radiant change! pale nature ceased her groaning—
Along the strings of her neglected lyre,
A fitful music ran, which grew ere long
More widely resonant, till deep and full,
The flood of harmony o'erflowed the world.
The flowers peeped out, the tears upon their face,
But the rich perfume streaming from their hearts;
And soon, the bee came, buzzing as of old,
And clung to them with kisses that weighed down
Their light bells to the earth; the butterfly,
Itself a blossom of the sunny air,
On rapid wing flew past, and from afar,
The cuckoo's note, monotonous, but fraught
With a most pleasant meaning, evermore
Proclaimed the advent of a happier time.
Along the strings of her neglected lyre,
42
More widely resonant, till deep and full,
The flood of harmony o'erflowed the world.
The flowers peeped out, the tears upon their face,
But the rich perfume streaming from their hearts;
And soon, the bee came, buzzing as of old,
And clung to them with kisses that weighed down
Their light bells to the earth; the butterfly,
Itself a blossom of the sunny air,
On rapid wing flew past, and from afar,
The cuckoo's note, monotonous, but fraught
With a most pleasant meaning, evermore
Proclaimed the advent of a happier time.
So Summer, in the green heart of the land,
Stood up, and wore her crown.
Stood up, and wore her crown.
| Beads from a Rosary | |