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195
LINES ON A BOWER.
My bower! in earlier, dearer, happier years,
When hopes like sunbeams glanced—like dew-drops, fears—
I wove for thee a wild and artless strain;
My childhood's bower! to thee I come again:
But come, how changed! no more, alas! no more,
Wearing the fearless smiles that then I wore;
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
When hopes like sunbeams glanced—like dew-drops, fears—
I wove for thee a wild and artless strain;
My childhood's bower! to thee I come again:
But come, how changed! no more, alas! no more,
Wearing the fearless smiles that then I wore;
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
196
Delightedly I sang, thy opening flowers
By sunshine nursed, and sunny-glancing showers;
A wild of flowers my childish heart was then—
Such flowers as shun the beaten paths of men,
And perish long ere life's proud perilous noon,
Ah! blown too early, or struck down too soon.
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
By sunshine nursed, and sunny-glancing showers;
A wild of flowers my childish heart was then—
Such flowers as shun the beaten paths of men,
And perish long ere life's proud perilous noon,
Ah! blown too early, or struck down too soon.
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
The summer and the summer's royal rose—
The glorious woods in their serene repose,
The sweet clear voice of birds—the bees' low hum,
The thousand scents, that on the fresh breeze come,
Do these beguile not as they once beguiled;
Ah, then I smiled and recked not that I smiled:
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
The glorious woods in their serene repose,
The sweet clear voice of birds—the bees' low hum,
The thousand scents, that on the fresh breeze come,
Do these beguile not as they once beguiled;
Ah, then I smiled and recked not that I smiled:
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
197
I come not now as I was wont before,
With Joy's rich tumults in my quick heart's core,
And Hope's wild fervours brightening ev'ry thought;
I bring not back the unclouded mind I brought
In those dear days,—whose haunting memory now
Can but more pain my heart, and chill my brow;
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
With Joy's rich tumults in my quick heart's core,
And Hope's wild fervours brightening ev'ry thought;
I bring not back the unclouded mind I brought
In those dear days,—whose haunting memory now
Can but more pain my heart, and chill my brow;
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
And now to me the birds' triumphant strain,
The flowers, the streams, but bring a sense of pain,
'T is vain, 't is bitter, 't is importunate,
The attested joy of Nature—while stern fate
Lowers with inveterate shadows dim and cold—
Lengthening o'er all, my wearied eyes behold.
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
The flowers, the streams, but bring a sense of pain,
'T is vain, 't is bitter, 't is importunate,
The attested joy of Nature—while stern fate
Lowers with inveterate shadows dim and cold—
Lengthening o'er all, my wearied eyes behold.
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
198
Still, I feel Summer must be beautiful,
('T is but my senses that are chilled and dull;)
With all her living lights, her flushing hues,
Her glistening smiles and rainbow-glancing dews!
And thou art beautiful—in leaf and flower,
Thou whom my mournful heart hath wrong'd, old bower!
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
('T is but my senses that are chilled and dull;)
With all her living lights, her flushing hues,
Her glistening smiles and rainbow-glancing dews!
And thou art beautiful—in leaf and flower,
Thou whom my mournful heart hath wrong'd, old bower!
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
It hath wronged thee, wronged all, itself hath wronged,
With strains that nor befitted, nor belonged
Unto the season and the scene; for still
It cannot choose but feel an answering thrill—
While these rich melodies are pouring round,
And these bright hues are kindling up the ground;
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
With strains that nor befitted, nor belonged
Unto the season and the scene; for still
It cannot choose but feel an answering thrill—
While these rich melodies are pouring round,
And these bright hues are kindling up the ground;
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
199
Some cause there is indeed for thoughtful care,
For spirit-breathings deep of inward prayer—
Voices are hushed, whose precious tones of cheer,
Could even those festal melodies endear;
Footsteps are missing, whose loved echoes yet,
My heart would find it hopeless to forget!
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years can bring to pass!
For spirit-breathings deep of inward prayer—
Voices are hushed, whose precious tones of cheer,
Could even those festal melodies endear;
Footsteps are missing, whose loved echoes yet,
My heart would find it hopeless to forget!
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years can bring to pass!
Ay! they are gone—the lovely, the unforgot—
Whose radiant forms, once lit this blossomy spot,
More beautiful than summer and its rose;
Ay, they are gathered to a long repose—
The splendour of the season cannot come,
To cheer them, nor to light them in their tomb:
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
Whose radiant forms, once lit this blossomy spot,
More beautiful than summer and its rose;
Ay, they are gathered to a long repose—
The splendour of the season cannot come,
To cheer them, nor to light them in their tomb:
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
200
And never more their shrouded eyes shall see
The exultant glory of the flower and tree;
And never more their fettered sense rejoice,
In the dear blessing of a well-known voice—
They have found the gloomy goal they little sought,
Oh, what a heavy change for them is wrought—
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
The exultant glory of the flower and tree;
And never more their fettered sense rejoice,
In the dear blessing of a well-known voice—
They have found the gloomy goal they little sought,
Oh, what a heavy change for them is wrought—
A change, and many a change alas,
A few short years have brought to pass!
And yet, not so! away, dark thought away,—
They are where change shall never more have sway,
E'en in a land of deathless sunshine bright—
Invulnerable unto storm or blight;
They are, where I may meet them heart to heart,
Where no dark hour shall bid the loved ones part;
There change, like breath-stain from a glass,
Shall melt from Life's calm scene, and pass.
They are where change shall never more have sway,
E'en in a land of deathless sunshine bright—
Invulnerable unto storm or blight;
They are, where I may meet them heart to heart,
Where no dark hour shall bid the loved ones part;
There change, like breath-stain from a glass,
Shall melt from Life's calm scene, and pass.
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