 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
THEN AND NOW.
Of old I walked glad o'er this beautiful Earth,With an ear that drank in but the sounds of its mirth,
With an eye that perceived but the pleasure and pride
O'er the fair face of Nature spread freely and wide;
With a Soul that but answered each challenge of joy,
Nor dreamt of delusion, nor knew of alloy—
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Nay! I saw not those clouds, blotted out by those rays!
Nor then heeded the sigh of the wind echoing long—
Ah! I heard not the sigh—overborne by the song!
The sweet song of the birds in their freedom and bliss,
But that time was the deepest of contrasts to this!
Now, the Sun may shine out in crowned splendour and pride,
If one faint wreath of cloud be dim-frowning beside—
I mark that—but am blind to the Sun heav'nly bright—
Still I dream of the darkness, nor look for the light!
Now the birds may exult in as brilliant a strain,
If there be a low sound that seems still to complain,
Ev'n the slight shivery breath of the shrill moaning breeze
Dying—dying away 'mongst the unechoing trees,
That sound is the sound that I hear, full and strong,
Since I watch for the wail, and still shrink from the song.
Oh! that sound is the sound that o'er me winneth sway,
For I mind but the moan, and I list not the lay.
Ah! stern is the contrast and sad is the change,
And deep is the difference. and startling and strange
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And must joy and glad hope never shine forth again—
Must I walk o'er this blooming and beautiful Earth,
But to turn from its splendour and turn from its mirth,
And each cloud to detect, and each shadow to trace,
That dwell for a space on its exquisite face?
| Lays of Leisure Hours | |