 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
282
PAST AND PRESENT.
I Saw a little merry maiden,
With laughing eye and sunny hair,
And foot as free as mountain fairy,
And heart and spirit light as air.
With laughing eye and sunny hair,
And foot as free as mountain fairy,
And heart and spirit light as air.
And hand and fancy active ever,
Devising, doing, striving still,
Defeated oft, despairing never,
Up springing strong in heart and will.
Devising, doing, striving still,
Defeated oft, despairing never,
Up springing strong in heart and will.
I saw her bounding in her gladness
On a wild heath at dewy morn,
Weaving a glistening wild-rose garland
With clusters from the scented thorn.
On a wild heath at dewy morn,
Weaving a glistening wild-rose garland
With clusters from the scented thorn.
I saw her singing at her needle,
And quick and well the work went on,
Till song and fingers stopt together,
Not for sad thought of fair days gone,
And quick and well the work went on,
Till song and fingers stopt together,
Not for sad thought of fair days gone,
But that of fairer still, a vision
Rose to the happy creature's sight;
And to a fairy world of fancy
The mind was gone, more swift than light.
Rose to the happy creature's sight;
And to a fairy world of fancy
The mind was gone, more swift than light.
I saw her smiling in her slumber,
The happy day-dream not gone by;
I saw her weep—but bosom sunshine
Broke out before the tear was dry.
The happy day-dream not gone by;
I saw her weep—but bosom sunshine
Broke out before the tear was dry.
283
I saw her “troops of friends” encircling,
Read kind goodwill in many a face,
With a bright glance that seemed exulting:
O happy world! O pleasant place!
Read kind goodwill in many a face,
With a bright glance that seemed exulting:
O happy world! O pleasant place!
I saw a drooping dark-browed woman,
With sunken cheek and silvered hair;
The widow's veil more deeply shading
A shaded brow, the brow of care.
With sunken cheek and silvered hair;
The widow's veil more deeply shading
A shaded brow, the brow of care.
I saw her wandering in her loneness,
Among the tombs at eventide,
When autumn winds with hollow murmur
Among funereal branches sighed.
Among the tombs at eventide,
When autumn winds with hollow murmur
Among funereal branches sighed.
I saw the sere leaves falling round her,
Where o'er the dead those dark boughs wave.
I heard a voice—I caught a murmur—
“O weary world! O peaceful grave!”
Where o'er the dead those dark boughs wave.
I heard a voice—I caught a murmur—
“O weary world! O peaceful grave!”
I thought upon that merry maiden—
I looked upon that woman lone:
That form so buoyant, this so drooping,
O Time! O change!—were one—my own.
I looked upon that woman lone:
That form so buoyant, this so drooping,
O Time! O change!—were one—my own.
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |