Shifting Scenes and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Well, dear! our little world is hushed and still,
And the great world is far away, as we,
Sitting together, on this tranquil night,
Pause in our talk, and think a little while,
And look into the fire, and see the past
Unfold itself, and all its scrolls flash up
In sudden sparkles of swift thought.

Our boys
Are in their cradles, safe and well; and dreams
Are filling both their baby-hearts and souls.
Our eldest child was with us as we walked
Over the hills, and through the woods to-day,
For the first time;—his little trotting steps
Falling on both our hearts, like music heard
When heads are bowed, and the cathedral chant
Goes up to God on faltering steps of prayer.
Here are the sticks I cut for him; and he,
With the imagination of a child,

Pronounced them tall as trees; and, in his hands,
They towered up lofty as the Alpine pines—
Our little darling Jacky!—Hope and pride
Of both our hearts.

And little Harry, too,
Is lying in his cot—our “two-year old”—
With smiles dimpling his little happy face
Into angelic sweetness:—Bless them both!
“Grandpa” has said “Good-night,” and all is hushed;
You, sitting at your customary work,
Ask for a story. Well, then, take these lines—
The echo of a legend from afar,
A winter dream of southern summer-time,
A medley of the distant—and the near;
The present—and the past; and if you see
The moral that is hidden in the tale,
Then will the tale be dearer for its sake,
Although it is not branded on its front,
Nor made to dance attendance, everywhere—
A lackey to the story through the whole—:
'Tis a love-offering:—Take it then as such!