 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
46
WINTER AT AMBLESIDE.
Winter in this fair land has many moods;
At times the storms come roaring down the vale,
Across the mountains, through the sounding woods,
Or sweeping up the Ghylls with shudd'ring wail,
Shaking the red-stemmed pines that crown the height,
And stand in graceful forms against the light.
At times the storms come roaring down the vale,
Across the mountains, through the sounding woods,
Or sweeping up the Ghylls with shudd'ring wail,
Shaking the red-stemmed pines that crown the height,
And stand in graceful forms against the light.
Sometimes from stormy skies the rain-cloud breaks,
Swelling the torrents in their rocky bed,
Till streams grow rivers, rivers grow to lakes,
And boats might ply where once the reapers sped,
And the whole air is murm'rous with the sound
Of rushing waters foaming all around.
Swelling the torrents in their rocky bed,
Till streams grow rivers, rivers grow to lakes,
And boats might ply where once the reapers sped,
And the whole air is murm'rous with the sound
Of rushing waters foaming all around.
This noon there is a keenness in the air
Which stirs the blood and makes the pulse beat high,
And the whole scene is most divinely fair,
Lying beneath a pale and steel-blue sky,
Which sheds a softened lustre o'er the plain,
And on the streams, bound each in glittering chain.
Which stirs the blood and makes the pulse beat high,
And the whole scene is most divinely fair,
Lying beneath a pale and steel-blue sky,
Which sheds a softened lustre o'er the plain,
And on the streams, bound each in glittering chain.
47
White is the valley once so brightly green,
White all the mountain-tops that, crown'd with snow,
Glitter with light intensely bright and keen,
When with the dawn the sky is all aglow,
The colour changing as the morning grows,
From grey to purple, purple into rose.
White all the mountain-tops that, crown'd with snow,
Glitter with light intensely bright and keen,
When with the dawn the sky is all aglow,
The colour changing as the morning grows,
From grey to purple, purple into rose.
The trees are stripped, yet are no longer bare,
Feathered with snow they stand up in the light,
All motionless, and not a passing air
Stirs their pure bridal robe of spotless white,
While from each bough clear icicles hang down,
Like flashing diamonds in a monarch's crown.
Feathered with snow they stand up in the light,
All motionless, and not a passing air
Stirs their pure bridal robe of spotless white,
While from each bough clear icicles hang down,
Like flashing diamonds in a monarch's crown.
Through the still air distinctly comes each sound—
Voices of skaters from the frozen lake,
The neigh of horse, and bay of deep-mouth'd hound,
The warble of the red-breast in the brake,
The fall from bending branches of the snow,
The slender noise of streams in fetter'd flow.
Voices of skaters from the frozen lake,
The neigh of horse, and bay of deep-mouth'd hound,
The warble of the red-breast in the brake,
The fall from bending branches of the snow,
The slender noise of streams in fetter'd flow.
Fair are these days, so calm, so still, so bright,
Fair is each glassy lake, each hoary fell,
Fair are the falls that quiver in the light,
Fair is each ice-bound tarn, each rocky dell,
Fairer than all the night, with moon and star,
Shining like crystals in the heavens afar.
Fair is each glassy lake, each hoary fell,
Fair are the falls that quiver in the light,
Fair is each ice-bound tarn, each rocky dell,
Fairer than all the night, with moon and star,
Shining like crystals in the heavens afar.
48
And yet, though fair, the beauty 'tis of death,
The earth is covered with a snowy shroud,
Her requiem chanted by the wind's rude breath,
In tones now low and soft, now deep and loud,
And Nature lies all wan upon her bier,
And clouds shed down the sympathising tear.
The earth is covered with a snowy shroud,
Her requiem chanted by the wind's rude breath,
In tones now low and soft, now deep and loud,
And Nature lies all wan upon her bier,
And clouds shed down the sympathising tear.
Hopeless looks all as when the words are said,
“Ashes to ashes” over those held dear,
And to the earth we give our holy dead,
With throbbings of the heart and many a tear,
And the grave closing o'er the lifeless clay,
We turn with breaking heart to front the day.
“Ashes to ashes” over those held dear,
And to the earth we give our holy dead,
With throbbings of the heart and many a tear,
And the grave closing o'er the lifeless clay,
We turn with breaking heart to front the day.
No snowdrop lifts its bell above the ground,
No song of bird is heard amongst the trees,
No hint of summer in the sky is found,
No scent of spring gives fragrance to the breeze,
No sign of leaf on valley, copse, or hill;
And the whole earth is barren, cold, and still.
No song of bird is heard amongst the trees,
No hint of summer in the sky is found,
No scent of spring gives fragrance to the breeze,
No sign of leaf on valley, copse, or hill;
And the whole earth is barren, cold, and still.
Yet there is hope, though all seems blank and dead;
There is a stirring at the roots of things,
A throbbing quick of life in Earth's deep bed,
A promise as of fair and joyous springs;
And buds there are where blossoms folded lie,
Ready to flower beneath the summer sky.
There is a stirring at the roots of things,
A throbbing quick of life in Earth's deep bed,
A promise as of fair and joyous springs;
And buds there are where blossoms folded lie,
Ready to flower beneath the summer sky.
49
Such hope, as when we seek the grave a-weeping,
And carry there the bare, yet precious seed,
With hearts that wellnigh break for dear ones sleeping,
Yet trusting Him who is “the Life indeed;”
And able by His grace through tears to sing,
“Where is thy victory, grave; where, death, thy sting?”
And carry there the bare, yet precious seed,
With hearts that wellnigh break for dear ones sleeping,
Yet trusting Him who is “the Life indeed;”
And able by His grace through tears to sing,
“Where is thy victory, grave; where, death, thy sting?”
For soon the day shall dawn, and shadows fly,
Winter shall pass and Spring again shall bloom,
Eternal Summer brighten all the sky,
And smile upon a world without a tomb;
Earth's resurrection shall with blessings come,
And songs shall usher in God's harvest-home.
Winter shall pass and Spring again shall bloom,
Eternal Summer brighten all the sky,
And smile upon a world without a tomb;
Earth's resurrection shall with blessings come,
And songs shall usher in God's harvest-home.
Then He that comes to wake His saints shall say,
As round to each dear sleeper's bed He goes
To rouse them with a touch at break of day,
And all His heart with tender love o'erflows,
“The morning breaks, the shadows flee away,
Arise, my love, my dove, and come away!
As round to each dear sleeper's bed He goes
To rouse them with a touch at break of day,
And all His heart with tender love o'erflows,
“The morning breaks, the shadows flee away,
Arise, my love, my dove, and come away!
“Winter is past, the rain is gone and o'er,
The song of birds fills all the happy land,
Flowers appear upon the earth once more,
The turtle-dove is heard on every hand.
It is thy Bridegroom's voice to thee doth say,
‘Arise, my love, my dove, and come away!’”
The song of birds fills all the happy land,
Flowers appear upon the earth once more,
The turtle-dove is heard on every hand.
It is thy Bridegroom's voice to thee doth say,
‘Arise, my love, my dove, and come away!’”
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |