 | Letters of Laura D'Auverne |  |
123
THE CHERRY TREE.
“Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”
When the dew-drop glitters clear,
In the golden atmosphere,
Glad and gay
The blossoms play,
While the spring birds carol near.
In the golden atmosphere,
Glad and gay
The blossoms play,
While the spring birds carol near.
And the young tree, bending low,
Whiter seems than silver bow;
Or the skies,
When moonlight lies
In the south, like piles of snow.
Whiter seems than silver bow;
Or the skies,
When moonlight lies
In the south, like piles of snow.
But these beauties of the trees,
Yet untouch'd by blight or breeze,
Soon must fade,
And be decayed:
Youth leaves all things by degrees.
Yet untouch'd by blight or breeze,
Soon must fade,
And be decayed:
Youth leaves all things by degrees.
124
Time sweeps on 'mid smiles or gloom
Early fruitage follows bloom,
Gleaming bright
With ruby light,
And dancing 'mid the air's perfume!
Early fruitage follows bloom,
Gleaming bright
With ruby light,
And dancing 'mid the air's perfume!
Yet, when unto sweetness grown,
All must fall, and be o'erthrown:
Left no more
Of beauty's store,
Than the poor dry stalk and stone!
All must fall, and be o'erthrown:
Left no more
Of beauty's store,
Than the poor dry stalk and stone!
Thus hath Man as brief a boon,—
A little summer,—passing soon,—
And then the stone,—
The churchyard lone,
And ghosts that glide beneath the moon!
A little summer,—passing soon,—
And then the stone,—
The churchyard lone,
And ghosts that glide beneath the moon!
| Letters of Laura D'Auverne | |