 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
91
‘BORNE ON LIGHT WINGS OF BUOYANT DOWN’
“Nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna.”
Horace.
Borne on light wings of buoyant down,
Mounts the hoar thistle-beard aloft;
An air scarce felt can bear it on,
A touch propel, tho' e'er so soft:
Dislodg'd from yonder thistle's head,
Upon the passing gale it fled.
Mounts the hoar thistle-beard aloft;
An air scarce felt can bear it on,
A touch propel, tho' e'er so soft:
Dislodg'd from yonder thistle's head,
Upon the passing gale it fled.
See! to each object on its way
A faithless moment it adheres;
But if one breeze upon it play,
Breaks its slight bonds and disappears:
Its silken sail each zephyr catches,
A breath its airy hold detaches.
A faithless moment it adheres;
But if one breeze upon it play,
Breaks its slight bonds and disappears:
Its silken sail each zephyr catches,
A breath its airy hold detaches.
The man who wins thy love awhile,
Should never dream it will remain;
For one fond word, one courteous smile,
Will set thy heart afloat again.
But he whose eye the light can chase,
That sports above the trembling vase,
Should never dream it will remain;
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Will set thy heart afloat again.
But he whose eye the light can chase,
That sports above the trembling vase,
Attend its roving sheen, pursue
Its rapid movements here and there,
And with a firm unwavering view
Arrest the fleeting phantom fair,
May fix inconstancy—ensure
Thy love, thy fickle faith secure!
Its rapid movements here and there,
And with a firm unwavering view
Arrest the fleeting phantom fair,
May fix inconstancy—ensure
Thy love, thy fickle faith secure!
How many have—for many ask—
The kiss I fondly deem'd my own!
And hundreds in succession bask
In eye-beams due to me alone:
Tho' all, like me, in turn must prove
The wandering nature of thy love.
The kiss I fondly deem'd my own!
And hundreds in succession bask
In eye-beams due to me alone:
Tho' all, like me, in turn must prove
The wandering nature of thy love.
Thou saw'st the glow-worm on our way,
Last eve, with mellow lustre shine—
Clad in pellucid flame she lay,
And glimmer'd in her amber shrine—
Would that those eyes of heavenly blue
Were half as faithful and as true!
Last eve, with mellow lustre shine—
Clad in pellucid flame she lay,
And glimmer'd in her amber shrine—
Would that those eyes of heavenly blue
Were half as faithful and as true!
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And lo! the blush, quick mantling, breaks
In rich suffusion o'er thy cheek;
In sudden vermeil Conscience speaks,
No further, fuller proof I seek:
The rosy herald there was sent,
To bid thee own it and repent.
In rich suffusion o'er thy cheek;
In sudden vermeil Conscience speaks,
No further, fuller proof I seek:
The rosy herald there was sent,
To bid thee own it and repent.
C. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |