 | A Lost Epic and Other Poems |  |
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POEMS OF CHILDHOOD.
THE ROBIN.
When ice is black upon the pond,
And woods and ways are choked with snow,
The Robin flutters in!
The little maids with wide glad eyes
Stand spell-bound lest a breath or sign
Should scare him from his crumbs.
And woods and ways are choked with snow,
The Robin flutters in!
The little maids with wide glad eyes
Stand spell-bound lest a breath or sign
Should scare him from his crumbs.
Oft when the fire is keen with frost,
And blinds are drawn and candles lit—
O Robin, flutter in!—
They sit around the cosy hearth,
And hear with wondering love and awe
How Robin's breast grew red.
And blinds are drawn and candles lit—
O Robin, flutter in!—
They sit around the cosy hearth,
And hear with wondering love and awe
How Robin's breast grew red.
Fond little maids! each fancies now
That somewhere in the great white snow—
O Robin, flutter in!—
That somewhere in the tracts of snow,
An icy cross forsaken stands,
And Christ hangs pale and dead!
That somewhere in the great white snow—
O Robin, flutter in!—
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An icy cross forsaken stands,
And Christ hangs pale and dead!
A childish fancy? Be it so!
And let me ever be a child,
With Robins fluttering in,
Than grow into the man who sees
In wintry wastes of unbelief
A phantom Christ and Cross!
And let me ever be a child,
With Robins fluttering in,
Than grow into the man who sees
In wintry wastes of unbelief
A phantom Christ and Cross!
| A Lost Epic and Other Poems | |