 | A Lost Epic and Other Poems |  |
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WAYSIDE VIGNETTES.
A DESERTED GARDEN.
A highroad white with the dust of May;
An old red wall, and an iron gate;
A scent of Spring-time: a blossomy spray,
Thrown over and bowed by the blossom's weight.
An old red wall, and an iron gate;
A scent of Spring-time: a blossomy spray,
Thrown over and bowed by the blossom's weight.
An empty house, and a garden-ground
That no one tended! The flowering trees
Had grown half wild. With a revel of sound
The birds in flocks made merry at ease.
That no one tended! The flowering trees
Had grown half wild. With a revel of sound
The birds in flocks made merry at ease.
The gravelled pathways were blurred with green;
The flower-beds each into other had run;
'Twas all one ferment of colour and sheen,
And scent and song, in the glittering sun.
The flower-beds each into other had run;
'Twas all one ferment of colour and sheen,
And scent and song, in the glittering sun.
And yet the place had a rueful look
For lack of laughter and pattering feet;
The fruit-tree shadowed no maiden's book;
No greybeard dozed on the garden-seat.
For lack of laughter and pattering feet;
The fruit-tree shadowed no maiden's book;
No greybeard dozed on the garden-seat.
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Methought I saw, as I gazed within,
An idyl of youth with its bliss and pain—
The empty house of “what might have been”—
The garden of dreams that were dreamed in vain.
An idyl of youth with its bliss and pain—
The empty house of “what might have been”—
The garden of dreams that were dreamed in vain.
JANUARY AND JUNE.
When snowy eaves are jagged with spar,
And every brook to crystal turns,
The frost that cracks the water-jar
Fills window-panes with flowers and ferns.
And every brook to crystal turns,
The frost that cracks the water-jar
Fills window-panes with flowers and ferns.
When flocks upon the hills are lost,
And snow-wreaths block the carrier's wain,
With silvery flowers and ferns the frost
Fills every misted window-pane.
And snow-wreaths block the carrier's wain,
With silvery flowers and ferns the frost
Fills every misted window-pane.
When cold has stopped the cricket's tune,
And ice-bound clocks forget the hours,
The frost, as though it dreamed of June,
Fills all the panes with ferns and flowers.
And ice-bound clocks forget the hours,
The frost, as though it dreamed of June,
Fills all the panes with ferns and flowers.
When June returns with flowers and ferns
It also dreams,—for rocks are mossed
With furry rime, and, as it turns,
Each willow-leaf seems hoar with frost.
It also dreams,—for rocks are mossed
With furry rime, and, as it turns,
Each willow-leaf seems hoar with frost.
But agrimony in the hedge
Most wintrily recalls the time
When urchins climbed the window-ledge
To thaw the flowers and ferns of rime.
Most wintrily recalls the time
When urchins climbed the window-ledge
To thaw the flowers and ferns of rime.
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BY MOONLIGHT.
Afoot at midnight. All the way
Is warm and sweet with scents of May.
Is warm and sweet with scents of May.
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The cocks are crowing hours too soon,
The dogs are barking far and near,
The frogs are croaking round the mere;
And in a tree the naked Moon
Is crouching down, as though she would
Her silvery-bosomed maidenhood
Conceal among the leaves, too thin
And small to hide her beauty in.
The dogs are barking far and near,
The frogs are croaking round the mere;
And in a tree the naked Moon
Is crouching down, as though she would
Her silvery-bosomed maidenhood
Conceal among the leaves, too thin
And small to hide her beauty in.
Dear Moon, 'tis I, thy friend—who pray
Thy company upon my way.
Thy company upon my way.
| A Lost Epic and Other Poems | |