The Poetical Works of Horace Smith Now First Collected. In Two Volumes |
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THE POET'S WINTER SONG TO HIS WIFE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Horace Smith |  |
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THE POET'S WINTER SONG TO HIS WIFE.
The birds that sang so sweet in the summer skies are fled,
And we trample 'neath our feet leaves that flutter'd o'er our head;
The verdant fields of June wear a winding-sheet of white,
The stream has lost its tune, and the glancing waves their light.
And we trample 'neath our feet leaves that flutter'd o'er our head;
The verdant fields of June wear a winding-sheet of white,
The stream has lost its tune, and the glancing waves their light.
We too, my faithful wife, feel our winter coming on,
And our dreams of early life like the summer birds are gone;
My head is silver'd o'er, while thine eyes their fire have lost,
And thy voice, so sweet of yore, is enchain'd by age's frost.
And our dreams of early life like the summer birds are gone;
My head is silver'd o'er, while thine eyes their fire have lost,
And thy voice, so sweet of yore, is enchain'd by age's frost.
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But the founts that live and shoot through the bosom of the earth,
Still prepare each seed and root to give future flowers their birth;
And we, my dearest Jane, spite of age's wintry blight,
In our bosoms will retain Spring's florescence and delight.
Still prepare each seed and root to give future flowers their birth;
And we, my dearest Jane, spite of age's wintry blight,
In our bosoms will retain Spring's florescence and delight.
The seeds of love and lore that we planted in our youth,
Shall develop more and more their attractiveness and truth;
The springs beneath shall run, though the snows be on our head,
For Love's declining sun shall with Friendship's rays be fed.
Shall develop more and more their attractiveness and truth;
The springs beneath shall run, though the snows be on our head,
For Love's declining sun shall with Friendship's rays be fed.
Thus as happy as when young shall we both grow old, my wife,
On one bough united hung of the fruitful Tree of Life;
May we never disengage through each change of wind and weather,
Till in ripeness of old age we both drop to earth together!
On one bough united hung of the fruitful Tree of Life;
May we never disengage through each change of wind and weather,
Till in ripeness of old age we both drop to earth together!
| The Poetical Works of Horace Smith | |