 | Le Cahier Jaune |  |
28
IN COWPER'S LETTERS.
Poet of home, green walks and fireside ease,
The trivial joys in which our days are spent,
How cheerfully thy tender merriment
Falls on our ear in such dark hours as these!
When the sick thoughts that did thy spirit freeze
Hover about our mortal tenement,
And unsubstantial fear and vague lament
People the sighing of the restless breeze.
The trivial joys in which our days are spent,
How cheerfully thy tender merriment
Falls on our ear in such dark hours as these!
When the sick thoughts that did thy spirit freeze
Hover about our mortal tenement,
And unsubstantial fear and vague lament
People the sighing of the restless breeze.
Thy hedgerow elms that stand so starved and sere
When winter crusts each twig with crystal rime,
Still break in cloudy greenness, when the year
Wheels into warmth, and 'tis the budding time:
If I grow old and sad, why so didst thou!
Yet love hath crowned the pale world-weary brow.
When winter crusts each twig with crystal rime,
Still break in cloudy greenness, when the year
Wheels into warmth, and 'tis the budding time:
If I grow old and sad, why so didst thou!
Yet love hath crowned the pale world-weary brow.
Eton, 1891.
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