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LINES WRITTEN TO BEGUILE AN IDLE HOUR.
How fondly memory loves to nurse
The happy scenes of bygone years;
When childhood drank the cup of life,
Before 'twas dash'd with care and tears;
The happy scenes of bygone years;
When childhood drank the cup of life,
Before 'twas dash'd with care and tears;
When infancy, just thrown away,
Left me a wild and sportive girl,
With glowing cheek and thoughtless brow,
Half hid 'neath many a shaggy curl;
Left me a wild and sportive girl,
With glowing cheek and thoughtless brow,
Half hid 'neath many a shaggy curl;
When time flew on with rainbow wings,
Flinging a radiance round the hours
When peeping daisies seem more bright
Than Italy's Arcadian flowers.
Flinging a radiance round the hours
When peeping daisies seem more bright
Than Italy's Arcadian flowers.
Methinks I see the old oak tree,
That stands alone upon the hill,
Whose acorns, strung beneath its shade,
Keep place among my treasures still.
That stands alone upon the hill,
Whose acorns, strung beneath its shade,
Keep place among my treasures still.
Methinks I see my tiny boat,
With silken pennon, long and gay,
Now drifting on the weedy bank,—
Now deluged in the cascade's spray.
With silken pennon, long and gay,
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Now deluged in the cascade's spray.
How fearless then my footstep trod
The plank that spann'd the torrent's flow;
As light and active in my spring
As playful greyhound on the snow.
The plank that spann'd the torrent's flow;
As light and active in my spring
As playful greyhound on the snow.
How oft I rambled through the wood,
Or paced along the new turn'd furrow;
How pleased I urged my yelping dog
To start the rabbit from its burrow.
Or paced along the new turn'd furrow;
How pleased I urged my yelping dog
To start the rabbit from its burrow.
The tangled copses round about
Appear'd familiar with my tread;
The glitt'ring adder linger'd still;
The chirping linnet scarcely fled.
Appear'd familiar with my tread;
The glitt'ring adder linger'd still;
The chirping linnet scarcely fled.
Oh! those were happy, laughing days;
Such that I never thought would leave
A pensive shadow in my breast,
Or give my heart a cause to grieve.
Such that I never thought would leave
A pensive shadow in my breast,
Or give my heart a cause to grieve.
To grieve that those who used to be
My fondest, truest playmates then,
Should sadly change, since mingled with
The world, its manners, and its men.
My fondest, truest playmates then,
Should sadly change, since mingled with
The world, its manners, and its men.
To think I cannot meet a hand
So warm as those I press'd in youth;
To find the friendship proffer'd now
Has more of treachery than truth.
So warm as those I press'd in youth;
To find the friendship proffer'd now
Has more of treachery than truth.
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To know that then in innocence
I breathed the prayer and bent my knee;
Laying my heart where altars blaze
With mercy's incense, pure and free.
I breathed the prayer and bent my knee;
Laying my heart where altars blaze
With mercy's incense, pure and free.
And now to turn with blushing shame,
And find a guilty stain within,
Which darkly tells how much that heart
Hath learnt of folly and of sin.
And find a guilty stain within,
Which darkly tells how much that heart
Hath learnt of folly and of sin.
Oh! there's a feeling undefined,
Which no philosophy can smother—
There is one string more finely tuned
Within my breast than any other.
Which no philosophy can smother—
There is one string more finely tuned
Within my breast than any other.
'Tis that which rises keenly mute;
'Tis that which memory plays upon
When, lurking near some former haunt,
I muse, companionless, alone.
'Tis that which memory plays upon
When, lurking near some former haunt,
I muse, companionless, alone.
There seems a halo round the spot,
A mystic spell of joy and sorrow;
A pensive luxury of thought,
The soul from nowhere else can borrow.
A mystic spell of joy and sorrow;
A pensive luxury of thought,
The soul from nowhere else can borrow.
But hold, my pen, thou'rt growing tired
Of this dull, moralizing strain;
I'll lay thee down, but still must wish
That I could be a child again.
Of this dull, moralizing strain;
I'll lay thee down, but still must wish
That I could be a child again.
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