« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
And while amid thy garlands blow
To a Child. Dear child! whom sleep can hardly tame, As live and beautiful as flame, Thou glancest round my graver hours As if thy crown of wild-wood flowers Were not by mortal forehead worn, But on the summer breeze were borne, Or on a mountain streamlet's waves Came glistening down from dreamy caves. With bright round cheek, amid whose glow Delight and wonder come and go; And eyes whose in ward meanings play, Congenial with the light of day; And brow so calm, a home for Thought Before he knows his dwelling wrought; Though wise indeed thou seemest not, Thou brightenest well the wise man's lot.
That shout proclaims the undoubting mind;
The Mother's hope.
In the happy summer time,
Forest chirp, and village chime,
Morn hath touched her golden strings; Earth and Sky their vows have plighted; Life and Light are reunited,
Amid countless carollings;
Though it be a stranger's tone -
For it answereth to his own.
Haunted strains from rivulets,
These, ere long, the ear forgets; But in mine there is a sound Ringing on the whole year round — Heart-deep laughter that I heard Ere my child could speak a word.
In spite of all foreboding fear,
Thus what thou art foreshows to me How greater far thou soon shalt be;
THE MOTHER'S HEART.
Still, round the loved, thy heart found force to bind, And clung, like woodbine shaken in the wind !
Ah! 'twas heard by ear far purer,
Fondlier formed to catch the strain-
Of the deepest share of pain;
Hears with a mysterious sense-
Thrill in her with power intense.
Then Thou, my merry love — bold in thy glee,
Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing, With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free
Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glancing, Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth, Like a young sunbeam to the gladdened earth! Thine was the shout, the song, the burst of joy, Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip re
soundeth; Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy, And the glad heart from which all grief re
boundeth; And many a mirthful jest and mock reply Lurked in the laughter of thy dark-blue eye.
And thine was many an art to win and bless,
The cold and stern to joy and fondness warming; The coaxing smile — the frequent soft caress
The earnest tearful prayer all wrath disarming! Again my heart a new affection found, But thought that love with thee had reached its
At length THOU camest — thou, the last and least, Nick-named “the Emperor” by thy laughing
brothers Because a haughty spirit swelled thy breast, And thou didst seek to rule and sway the
others Mingling with every playful infant wile A mimic majesty that made us smile.
The Mother's heart.
My eldest born, first hope, and dearest treasure, My heart received thee with a joy beyond
All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure;
And natural piety that leaned to heaven;
Yet patient to rebuke when justly given – Obedient - easy to be reconciled And meekly cheerful; such wert thou, my child ! Not willing to be left — still by my side, Haunting my walks, while summer-day was dy
ing; Nor leaving in thy turn, but pleased to glide
Through the dark room where I was sadly lying; Or by the couch of pain, a sitter meek, Watch the dim eye, and kiss the fevered cheek. O boy! of such as thou are oftenest made
Earth's fragile idols; like a tender flower, No strength in all thy freshness, prone to fade,
And bending weakly to the thunder-shower;
And oh! most like a regal child wert thou !
An eye of resolute and successful scheming ! Fair shoulders, curling lips, and dauntless brow,
Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dreaming; And proud the lifting of thy stately head, And the firm bearing of thy conscious tread. Different from both! yet each succeeding claim
I, that all other love had been forswearing,
Nor injured either by this love's comparing,
Oh mother's love is glorifying,
The Pet Lamb. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice; it said, “ Drink, pretty creature,
drink!" And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain-lamb with a maiden at its
Nor sheep nor kine were near; the lamb was all
alone, And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; With one knee on the grass did the little maiden
kneel, While to that mountain-lamb she gave its evening
He sang so wildly, did the boy,
The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper
took, Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail
with pleasure shook. “ Drink, pretty creature, drink!” she said, in such
a tone That I almost received her heart into my own.
'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty
rare! I watched them with delight : they were a lovely
pair. Now with her empty can the maiden turned
away ; But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she
stay. Right towards the lamb she looked ; and from a
shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her
face. If nature to her tongue could measured numbers
bring, Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might
What ails thee, young one i what? Why pull so “ Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they at thy cord 1
are now; Is it not well with thee well both for bed and Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the board ?
plough. Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be ; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth cold, thee 1
Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy
fold. “What is it thou wouldst seek 9 What is wanting to thy heart 1
" It will not, will not rest !- Poor creature, can Thy limbs, are they not strong! And beautiful it be thou art.
That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have thee no peers;
Things that I know not of belike to thee are And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears! dear,
And dreams of things which thou canst neither see “If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy
nor hear. woollen chain — This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst
“Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and gain;
fair! For rain and mountain-storms — the like thou I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come need'st not fear;
there; The rain and storin are things that scarcely can The little brooks, that seem all pastime and all come here.
play, “ Rest, little young one, rest ; thou hast forgot the When they are angry roar like lions for their prey.
day When my father found thee first in places far" Here thou need’st not dread the raven in the
sky; away; Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned Night and day thou art safe -- our cottage is hard
by. by none, And thy mother from thy side for evermore was
Why bleat so after me Why pull so at thy chain |
Sleep - and at break of day I will come to thee gone.
again!" “ He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:
- As homeward through the lane I went with lazy A blessed day for thee! Then whither wouldst feet, thou roam 1
This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat ; A faithful nurse thou hast - the dam that did thee And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by yean
line, Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could have That but half of it was hers, and one-half of it was been.
mine. “Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought Again and once again, did I. repeat the song: thee in this can
“Nay,” said I,“ more than half to the damsel must Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; belong, And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with For she looked with such a look, and she spake dew,
with such a tone, I bring thee draughts of milk – warm milk it is, That I almost received her heart into my own." and new.
Along with that uprising dew
To me, as Time:
Forestalls its prime.
So may'st thou live, dear! many years,
Too strictly kept.
The Shepherd Bon.
Of far other time,
In the young world's prime,
O lonely shepherd boy: What song art thou singing,
In thy youth and joy
Of thy lowly lot,
Dost ask what thou hast not 1 of the future dreaming,
Weary of the past,
All but what thou hast.
In thy summer home; Where the flowers inviting
Tempt the bee to roam;
With its golden bells,
With a sweet chime tells.
When he is alone; Every bird above him
Sings its softest tone. Thankful to high Heaven,
Humble in thy joy, Much to thee is given, Lowly shepherd boy.
LÆTITIA ELIZABETH LANDON.
Little Boy Blue. When the corn-fields and meadows
Are pearled with the dew,
Walks little Boy Blue.
Still gleam on his eyes,
Look down from the skies ;
Of life within life,
In musical strife;
In flowers and in trees,
In sunlight and breeze; A striving and soaring,
A gladness and grace, Make him kneel half-adoring
The God in the place. Then amid the live shadows
Or lambs at their play, Where the kine scent the meadows
With breath like the May,
To my Waughter.
The landscape smiled;
* Thou hast a child !”