How oft, with pure delight, have turned to see
Thy beauty felt by all, except by thee;
Thy modest kindness, and thy searching glance;
Thy eager movements, and thy graceful dance ;
And, while I gazed with all a father's pride,
Concealed a joy worth all on earth beside !
How changed the scene! In every favorite walk
I miss thy flying steps, thy artless talk;
Where'er I turn, I feel thee ever near ;
Some frail memorial comes, some image dear. Each spot still breathes of thee, - each gardenflower
Tells of the past, in sunshine or in shower ;
And here the chair, and there the sofa stands,
Pressed by thy form, or polished by thy hands.
My home how full of thee! But where art thou?
Gone, like the sunbeam from the mountain's brow;
But, unlike that, once passed the fated bourn,
Bright beam of heaven, thou never shalt return.
Yet, yet it soothes my heart on thee to dwell ;
Sweet spirit, darling child, farewell! farewell!
THE South wind brings
Life, sunshine, and desire,
And on every mount and meadow
Breathes aromatic fire;
But over the dead he has no power,
The lost, the lost, he cannot restore;
And, looking over the hills, I mourn
The darling who shall not return.
I see my empty house,
I see my trees repair their boughs;
And he, the wondrous child,
Whose silver warble wild
Outvalued every pulsing sound
Within the air's cerulean round,
The hyacinthine boy, for whom
Morn well might break and April bloom,
The gracious boy, who did adorn
The world whereinto he was born,
And by his countenance repay
The favor of the loving day, -
Has disappeared from the day's eye;
Far and wide she cannot find him;
My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him.
Returned this day, the south wind searches,
And finds young pines and budding birches,
But finds not the budding man ;
Nature, who lost him, cannot remake him ;
Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him ;
Nature, Fate, Men, him seek in vain.
And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, O, whither tend thy feet?
I had the right, few days ago,
Thy steps to watch, thy place to know;
How have I forfeited the right ?
Hast thou forgot me in a new delight?
I hearken for thy household cheer,
O eloquent child !
Whose voice, an equal messenger,
Conveyed thy meaning mild.
What though the pains and joys
Whereof it spoke were toys
Fitting his age and ken,
Yet fairest dames and bearded men,
Who heard the sweet request,
So gentle, wise, and grave,
Bended with joy to his behest,
And let the world's affairs go by,
Awhile to share his cordial game,
Or mend his wicker wagon-frame,—
Still plotting how their hungry ear
That winsome voice again might hear;
For his lips could well pronounce
Words that were persuasions.
Gentlest guardians marked serene
His early hope, his liberal mien ;
Took counsel from his guiding eyes
To make this wisdom earthly wise.
Ah! vainly do these eyes recall
The school-march, each day's festival,
When every morn my bosom glowed
To watch the convoy on the road;
The babe in willow wagon closed,
With rolling eyes and face composed;
With children forward and behind,
Like Cupids studiously inclined; .
And he the chieftain paced beside,
The centre of the troop allied,
With sunny face of sweet repose,
To guard the babe from fancied foes.
The little captain innocent
Took the eye with him as he went ;
Each village senior paused to scan
And speak the lovely caravan.
From the window I look out
To mark thy beautiful parade,
Stately marching in cap and coat
To some tune by fairies played;
A music heard by thee alone
To works as noble led thee on.
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