A very child, again beside the brook,
I made my puny hand a cup to dip
Among the sparkling waters, where I took
Its hollow full and brought it to my lip.
And oh! that cooling draught I still can taste,
And feel it in the spirit and the flesh:
"Tis like a fount, that in the desert waste
Leaps out, the weary pilgrim to refresh.
The spice of other days was borne along,
From shrub and forest, on the balmy breeze;
I heard my warbling wild-bird's tender song
Come sweet and thrilling through the rustling
trees.
All was restored, as in the sunny day
When I believed my little rural ground
The centre of the world, whose limits lay
Just where the bright horizon hemm'd it round.
And she-who was my sister then, but now
What she may be the pure immortals know,
Who round the throne of the Eternal bow,
And bathe in glory, veil'd from all below-
Yes, she was there; who, with her riper years,
Once walk'd, the guardian of my infant feet;
Drew from my hand the thorn, wiped off my tears,
And brought fresh flowers to deck our grassy
I saw her cheek with life's warm current flush'd;
Clung to the fingers that I used to hold;
Heard the loved voice that is for ever hush'd,
And felt the form that long ago was cold.
All I have been and known, in all the years
Since I was sporting in that cherish'd spot,
My hopes, my joys, my wishes, and my tears,
As only dreamings, were alike forgot.
"Twas this that made my dream so bless'd and
And me the careless thing that I was then: Yet, Time, I would not now reverse thy flight, And risk the running of my race again.
The fairest joys that struck their roots in earth, I would not rear again to bloom and fade! I've had them once in their ideal worth;
Their height I've measured, and their substance weigh'd.
Nor those who sleep in peace would I awake,
To have their hearts with time's delusions fill'd;
The seal that God has set I would not break,
Nor call the voice to lips that he has still'd.
And yet I love my dream: 'twas very sweet
To be among my native hills again;
Where my light heart was borne by infant feet,
The careless, blissful creature I was then!
Whene'er I think of it, the warm tears roll,
Uncall'd and unforbidden, down my cheek;
But not for joy or sorrow. Oh, my soul,
Thy nature, power, or purpose, who can speak!
THE CHILD ON THE BEACH.
MARY, a beautiful, artless child,
Came down on the beach to me,
Where I sat, and a pensive hour beguiled
By watching the restless sea.
I never had seen her face before,
And mine was to her unknown;
But we each rejoiced on that peaceful shore
The other to meet alone.
Her cheek was the rose's opening bud,
Her brow of an ivory white;
Her eyes were bright, as the stars that stud
The sky of a cloudless night.
To reach my side as she gayly sped,
With the step of a bounding fawn,
The pebbles scarce moved beneath her tread,
Ere the little light foot was gone.
With the love of a holier world than this,
Her innocent heart seem'd warm;
While the glad young spirit look'd out with bliss
From its shrine in her sylph-like form.
Her soul seem'd spreading the scene to span,
That open'd before her view,
And longing for power to look the plan
Of the universe fairly through.
She climb'd and stood on the rocky steep,
Like a bird that would mount and fly
Far over the waves, where the broad, blue deep
Roll'd up to the bending sky.
She placed her lips to the spiral shell,
And breathed through every fold;
She look'd for the depth of its pearly cell,
As a miser would look for gold.
Her small white fingers were spread to toss
The foam, as it reach'd the strand:
She ran them along in the purple moss,
And over the sparkling sand.
The green sea-egg, by its tenant left,
And form'd to an ocean cup,
She held by its sides, of their spears bereft,
To fill, as the waves roll'd up.
But the hour went round, and she knew the space
Her mother's soft word assign'd;
While she seem'd to look with a saddening face On all she must leave behind.
She search'd mid the pebbles, and finding one
Smooth, clear, and of amber dye,
She held it up to the morning sun,
And over her own mild eye.
Then, "Here," said she, "I will give you this,
That you may remember me !"
And she seal'd her gift with a parting kiss,
And fled from beside the sea.
Mary, thy token is by me yet.
To me 'tis a dearer gem
Than ever was brought from the mine, or set
In the loftiest diadem.
It carries me back to the far-off deep,
And places me on the shore,
Where the beauteous child, who bade me keep
Her pebble, I meet once more.
And all that is lovely, pure, and bright,
In a soul that is young, and free
From the stain of guile, and the deadly blight
Of sorrow, I find in thee.
I wonder if ever thy tender heart
In memory meets me there,
Where thy soft, quick sigh, as we had to part,
Was caught by the ocean air.
Bless'd one! over time's rude shore, on thee
May an angel guard attend,
And "
a white stone bearing a new name," be Thy passport when time shall end!
"TWELVE YEARS HAVE FLOWN."
TWELVE years have flown since last I saw
My birthplace and my home of youth:
How oft its scenes would memory draw,
Her tints the pencillings of truth:
Unto that spot 1 come once more,
The dearest life hath ever known;
And still it wears the look it wore,
Although twelve weary years have flown.
Again upon the soil I stand
Where first my infant footsteps stray'd;
Again I view my "father-land,"
And wander through its pleasant shade: I gaze upon the hills, the skies,
The verdant banks with flowers o'ergrown, And while I look with glistening eyes,
Almost forget twelve years are flown.
Twelve years are flown! those words are brief,
Yet in their sound what fancies dwell:
The hours of bliss, the days of grief,
The joys and woes remember'd well:
The hopes that fill'd the youthful breast,
Alas! how many a one o'erthrown!
Deep thoughts, that long have been at rest,
Wake at the words, twelve years have flown!
The past! the past! a saddening thought,
A withering spell is in the sound!
It comes with memories deeply fraught
Of youthful pleasure's giddy round;
Of forms that roved life's sunniest bowers,
The cherish'd few for ever gone:
Of dreams that fill'd life's morning hours, Where are they now? Twelve years have flown!
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