LEONORA.
53
All the leaves are budding, sure,
All the primroses are springing,
All the birds begin their singing—
'T is your spring-time, Leonora,
May it long endure.
All the primroses are springing,
All the birds begin their singing—
'T is your spring-time, Leonora,
May it long endure.
But it will pass, Leonora:
And the silent days must fall
When a change comes over all:
When the last leaf downward flitters,
And the last, last sunbeam glitters
On the terraced hillside cool,
On the peacocks by the pool:
When you 'll walk along these alleys
With no lightsome foot that dallies
With the violets and the moss,—
But with quiet steps and slow,
And grave eyes that earthward grow,
And a matron-heart inured
To all women have endured,—
Must endure and ever will,
All the joy and all the ill,
All the gain and all the loss—
Can you cheerfully lay down
Careless girlhood's flowery crown,
And thus take up, Leonora,
Womanhood's meek cross?
And the silent days must fall
When a change comes over all:
When the last leaf downward flitters,
And the last, last sunbeam glitters
On the terraced hillside cool,
On the peacocks by the pool:
When you 'll walk along these alleys
With no lightsome foot that dallies
With the violets and the moss,—
But with quiet steps and slow,
And grave eyes that earthward grow,
And a matron-heart inured
To all women have endured,—
Must endure and ever will,
All the joy and all the ill,
All the gain and all the loss—
Can you cheerfully lay down
Careless girlhood's flowery crown,
And thus take up, Leonora,
Womanhood's meek cross?
