miscellaneous poems.
81
And in secret droop o'er the ruined hope,—
Fair child, must thou e'er with such sorrows cope?
Fair child, must thou e'er with such sorrows cope?
Thou must, sweet one! too well I know
That sorrow's the portion of all below.
But we'll heed it not, for full soon, alas I
Will thy joyous moments of pleasure pass.
Then come, let us play in the sunny beam,
And not of the world of sorrow dream.
That sorrow's the portion of all below.
But we'll heed it not, for full soon, alas I
Will thy joyous moments of pleasure pass.
Then come, let us play in the sunny beam,
And not of the world of sorrow dream.
"WINTER, WITH SNOW-FLAKES ON HIS HOARY BROW."
The voice of the Frost-King is on the breeze:
He comes!—wo! wo! for the leafy trees!
They mourn, for his breath is scatt'ring the pride
Of their summer apparel on every side.
The Violet and Columbine both are dead,
And the Cardinal's gone from its marshy bed,—
The Willow is weeping above their tomb,
For the lost ones were fair in their summer bloom.
He comes!—wo! wo! for the leafy trees!
They mourn, for his breath is scatt'ring the pride
Of their summer apparel on every side.
The Violet and Columbine both are dead,
And the Cardinal's gone from its marshy bed,—
The Willow is weeping above their tomb,
For the lost ones were fair in their summer bloom.
