132
Poems
Wishing to be the bird that upward flies;
He feels the fluttering genius in his soul,
Striving to spread its wings, and break control;
And still the two go hand in hand along
The sunlight way of youth,—with dance,—with song.
He feels the fluttering genius in his soul,
Striving to spread its wings, and break control;
And still the two go hand in hand along
The sunlight way of youth,—with dance,—with song.
The years go by; and to their souls has come,—
Deep as the ocean, airy as its foam,—
LOVE, the magician; and each heart, before
This welcome guest, throws open every door.
They know that he will tarry with them long,
And greet his presence sweet with flowers and song;—
And ever by her side is found the Boy,—
Her pride, her wonder, master, and her joy.
Deep as the ocean, airy as its foam,—
LOVE, the magician; and each heart, before
This welcome guest, throws open every door.
They know that he will tarry with them long,
And greet his presence sweet with flowers and song;—
And ever by her side is found the Boy,—
Her pride, her wonder, master, and her joy.
(You feel it all;—a pulse throbs in each word;
'Tis not a tale, but heart-beats you have heard.
Age sheds his years, and youth's breast thrills to know,
Down to its utmost depths, this wild love's glow.)
'Tis not a tale, but heart-beats you have heard.
Age sheds his years, and youth's breast thrills to know,
Down to its utmost depths, this wild love's glow.)
Then comes a change. His soul has learned to know
The thing it pines for; and he soon shall go
Far, far away from this, his lowly home,
The thing it pines for; and he soon shall go
Far, far away from this, his lowly home,
