Poems (Acton)/Summer's last Lay
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SUMMER'S LAST LAY.
The wild-bird hath told of the bright Summer's birth;
She hath come, bringing light to each creature of earth:
Her glance hath been seeking in loneliest bowers
Her long-hidden treasures, the Winter-bound flowers,
And her breath hath passed o'er them, renewing their bloom,
And raising them up from their withering tomb.
Children! Earth's children! she comes once again,
Searching round for content, and her search is in vain;
She hath sought but one heart free from anguish and care,
And she finds where dwelt sunshine now bideth despair.
Whence is your sorrow? The world is the same!
There is still hope's bright tide—still the pathway to Fame—
Still the beacon of Faith. Then why bendeth the heart?
Why, amid all its joys, let contentment depart?
Children! why know ye not yet that, alone,
The true heart hath gladness and peace of its own?
Why know ye not yet, 'tis for you to be gay
When the world's tempests rise, when its joys pass away!
'Tis for you, in your path through its deserts, to find
Your clear stream within, in a right-thinking mind!
List to her, there is delight in the smile
So radiant now, so long yearned for erewhile!
When the hand you have stretched has uplifted Despair,
And o'er its dark mantle cast Hope's garment fair;
There is joy in remembrance of Gratitude's tear,
Of the sunlight you gave to the wilderness drear;
Is't for you then to sorrow, when Peace doth but rest
In slumber, awaiting the call to your breast?
Oh! scorn ye its blessing? deride ye its might
To give day to your souls when around ye is night?
List to her!—Summer is passing away,
To cast, o'er a far-distant realm, her bright sway.
(Already the first trace of Autumn is seen;
Ev'n now is his footstep more marked on the green.)
Yet leaves she with sorrow; fain, fain would she mark
The light she could kindle in each bosom dark;
She gladly would yield ye her last parting sigh,
Did ye watch her depart with Hope's glistening eye,
And would ye do this? Though she passeth away
In your Winter-chilled hearts, let the Summer's warmth stay;
Let it melt the iced current of sympathy there,
And the sere things of Earth make ye look on as fair!
Let it aid you, by binding to yours the cold heart,
To make, by your sunshine, its dark clouds depart;
Let it lead you, while basking in bliss of your own,
To feel 'tis not bliss, if you hold it alone.
Oh! thus 'tis to mark Summer pass with a smile;
Tho' each season changed with regretting, erewhile;
'Tis thus to view calmly Time's step speed along,
And listen in peace to bright Summer's last song;
You have gathered her gifts, and have scattered again
Where'er Summer's gifts have been yearned for in vain,
And the blessing upon you is but that bright sun
Which, like Summer-warmth, cheers him whose duty is done.
R. A.
She hath come, bringing light to each creature of earth:
Her glance hath been seeking in loneliest bowers
Her long-hidden treasures, the Winter-bound flowers,
And her breath hath passed o'er them, renewing their bloom,
And raising them up from their withering tomb.
Children! Earth's children! she comes once again,
Searching round for content, and her search is in vain;
She hath sought but one heart free from anguish and care,
And she finds where dwelt sunshine now bideth despair.
Whence is your sorrow? The world is the same!
There is still hope's bright tide—still the pathway to Fame—
Still the beacon of Faith. Then why bendeth the heart?
Why, amid all its joys, let contentment depart?
Children! why know ye not yet that, alone,
The true heart hath gladness and peace of its own?
Why know ye not yet, 'tis for you to be gay
When the world's tempests rise, when its joys pass away!
'Tis for you, in your path through its deserts, to find
Your clear stream within, in a right-thinking mind!
List to her, there is delight in the smile
So radiant now, so long yearned for erewhile!
When the hand you have stretched has uplifted Despair,
And o'er its dark mantle cast Hope's garment fair;
There is joy in remembrance of Gratitude's tear,
Of the sunlight you gave to the wilderness drear;
Is't for you then to sorrow, when Peace doth but rest
In slumber, awaiting the call to your breast?
Oh! scorn ye its blessing? deride ye its might
To give day to your souls when around ye is night?
List to her!—Summer is passing away,
To cast, o'er a far-distant realm, her bright sway.
(Already the first trace of Autumn is seen;
Ev'n now is his footstep more marked on the green.)
Yet leaves she with sorrow; fain, fain would she mark
The light she could kindle in each bosom dark;
She gladly would yield ye her last parting sigh,
Did ye watch her depart with Hope's glistening eye,
And would ye do this? Though she passeth away
In your Winter-chilled hearts, let the Summer's warmth stay;
Let it melt the iced current of sympathy there,
And the sere things of Earth make ye look on as fair!
Let it aid you, by binding to yours the cold heart,
To make, by your sunshine, its dark clouds depart;
Let it lead you, while basking in bliss of your own,
To feel 'tis not bliss, if you hold it alone.
Oh! thus 'tis to mark Summer pass with a smile;
Tho' each season changed with regretting, erewhile;
'Tis thus to view calmly Time's step speed along,
And listen in peace to bright Summer's last song;
You have gathered her gifts, and have scattered again
Where'er Summer's gifts have been yearned for in vain,
And the blessing upon you is but that bright sun
Which, like Summer-warmth, cheers him whose duty is done.
R. A.