Poems (Acton)/The Two Flowers

POEMS

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THE TWO FLOWERS. —— PART FIRST.

There bloomed two lovely flowers
 Ia a sweet and shady dell;
Through the summer's balmy hours
 They had graced its beauty well;
The soft west wind breathed on them,
 In the calm and stilly air;
And the bright sun shone upon them,
 As they grew in beauty there.
Oh! happy were those flowers
 In their home of love and light:
"What a merry life is ours!"
 Was their chorus day and night.
The leaves bent down to watch them
 With a fond and holy care,
Lest some rude-hand might snatch them
 From their home, so bright and fair.
They had known no other dwelling
 Half so sunny as their own,
Ere the spring's glad voice was telling,
 They had blossomed there alone.
Alone! alone! with nought to look
 Upon their kingdom free;
And their graceful stems with triumph shook,
 As they sighed "How blest are we!"

One morn when leaf and flower
 Were beginning to unfold,
And that sweet and tranquil bower
 Seemed bathed in rays of gold;
A sound came stealing o'er them
 Of joyous voices there,
And a party swept before them,
 Of lords and ladies fair.
A moment! and the stately throng
 Have hied them far away,
With laughter as they passed along,
 And tones and gestures gay.
A moment! and the stern old trees
 Were lonely left again,
To shake with anger in the breeze,
 That aught disturbs their reign.
And the two fair flowers looked forth at last,
 In wonder and in dread;
They had hid them 'till the throng had passed,
 In their thick and leafy bed.
But now they watch'd the gallant train,
 As it vanished from their sight,
'Till they longed to see it once again,
 In its glittering beauty bright.
And they thought upon that band so gay,
 'Till they loathed their silent dell:
And they sigh'd to think that they must stay
 In the home once loved so well.
The bright sun cast his rays of gold
 Upon that spot so fair,
But the flowers looked on reserved and cold,
 And wept that they were there.

The evening dews were falling fast,
 And naught had reached their ear,
When they heard a bugle's thrilling blast
 Proclaim the party near.
On! on they came with horse and hound,
 And feathers waving high,
And the greenwood rang to their footstep's sound
 As they swept the forest by.
"Will they depart and leave us here?"
 And the flowers gaz'd forth with dread;
For the stately throng was drawing near,
 But glanced not on their bed.
With snowy plumes and jewels bright,
 And merry laugh and tone,
They have vanished like a beam of light,
 And the flowers are left alone.
No! not alone a lady fair
 Has loitered in the dell,
To gather blossoms for her hair,
 Of the graceful heather bell.
And he who lingers by her side,
 To mark each smile and sigh,
Will call that gentle lady bride,
 Ere the autumn passes by.
They have culled the bells so fresh and sweet,
 When oh! long looked-for chance!
The flowers so fair and blooming meet
 The lady's laughing glance.
And she takes them from their home beneath
 The leaves and dew-drops bright,
To lend their beauty to the wreath
 Which binds her hair that night.
And the flowers! the flowers, oh! what said they,
 To leave their shady bower,
And the quiet glen, to speed away
 To the halls of wealth and power?
They shook their slender stems with glee,
 And they waved their heads with pride,
When they thought that they should ever be
 By that lovely lady's side.
And yet a sad and fond regret
 Came o'er them at the last,
For the home they could not quite forget,
 And the bright and happy past.
For their joyous life so calm and free,
 For the leaves they loved so well,
For the waving grass, and stately tree,
 Which graced the sunny dell—
They have wished to change their tranquil lot:
 They must bear it as they may;
They have looked their last on that sweet spot,
 And the flowers are borne away.

PART THE SECOND.

A strain comes sweeping, soft and clear,
 Of music's measure light,
And steals upon the startled ear
 Of the still and peaceful night.
And the moonbeams, as they softly fall
 The waving trees between
Look in upon a stately hall,
 And a gay and festive scene.
The first and fairest of the land,
 Are gathered smiling there,
But the brightest of the joyous band
 Is that gentle lady fair:
With naught amidst her clust'ring curls,
 Save the flowers in beauty rare.
Oh! lovelier far than gems or pearls,
 Those blooming flowers were.
And well indeed might they be proud
 Of the part they bore that night,
As they moved amidst the festal crowd,
 Upon that lady bright.
As they grace the fair and polished brow
 Of the glittering revel's queen,
They can have naught to sigh for now,
 Beyond that brilliant scene.
And yet! they were not happy quite,
 A feeling new and strange
Passed over them with a chilling blight:
 And again they wished for change.
Again they wished to be away,
 Where they alone were fair;
They had looked on flowers of hues more gay,
 Since they had entered there.
And they thought that in their home serene
 None had seemed fair save them,
And they were to that forest scene
 As a rare and foreign gem.
But here swept by them every hour
 Strange flowers of beauty bright;
They were more prized in their greenwood bower
 Than in those halls of light.
"Twas true that they were still most fair,
 They had not lost their bloom,
But they drooped beneath the perfumed air
 Which filled that gorgeous room.
And they longed to feel the evening breeze
 Steal o'er them, and they sighed
For their slighted home beneath the trees,
 In the stately forest wide.
A still small voice first whispered then,
 That they had happier been
In the leafy shades of the peaceful glen
 Than in that brilliant scene.
And the flowers bent down their heads and wept,
 For their hearts were full of woe,
When they thought how calmly they had slept
 The moon's pale light below.

Dark night is giving place to day,
 The morn begins to break,
And the lovely lady hastes away
 Ere the sun's bright rays awake.
But the flowers that late had graced her brow
 Are thrown neglected by;
Their bloom is past, they are faded now,
 They are left alone to die.
To die uncared for, far away
 From their own sweet forest glen,
What visions of its life so gay,
 Came rushing o'er them then!
"Oh would! oh would that we were there
 In our home of beauty bright,
Near the leaves that watched us with such care,
 And sheltered us each night.
Where the tall trees shaded us all day,
 'Till the sun's fierce heat was o'er,
And we are dying far away;
 They will never see us more."
The flower's words were choked with woe,
 For their hearts were breaking fast,
And their tears in bitter sorrow flow,
 As they mourn their folly past.
As they think that had they ever been
 Contented in their dell,
They might have graced its tranquil scene,
 Where they were loved so well.
"Oh! that we ne'er had from thee fled,"
 In agony they sighed,
And bowing down each drooping head,
 The blighted flowers died!
H. A.