| |
| A BEAUTIFUL and happy girl, | |
| With step as light as summer air, | |
| Eyes glad with smiles, and brow of pearl, | |
| Shadow’d by many a careless curl | |
| Of unconfined and flowing hair; | 5 |
| A seeming child in everything, | |
| Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms, | |
| As Nature wears the smile of Spring | |
| When sinking into Summer’s arms. | |
| |
| A mind rejoicing in the light | 10 |
| Which melted through its graceful bower, | |
| Leaf after leaf, dew-moist and bright, | |
| And stainless in its holy white, | |
| Unfolding like a morning flower: | |
| A heart, which, like a fine-toned lute, | 15 |
| With every breath of feeling woke, | |
| And, even when the tongue was mute, | |
| From eye and lip in music spoke. | |
| |
| How thrills once more the lengthening chain | |
| Of memory, at the thought of thee! | 20 |
| Old hopes which long in dust have lain | |
| Old dreams, come thronging back again, | |
| And boyhood lives again in me; | |
| I feel its glow upon my cheek, | |
| Its fulness of the heart is mine, | 25 |
| As when I lean’d to hear thee speak, | |
| Or raised my doubtful eye to thine. | |
| |
| I hear again thy low replies, | |
| I feel thy arm within my own, | |
| And timidly again uprise | 30 |
| The fringèd lids of hazel eyes, | |
| With soft brown tresses overblown. | |
| Ah! memories of sweet summer eves, | |
| Of moonlit wave and willowy way, | |
| Of stars and flowers, and dewy leaves, | 35 |
| And smiles and tones more dear than they! | |
| |
| Ere this, thy quiet eye hath smiled | |
| My picture of thy youth to see, | |
| When, half a woman, half a child, | |
| Thy very artlessness beguiled, | 40 |
| And folly’s self seem’d wise in thee; | |
| I too can smile, when o’er that hour | |
| The lights of memory backward stream, | |
| Yet feel the while that manhood’s power | |
| Is vainer than my boyhood’s dream. | 45 |
| |
| Years have pass’d on, and left their trace | |
| Of graver care and deeper thought; | |
| And unto me the calm, cold face | |
| Of manhood, and to thee the grace | |
| Of woman’s pensive beauty brought. | 50 |
| More wide, perchance, for blame than praise, | |
| The school-boy’s humble name has flown; | |
| Thine, in the green and quiet ways | |
| Of unobtrusive goodness known. | |
| |
| And wider yet in thought and deed | 55 |
| Diverge our pathways, one in youth; | |
| Thine the Genevan’s sternest creed, | |
| While answers to my spirit’s need | |
| The Derby dalesman’s simple truth. | |
| For thee, the priestly rite and prayer, | 60 |
| And holy day, and solemn psalm; | |
| For me, the silent reverence where | |
| My brethren gather, slow and calm. | |
| |
| Yet hath thy spirit left on me | |
| An impress Time has worn not out, | 65 |
| And something of myself in thee, | |
| A shadow from the past, I see, | |
| Ling’ring, even yet, thy way about; | |
| Not wholly can the heart unlearn | |
| That lesson of its better hours, | 70 |
| Not yet has Time’s dull footstep worn | |
| To common dust that path of flowers. | |
| |
| Thus, while at times before our eyes | |
| The shadows melt, and fall apart, | |
| And, smiling through them, round us lies | 75 |
| The warm light of our morning skies,— | |
| The Indian Summer of the heart! | |
| In secret sympathies of mind, | |
| In founts of feeling which retain | |
| Their pure, fresh flow, we yet may find | 80 |
| Our early dreams not wholly vain! | |
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