Volume I Part 93 (1/2)

I pray you hear my song of a boat For it is but short:-- My boat you shall find none fairer afloat, In river or port.

Long I looked out for the lad she bore, On the open desolate sea, And I think he sailed to the heavenly sh.o.r.e, For he came not back to me-- Ah me!

A song of a nest:-- There was once a nest in a hollow: Down in the mosses and knot-gra.s.s pressed, Soft and warm and full to the brim-- Vetches leaned over it purple, and dim, With b.u.t.tercup buds to follow.

I pray you hear my song of a nest, For it is not long:-- You shall never light in a summer quest The bushes among-- Shall never light on a prouder sitter, A fairer nestful, nor ever know A softer sound than their tender twitter, That wind-like did come and go.

I had a nestful once of my own, Ah, happy, happy I!

Right dearly I loved them; but when they were grown They spread out their wings to fly-- Oh, one after one they flew away Far up to the heavenly blue, To the better country, the upper day, And--I wish I was going too.

I pray you what is the nest to me, My empty nest?

And what is the sh.o.r.e where I stood to see My boat sail down to the west?

Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Though my good man has sailed?

Can I call that home where my nest was set, Now all its hope hath failed?

Nay, but the port where my sailor went, And the land where my nestlings be: There is the home where my thoughts are sent The only home for me-- Ah me!

Jean Ingelow [1820-1897]

AUSPEX

My heart, I cannot still it, Nest that had song-birds in it; And when the last shall go, The dreary days, to fill it, Instead of lark or linnet, Shall whirl dead leaves and snow.

Had they been swallows only, Without the pa.s.sion stronger That skyward longs and sings,-- Woe's me, I shall be lonely When I can feel no longer The impatience of their wings!

A moment, sweet delusion, Like birds the brown leaves hover; But it will not be long Before their wild confusion Fall wavering down to cover The poet and his song.

James Russell Lowell [1819-1891]

LOOKING BACKWARD

THE RETREAT

Happy those early days, when I s.h.i.+ned in my Angel-infancy!