Part 13 (1/2)

THE THREE SEASONS OF LOVE.

With laughter swimming in thine eye, That told youth's heartfelt revelry; And motion changeful as the wing Of swallow waken'd by the spring; With accents blythe as voice of May Chaunting glad Nature's roundelay; Circled by joy like planet bright That smiles 'mid wreathes of dewy light,-- Thy image such, in former time, When thou, just entering on thy prime, And woman's sense in thee combined Gently with childhood's simplest mind, First taught'st my sighing soul to move With hope towards the heaven of love!

Now years have given my Mary's face A thoughtful and a quiet grace:-- Though happy still,--yet chance distress Hath left a pensive loveliness; Fancy has tamed her fairy gleams, And thy heart broods o'er home-born dreams!

Thy smiles, slow-kindling now and mild, Shower blessings on a darling child; Thy motion slow, and soft thy tread, As if round thy husht infant's bed!-- And when thou speak'st, thy melting tone, That tells thy heart is all my own, Sounds sweeter, from the lapse of years, With the wife's love, the mother's fears!

By thy glad youth, and tranquil prime a.s.sured, I smile at h.o.a.ry time!

For thou art doom'd in age to know The calm that wisdom steals from woe; The holy pride of high intent, The glory of a life well-spent.

When, earth's affections nearly o'er, With Peace behind, and Faith before, Thou render'st up again to G.o.d, Untarnish'd by its frail abode, Thy l.u.s.trous soul,--then harp and hymn, From bands of sister seraphim, Asleep will lay thee, till thine eye Open in Immortality.

TO A SLEEPING CHILD.

Art thou a thing of mortal birth, Whose happy home is on our earth?

Does human blood with life embue Those wandering veins of heavenly blue, That stray along thy forehead fair, Lost 'mid a gleam of golden hair?

Oh! can that light and airy breath Steal from a being doom'd to death; Those features to the grave be sent In sleep thus mutely eloquent; Or, art thou, what thy form would seem, The phantom of a blessed dream?

A human shape I feel thou art, I feel it, at my beating heart, Those tremors both of soul and sense Awoke by infant innocence!

Though dear the forms by fancy wove, We love them with a transient love; Thoughts from the living world intrude Even on her deepest solitude: But, lovely child! thy magic stole At once into my inmost soul, With feelings as thy beauty fair, And left no other vision there.

To me thy parents are unknown; Glad would they be their child to own!

And well they must have loved before, If since thy birth they loved not more.

Thou art a branch of n.o.ble stem, And, seeing thee, I figure them.

What many a childless one would give, If thou in their still home wouldst live!

Though in thy face no family-line Might sweetly say, ”This babe is mine!”

In time thou would'st become the same As their own child,--all but the name!

How happy must thy parents be Who daily live in sight of thee!

Whose hearts no greater pleasure seek Than see thee smile, and hear thee speak, And feel all natural griefs beguiled By thee, their fond, their duteous child.

What joy must in their souls have stirr'd When thy first broken words were heard, Words, that, inspired by Heaven, express'd The transports dancing in thy breast!

As for thy smile!--thy lip, cheek, brow, Even while I gaze, are kindling now.

I called thee duteous: am I wrong?

No! truth, I feel, is in my song: Duteous thy heart's still beatings move To G.o.d, to Nature, and to Love!

To G.o.d!--for thou a harmless child Hast kept his temple undefiled: To Nature!--for thy tears and sighs Obey alone her mysteries: To Love!--for fiends of hate might see Thou dwell'st in love, and love in thee!

What wonder then, though in thy dreams Thy face with mystic meaning beams!

Oh! that my spirit's eye could see Whence burst those gleams of extacy!

That light of dreaming soul appears To play from thoughts above thy years.

Thou smil'st as if thy soul were soaring To Heaven, and Heaven's G.o.d adoring!

And who can tell what visions high May bless an infant's sleeping eye?

What brighter throne can brightness find To reign on than an infant's mind, Ere sin destroy, or error dim, The glory of the Seraphim?

But now thy changing smiles express Intelligible happiness.

I feel my soul thy soul partake.