Lays from the West Part 12

MORNING.

The gladsome Morning looked across the hills, Clad in his richly tinted robes; the opal dawn, Faint blus.h.i.+ng in the East, grew clear and brighter, Till the resplendent sunrise decked the sky.

It shone upon the woods--the birds awoke To chant their welcome to the G.o.d of day.

It shone upon the meadows, and the flowers Ope'd their eyes, where the bright dew-tears glistened As they had wept thro' the long hours of night, Heedless of how the star-beams smiled and played; And the pale, tender moon, with pitying ray, Looked down upon their lowly, drooping heads, Now lifted gladly to the morning light, Till the warm suns.h.i.+ne kissed their tears away.

And clouds of fragrance from their beds arose, That amorous zephyrs, as they wandered by, Wafted, like sweetest incense, to the sky!

It shone upon the rivers, as they flowed Through fertile meadow-lands, so rich in loveliness; Sweet streams, that, rippling on in restful song, Took up a tone more joyous in that hour; And whispering leaves, and birds that, far and near, From grove and hedgerow, warbling clear and sweet In blending music, trembled in the air-- Like matin hymns, that on Creation's wings Were upwards borne to the Creator's Throne!

ANOTHER YEAR.

Another year has well nigh pa.s.sed, With all its smiles and tears, And joys and sorrows that are cast In Time's great stream, whose waters vast Roll to the ocean of the Past, Bearing our hopes and fears, Where 'neath its waves they mingle fast With all our vanished years.

Another year! a span of Time, That tells of lifework done; A book, some pages dark with crime-- Some grand, and holy, and sublime; A trumpet, telling every clime Of battles lost and won: A knell of woe--a joy-bell's chime, Hope dead, and bliss begun!

Another year! In Spring's sweet hours What blissful thoughts we knew!

What hopes, that came with opening flowers, What visions, nurse in spring-wreathed bowers, When Fancy lent her magic powers To trace in brilliant hue Castles of air, and dream-built towers Too soon to fade from view!

Another year! and I can trace Footprints o'er Summer's way, But turn to find a vacant place, Where once I met a cherished face, And well-loved form of youth and grace, Now pa.s.s'd from earth away-- This year the goal of one bright race, The close of one fair day.

Autumn is dead. The year is old, The dull November days are chill; The bare woods dreary to behold; The northern blast blows keen and cold, Far sighing over waste and world, O'er wintry vale and hill; And in its moan are requiems told For true hearts dead and still!

So must it be. Each pa.s.sing year Still bears some joy away; Some darling treasure, held too dear, In trembling bliss, in hope and fear, Which we would fancy safe and near, Departs, and seems to say-- "We have no lasting city here, Earth's life is but a day!"

But Christmas, coming round again, Shall bring his wonted cheer; And Pleasure, in his jovial train, With rosy mirth and glee shall reign, To chase these thoughts of gloom and pain That haunt the dying year; And grief-parched lips the cup shall drain Of "Peace and good-will here!"

WITH A SHAMROCK.

Here, in these triple leaves, oh! read from me, What I, for _thee_, have dreamed their mystic spell, Faith, Hope and Love, joined hand in hand, I see, And this the message that they seem to tell:--

Love, for the present, and the time to he, Faith, that its might and truth can never die; Hope, that beyond the future clouds and mystery Points to a smiling scene, and cloudless sky.

"WAITING FOR THE MAY,"

"Ah! my heart is weary waiting, waiting for the May!"

Old thoughts come back from the old time, Where, at even, the sunset light Gilds wood and world, ere the glory dies, And darkness gathers along the skies And the world is left in night.

Old songs float round in the gloaming, Sweet fragments that come and go; They are echoes, I know, from the olden times, Holy, as music vesper chimes, In the days of "Long Ago!"

And faces s.h.i.+ne in the firelight; And laughter rings through the rooms; And memories of bygone springtime eves Come back to my lone heart that aches and grieves In the chill of life's winter glooms,

Then, the May of love that I longed-for Was hid in the future haze; I dreamed it a land of joy unknown, Where bliss and beauty would be my own Through the length of life's fair days.

So in hope for the May I waited As gay as the joyous hours That sped so fast, on their lightsome wings Thro' flowers, and sunlight, and glorious things That lived in youth's fairy bowers;

But the hopes I nursed in that springtime-- Ah! me, but those times were bright!

Are withered now, and no fruit I see, Though the blossoms were fair on every tree In the glow of their promise-light!

Yet, when by the grave where I buried Those hopes, I stand and weep, I hear Faith say, as the storm-winds blow,-- "If in patience, and sorrow, and tears ye sow, The guerdon of joy ye shall reap!"

AWAKENED.

The glories of fair April's pride Are smiling round on every hand, And springtide beauties, far and wide, As with a garment clothe the land.

In shady nooks, in lonely glades, In forest alleys wild flowers spring, In budding stalls, in twilight shades, In lonely woods the birdies sing.

The violet's bloom on many a bank Is mirror'd in the waters sheen; And 'mong the gra.s.ses long and rank The yellow primrose flower is seen.

In yon dim wood the trestle sings 'Mong boughs that clasp hands overhead, And through the air his glad song rings, As in that April long since dead.

The brook has still the same soft flow, Whose murmur filled the evening air In those old days of long ago, Though I may never wander there.

I shut my eyes, and see no more The hurrying throng of city ways And call to life that dream of yore, And feel the thrall of bygone days.

The pa.s.sion'd yearning for the time, The glorious time that was to be, The restless young heart's dreams sublime, Of all the future held for me.

Ah! fair the blossoms Hope's tree bore!

I dreamed of Autumn's golden grain-- Oh! fatal blooms! ye brought a store Of deep remorse, of life-long pain!

Oh! dream of youth, I see you now With calmer eyes, and world-taught mind, And know these care-lines on my brow My waking hour has left behind.

All false the glow that round you shone, Though fair as Fancy's dream-land light:-- With all your rainbow decking gone I view your naked wreck to-night.

I look and bless the sudden blast That tore my idol from its throne; And bless the keen pain of the past-- If pain for error could atone.

False love! bereft of all your wiles Dead dream whose sweetness all is o'er, The memories of your tears or smiles Can touch my wakened heart no more.

I lay you in your grave to-night And seal the stone without a sigh, Rejoicing that your gloom and blight No more can cloud my brightening sky.