DARLINGS of the forest! Blossoming, alone, When Earth’s grief is sorest For her jewels gone— Ere the last snow-drift melts, your tender buds have blown. Tinged with color faintly, Like the morning sky, Or, more pale and saintly, Wrapped in leaves ye lie— Even as children sleep in faith’s simplicity. There the wild wood-robin, Hymns your solitude; And the rain comes sobbing Through the budding wood, While the low south wind sighs, but dare not be more rude. Were your pure lips fashioned Out of air and dew, Starlight unimpassioned, Dawn’s most tender hue, And scented by the woods that gathered sweets for you? Fairest and most lonely, From the world apart; Made for beauty only, Veiled from Nature’s heart With such unconscious grace as makes the dream of Art! Were not mortal sorrow An immortal shade, Then would I to-morrow Such a flower be made, And live in the dear woods where my lost childhood played.
Trailing Arbutus
More from Poet
-
DARLINGS of the forest! Blossoming, alone, When Earth’s grief is sorest For her jewels gone— Ere the last snow-drift melts, your tender buds have blown. Tinged with color faintly, Like the morning sky, Or, more pale and saintly, Wrapped in...
-
Put every tiny robe away! The stitches all were set with tears, Slow, tender drops of joys; to-day Their rain would wither hopes or fears: Bitter enough to daunt the moth That longs to fret this dainty cloth. The filmy lace, the ribbons blue, The tracery deft of flower and leaf, The fairy shapes...
-
A week ago to-day, when red-haired Sally DOWN to the sugar-camp came to see me, I saw her checked frock coming down the valley, Far as anybody’s eyes could see. Now I sit before the camp-fire, And I can’t see the pine-knots blaze, Nor Sally’s pretty face a-shining, Though I hear the good...
-
If i were a cloud in heaven, I would hang over thee; If I were a star of even, I ’d rise and set for thee; For love, life, light, were given Thy ministers to be. If I were a wind’s low laughter, I ’d kiss thy hair; Or a sunbeam coming after, Lie on thy forehead fair; For the world and...
-
Fasten the chamber! Hide the red key; Cover the portal, That eyes may not see. Get thee to market, To wedding and prayer; Labor or revel, The chamber is there! In comes a stranger— “Thy pictures how fine, Titian or Guido, Whose is the sign?” Looks he behind them? Ah! have a care! “Here is a...