THE Seine is like a belt of gold,—
Beneath an autumn sky,
That floats, in many a crimson fold,
Like a banner hung on high!
The town hangs darkly o'er the stream,
Where lights and shadows play,
2 on wave-like dream on dream,—
Yet ever pensive,—like a thing from home!
Lovely and lonely as a single star!
But kind and true to me, as thou hadst come
From thine own element-so very far,
Only to be a cynosure to eyes
Now sickening at the sunshine of the skies!
It were a crime to weep!-'tis none to kneel,
As now I kneel, before this type of thee,
And worship her, who taught my soul to feel
Such worship is no vain idolatry!
Thou wert my spirit's spirit-and thou art,
Though this be all of thee time hath not reft,
Save the old thoughts that hang about the heart,
Like withered leaves that many storms have left!
I turn from living looks-the cold, the dull,
To any
trace of thee the lost, the beautiful!
Broken, and bowed, and wasted with regret,
I gaze, and weep-why do I weep alone!
I would not-would not, if I could-forget,
But I am all remembrance,-it hath grown
My very being!-Will she never speak?
The lips are parted, and the braided hair
Seems as it waved upon her brightening cheek,
And smile, and every thing—but breath-are there!
Oh, for the voice that I have stayed to hear,
-Only in dreams,-so many a lonely year!
It will not be ;-away, bright cheat, away!
Cold, far too cold to love!-thy look grows strange;
I want the thousand thoughts that used to play,
Like lights and shadowings, in chequered change!
That smile!-I know thou art not like her, now,—
Within her land-where'er it be of light,
She smiles not while a cloud is on my brow!-
When will it pass away-this heavy night!
Oh! will the cool, clear morning never come,
And light me to her, in her spirit's home!
FLOWER of my cold and darkened year! Sweet fount amid my spirit's dearth! Be near me, with the smiles that cheer The happy home and quiet hearth; That still, 'mid winter and 'mid night, Like fairies play their sunny part,
To turn the darkness into light,
And make it summer in the heart!
FLOWER OF MY COLD AND DARKENED YEAR. 25
What though my early hopes have flown,
Like Noah's bird, that came not back,
And many a faded leaf has strown,
All-all too soon, my summer track;
My heart has treasures of its own,
Shrines on which ruin cannot fall,
And cherished there, thy look and tone
Are birds, and flowers, and hopes, and all!
Oh! blessed time of smiles and tears,
Ere smiles or tears are mournful things,—
Of hopes-ere hopes are born with fears,-
And wishes that have, all, got wings!
Oh! could I tread, again, youth's track,
With thee,-beloved as thou art!
But who shall bring the shadow back,
Upon the dial of my heart!
Forward, like rivers to the main,
passes on- -for ever on!-.
The moon shall never pause again
Upon the vale of Ajalon!—
|