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112 SONGS FOR GIRLHOOD. |
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I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,
Gin I hae bin to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts
As ye hae bin to me ? Oh, tell me gin their music fills
Thine ear as it does mine! Oh, say gin e'er your heart grows grit
Wi' dreamiugs o' laugsyne ?
I've wandered east, I've wandered west,
I've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings, far or near,
Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart
Still travels on its way, And channels deeper, as it rins,
The luve o' life's young day.
O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,
Since we were siudered young, I've never seen your face, nor heard
The music o' your tongue ; But I could hug all wretchedness,
And happy could I dee, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed
O' bygaue days and me! |
" The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend.
Nor shall she fail to see, E'en in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mold the maiden's form
By silent sympathy.
The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear
In mauy a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty, born of murmuring sound,
Shall pass into her face.
And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give, While she and I together live
Here iu this happy dell."
Thus Nature spake. The work was done-How soon my Lucy's race was run !
She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene ; The memory of what has been,
And never more will be. |
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LUCY.
William Wordsworth.
Three years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown; This child I to myself will take : She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own.
" Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse; and with me
The- girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
"She shall be sportive as the fawn, That, wild with glee, across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs; Aud hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute, insensate things. |
MAIDENHOOD. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orb a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies!
Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run!
Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!
Gazing, with a timid glance, On the brooklet's swift advance On the river's broad expanse!
Deep and still, that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem, As the river of a dream. |
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