"Yon cloud with that long purple cleft Brings fresh into my mind A day like this, which I have left 193 "And just above yon slope of corn Such colours, and no other, Were in the sky, that April morn, Of this the very brother. "With rod and line I sued the sport Which that sweet season gave, And, coming to the church, stopped short Beside my daughter's grave. "Nine summers had she scarcely seen, The pride of all the vale; And then she sang ;-she would have been A very nightingale ! "Six feet in earth my Emma lay; And yet I loved her more, For so it seemed, than till that day I e'er had loved before. "And, turning from her grave, I met, A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet "A basket on her head she bare; Her brow was smooth and white: To see a child so very fair, It was a pure delight! "No fountain from its rocky cave E'er tripped with foot so free; She seemed as happy as a wave That dances on the sea. "There came from me a sigh of pain Which I could ill confine; THE FOUNTAIN. A CONVERSATION. We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fountain broke, And gurgled at our feet. "Now, Matthew! let us try to match This water's pleasant tune With some old border song, or catch, That suits a summer's noon. "Or of the church-clock and the chimes Sing here, beneath the shade, That half-mad thing of witty rhymes Which you last April made!" In silence Matthew lay, and eyed The spring beneath the tree; And thus the dear old man replied, The gray-haired man of glee : "Down to the vale this water steers, How merrily it goes! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. |