Page images

Who fancied what a pretty sight
This Rock would be if edged around
With living Snowdrops ? circlet bright!
How glorious to this Orchard ground !
Who loved the little Rock, and set
Upon its Head this Coronet ?

Was it the humour of a Child ?
Or rather of some love-sick Maid,
Whose brows, the day that she was styled
The Shepherd Queen were thus arrayed ?
Of Man mature, or Matron sage?
Or old Man toying with his age ?

I ask'd— 'twas whisper'd, The device
To each or all might well belong.
It is the Spirit of Paradise
That prompts such work, a Spirit strong,
That gives to all the self-same bent
Where life is wise and innocent.



Look, five blue eggs are gleaming there !
Few visions have I seen more fair,
Nor many prospects of delight
More pleasing than that simple sight!
I started seeming to espy
The home and shelter'd bed,
The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by
My Father's House, in wet or dry,
My Sister Emmeline and I

Together visited.

She look'd at it as if she fear’d it;
Still wishing, dreading to be near it:
Such heart was in her, being then
A little Prattler among men.
The Blessing of my later years
Was with me when a Boy;
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
And humble cares, and delicate fears;
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ;

And love, and thought, and joy. 10.


Yet are they here?the same unbroken knot
Of human Beings, in the self-same spot!

Men, Women, Children, yea the frame

Of the whole Spectacle the same !
Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light:
Now deep and red, the colouring of night;

That on their Gipsy-faces falls,

Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. -Twelve hours, twelve bounteons hours, are gone while I Have been a Traveller under open sky,

Much witnessing of change and chear,
Yet as I left I find them here !

« PreviousContinue »