Swing! swing! ever, O happy heart,
Active through sorrow and active through gladness, Still a true living part
Play on, O restless heart,
Tireless through triumph, defeat, joy and sadness; Swing! swing!
SAY, golden Summer, now
What art thou bringing,
Now on the orchard bough
No thrush is singing,
Now that no wood-dove's coo
Comes the green forest through,
And trills of rapture, no lark down is flinging?
What bring'st thou, Summer?
Gone are the tender songs
April was singing;
Gone are the pale sweet throngs
April was bringing;
What, for the snow-drop frail,
What, for the primrose pale,
What, now no breeze sets the lily's bells ringing,
What bring'st thou, Summer?
"I bring a glory rare,”
So Summer singeth,
"Fairer than all things fair;
"Blooms that Spring bringeth,
"You are pale Winter snows,
"Seen by my flushing rose
"When all her wonder of beauty she flingeth "Wide to the Summer."
FALL on Earth's heart, O gladness,
O freshly falling dew!
No dream of tears and sadness
My fancy finds in you;
Into Earth's parching bosom
Sink herb and flower with you; To her steals down each blossom, With you, O falling dew.
The tender verdure blessing
The laughing fields of Spring,
The lilies June's possessing,
Her roses rare you bring.
The harvest's golden treasure
Descends to man with you,
In plenty without measure,
O gently falling dew.
Like Summer's sunshine, stealing
In stillness from above,
Your freshness, Earth is feeling
As softly as God's love,
Yes, silent, ceasing never,
Descends His love in you,
Upon Earth's heart for ever,
O gently falling dew.
NELLY.
IN a leafy hamlet,
Filled with bees and blooms,
In a home where roses
Peer through all the rooms, Where through open windows Sounds the clacking mill And the rushing waters
Noon with freshness fill,
There you'll find my Nelly,
There her parents dwell,
But, where'er my heart is,
There she dwells as well.
Garden, kitchen, parlour,
Each her sweetness sees
Brightening Summer's sunshine,
Busy as her bees;
Gladdening every gladness,
Making sorrow smile,
There, the more's my sadness,
There she'll dwell awhile,
There I know my Nelly
Yet awhile must dwell,
But, within my heart, too,
There she'll dwell as well.
Happy hour that's coming,
Come with lagging May
When with happier humming
Bees shall bless the day,
When, a bride, I'll bring her
Through the happy door,
Door, no more to see her
Often as before.
Till that day, my Nelly
'Mongst your roses dwell,
But within my heart, dear,
Nestle there as well.
A LAMENT.
WHEN Lucy was a baby
With rosy kicks and crows,
O much too hard, it may be,
She'd pull my hair and nose;
Then I'd objections to it,
To give her up, I'd vow ;
Now how I wish she'd do it!
O, if she'd do it now!
But she's no more a baby;
All gone are kicks and crows,
And nevermore, it may be,
She'll pat my hair and nose.
When Lucy, rather older,
Grew into pattering shoes,
She'd toddle to me, bolder,
For kisses I'd refuse;
I'd kisses then refuse to
Her lifted mouth, I vow;
O just as Lucy used to,
I wish she'd kiss me now!
But stateliest of misses,
No more my lips she'll woo; No more she'll come for kisses, As once she used to do.
When Lucy, rather nearer
Her teens, at Christmas came
From school, I seemed but dearer,
We romped and played the same.
At blindman's-buff, she caught me;
She'd catch but me, I vow;
To waltz and polk she taught me ;
I wish she'd teach me now!
But, coldest now of misses,
A smile it's hard to gain;
For romps and games and kisses,
I long may sigh in vain.
Ah, what a girl she's grown to!
And, if the truth were told,
She'd blush to have to own to
Her love for me of old;
Yet she's as fond, I know it;
I see it still somehow;
But, as she used to show it,
I wish she'd show it now!
Almost the perfect woman,
How pleasant it would be,
Were she not so inhuman,
But as she was to me!
O cousin Lucy, cousin,
Still by my heart I'm told,
Though lovers you've a dozen,
I'm all I was of old.
Love used to come unbidden
When you were small, somehow;
It then would not be hidden;
Why will you hide it now?
It's teasing, coz, you would be,
But O, how I'd prefer,
You, puss, that now you could be
All, sweet one, once you were!
UPON THY STREAM, SWIFT-FLOWING.
UPON thy stream, swift-flowing,
What shall I, Time, be throwing,
That, 'neath thy waters, never
Shall sink, but, downward going,
Upon their breast be showing
Its sweetness on for ever!
Time-Time !
Shall it not be rhyme,
With her sweet name to give it fame,
Time-Time!
Beneath thy waters, speeding
For ever on, unheeding,
What fairest things have perished!
Ah, sweetest words are needing
Her sweetness, for the reading
Of all years, to be cherished!
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