Prophet of delight and mirth, Of a joyous train ensuing, WORDSWORTH. DAFFODILS. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud A host, of golden daffodils ; Continuous as the stars that shine The waves beside them danced; but they În such a jocund company: I gazed-and gazed-but little thought For oft when on my couch I lie, Which is the bliss of solitude; WORDSWORTH. VIOLET. VIOLET! Sweet violet ! Thine eyes are full of tears; With the thought of other years? And longing for those far-off spheres? Loved one of my youth thou wast, All the fair and sunny past, Thy little heart, that hath with love All the woe Of hope for what returneth never, Out on it! no foolish pining Dims thine eye, Or for the stars so calmly shining; Take hue from that wherefor I long, Thy blue eyes are only wet With joy and love of Him who sent thee, And for the fulfilling sense Of that glad obedience Which made thee all that Nature meant thee! LOWELL. THE PRIMROSE. THE milk-white blossoms of the thorn Moved by the wind that breathes along A modest glance doth throw! The humble primrose' bonnie face Where other flowers disdain to bloom, Like God's own light, on every place And where its dwelling-place is made, Where'er the green-winged linnet sings, On field-paths narrow, and in woods, Till thou becomest prized and loved, The stars are sweet at eventide, But cold, and far away ; The clouds are soft in summer time, The rose is rich-but pride of place God's simple common things I love— I love the fireside of my home, The feelings fond of every day, And while admiring all the flowers Within my heart the primrose sweet, NICOLL. THE WALL-FLOWER. WHY loves my flower, so high reclined And swing her bright locks in the storm? That lonely spot is bleak and hoar, Where prints my flower her fragrant kiss Yet sorrow hangs not fonder o'er The ruins of her faded bliss. And wherefore will she thus inweave The owl's lone couch, and feel at eve And strike them down with heedless wing? Thus, gazing on the loftiest tower Of ruined Fore at eventide, The Muse addressed a lonely flower 'On this lone tower, so wild and drear, Which prouder haunts could ne'er supply. Safe on these walls I sit, and stem The elements that conquered them; Smile on an anxious world below. Though envied place I may not claim Aloft and wild, my home I choose, And drink the dew, and scent the breeze, Bloom on, sweet moralist! Be thine The softest shower, the brightest sun! Long o'er a world of error shine, And teach them what to seek and shun! Bloom on, and show the simple glee That dwells with those who dwell like thee From noise, and glare, and folly driven, To thought, retirement, peace, and heaven. Show them, in thine, the Christian's lot, So dark and drear in worldly eyes; And yet he would exchange it not For all they most pursue and prize. From meaner cares and trammels free, He soars above the world, like thee; And fed and nurtured from above, Returns the debt in grateful love. |