Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 135.pdf/11

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THE OLD FISH-POND, ETC.


THE OLD FISH-POND.

Green growths of mosses drip and bead
Around the granite brink;
And 'twixt the isles of water-weed
The wood-birds dip and drink;

Slow efts about the edges sleep;
Swift-darting water-flies
Shoot on the surface; down the deep
Dark fishes gloom and rise.

Who knows what lurks beneath the tide?
Who knows what tale? Belike
Those "antres vast" and shadows hide
Some patriarchal pike —

Some tough old tyrant, wrinkled-jawed,
For whom the sky, the earth,
Have but for aim to look on awed,
And watch him wax in girth —

Hard monarch there, by right of might,
An ageless autocrat,
Whose "good old rule" is "Appetite,
And subjects fresh and fat;"

While they — poor things —in wan despair
Still hope for years in him,
And, dying, hand from heir to heir
The day undawned and dim,

When the pond’s terror too must go;
Or, creeping in by stealth,
A bolder race, at one fell blow,
Shall found a commonwealth.

Who knows? Meanwhile the mosses bead
Around the granite brink,
And 'twixt the isles of water-weed
The wood-birds dip and drink.

Good Words.




THE SMILE AND THE SIGH.

A lovely smile, which smiled in sadness,
Once hailed upon the passing breeze
A new-born sigh, which sighed in gladness
To give a restless mortal ease.

The smile and sigh soon formed a union —
A union everlasting, blest —
Whereby, in brotherly communion,
Each worked to give the other rest.

Thus, mutually their toils relieving,
They lived in peaceful light and shade;
No petty jealousies conceiving,
Of nought, not even death, afraid.

And when, with friendship still unbroken,
Fate caused them for a time to part,
Each of the other kept a token,
To prove the two were one at heart.

For, smiling, the sigh to Heaven was carried
On angels' golden wings one day,
While, sighing, the smile on earth still tarried,
And lent its charm to lifeless clay.

Till then, this world was often dreary,
But since then (so the legend saith),
Death's sigh gives life unto the weary,
Life's smile itself illumines death.

Macmillan’s Magazine.




MY SWEETHEART.

Do you know my sweetheart, sir?
She has fled and gone away.
I’ve lost my love; pray tell to me
Have you seen her pass to-day?

Dewy bluebells are her eyes;
Golden corn her waving hair;
Her cheeks are of the sweet blush-roses:
Have you seen this maiden fair?

White lilies are her neck, sir;
And her breath the eglantine;
Her rosy lips the red carnations:
Such is she, this maiden mine.

The light wind is her laughter;
The murmuring brooks her song;
Her tears, so full of tender pity,
In the clouds are borne along.

The sunbeams are her smiles;
The leaves her footsteps light;
To kiss each coy flower into life
Is my true love’s delight.

I will tell ye who she is,
And how all things become her.
Bend down, that I may whisper,
My sweetheart’s name is — "Summer."

Chambers' Journal.T. P.




A CONCEIT.

O, sweet and true, I hold your little hand,
And gaze down into eyes so bright and clear,
They seem to hold the summer's radiance, grand
With all the golden promise of the year.

I see in them the rest that wnnter gave,
And bud and blossom of the glorious spring,
The shim'ring light where summer cornfields wave,
And autumn’s stores that will such gladness bring.

How can I see all these, you ask? Ah, sweet,
Love holds for us all life can give to prize;
It makes its glory rounded and complete,
And love for me I see, dear, in your eyes.

Thomas S. Collier