Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/209

1830-40.] JOHN H. BRYANT 193 How briglitly leap, mid glittering sands, The living waters from below ; Oh, let me dip these lean, brown hands. Drink deep, and bathe this wrinkled brow ; And feel, through every shrunken vein, The Avarm,red stream tlow swift and free ; i Feel, waking in my heart again Youth's brightest hopes, youth's wildest glee. 'Tis vain, for still the life-blood plays With sluggish course through all my frame ; The mirror of the pool betrays My wrinkled visage still the same. And the sad spirit questions still — Must this warm frame — these limbs, that yield To each light motion of the will — Lie with the dull clods of the field ? Has nature no renewing power To drive the frost of age away ? Has earth no fount, or herb, or flower, Which man may taste and live for aye ? Alas ! for that unchanging state Of youth and strength, in vain we yearn ; And only after death's dark gate Is reached and passed, can youth return. THE BLUE-BIRD. There is a lovely little bird, that comes When the first wild-flowers open in the glen. And sings all summer in the leafy wood. Fu'st, in the opening spring, his mellow voice Swells from the shrubbery by our dwelling- side ; But when the robin and the swallow come. He hies him from their presence to the depth 13 Of some old mossy forest, where he sings Sweet songs, to cheer us all the summer long. This is the blue-bird, loveliest of our clime : No song that haunts the woodland charms like his — Sweetest, far sweetest, is his voice to me. At the soft liour of twilight, when the world Has hushed her din of voices, and her sons Are gathering to their slumbers from their toil. As all are gathered to the grave at last. I sit whole hours upon a moss-grown stone, In some sequestered spot, and hear his lay. Unmindful of the things that near me pass. Till all at once, as the dim shades of night Fall thicker on the lessening landscape round. He ceases, and my reverie is broke. One summer eve, at twilight's quiet hour. After a sultry day, spent at my books, I slipped forth from my study, to enjoy The cool of evening. Leaning on my arm Was one I loved, a gul of gentle mould : She had sweet eyes, and lips the haunt of smiles, And long dark locks, that hung in native curls Ai'ound her snowy bosom. The light wind Tossed them aside, to kiss her Hly neck. Gently, as he were conscious what he touched. Her step was light, light as the breeze that fanned Her blushing cheek ; gay was her heart, for youth And innocence are ever gay ; her form Was stately as an angel's, and her brow Wliite as the mountain snow; her voice was sweet. Sweet as the chiding of the brook that plays Along its pebbly channel. Ruddy clouds Were gathered east and south, high piled and seemed Like ruby temples in a sapphire sky.