THE GREEN MOSSY BANK WHERE THE BUTTERCUPS GREW.
O my thoughts are away where my infancy flew,
Near the green mossy bank where the buttercups grew,
Where the bright silver fountain eternally played,
First laughing in sunshine, then singing in shade;
There oft in my childhood I've wandered in play,
Flinging up the cool drops of the light falling spray,
Till my small naked feet were all bathed in bright dew,
As I played on the bank where the buttercups grew.
Near the green mossy bank where the buttercups grew,
Where the bright silver fountain eternally played,
First laughing in sunshine, then singing in shade;
There oft in my childhood I've wandered in play,
Flinging up the cool drops of the light falling spray,
Till my small naked feet were all bathed in bright dew,
As I played on the bank where the buttercups grew.
How softly that green bank sloped down from the hill
To the spot where the fountain grew suddenly still!
How cool was the shadow, the long branches gave,
As they hung from the willow and dipped in the wave!
And then, each pale lily, that slept on the stream,
Rose and fell with the wave, as if stirred by a dream!
While my home 'mid the vine-leaves rose soft on my view,
As I played on the bank where the buttercups grew.
To the spot where the fountain grew suddenly still!
How cool was the shadow, the long branches gave,
As they hung from the willow and dipped in the wave!
And then, each pale lily, that slept on the stream,
Rose and fell with the wave, as if stirred by a dream!
While my home 'mid the vine-leaves rose soft on my view,
As I played on the bank where the buttercups grew.
The beautiful things! how I watched them unfold,
Till they lifted their delicate vases of gold!
O, never a spot since those days have I seen
With leaves of such freshness and flowers of such sheen!
How glad was my spirit! for then there was nought
To burthen its wing, save some beautiful thought
Breaking up from its depths with each wild wind, that blew
O'er the green mossy bank where the buttercups grew.
Till they lifted their delicate vases of gold!
O, never a spot since those days have I seen
With leaves of such freshness and flowers of such sheen!
How glad was my spirit! for then there was nought
To burthen its wing, save some beautiful thought
Breaking up from its depths with each wild wind, that blew
O'er the green mossy bank where the buttercups grew.
The paths I have trod I would quickly retrace,
Could I win back the gladness, that looked from my face
As I cooled my warm lip in that fountain, I love
With a spirit as pure as the wing of a dove—
Could I wander again where my forehead was starred
With the beauty that dwelt in my bosom unmarred,
And, calm as a child in the starlight and dew,
Fall asleep on the bank where the buttercups grew.
Could I win back the gladness, that looked from my face
As I cooled my warm lip in that fountain, I love
With a spirit as pure as the wing of a dove—
Could I wander again where my forehead was starred
With the beauty that dwelt in my bosom unmarred,
And, calm as a child in the starlight and dew,
Fall asleep on the bank where the buttercups grew.