Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Amulet, 1831/The Legacy
THE LEGACY
|
THE LEGACY.
There, 'mid the many vanities of youth,
The picture lay; I knew her gentle face;
The eyes recalled the likeness, though the bloom
Of the sweet season which the portrait wore,
Had long been past away.
The same, yet not the same—her face
Has still that Grecian line;
The sculptured perfectness whose grace
Has long been held divine.
But all beside is changed: that face
Has spring upon its rose;
The eyes—the daylight's earliest break
Has sunshine such as those.
The very painter's hues have caught
The spirit from within,
The light with which young life is fraught,
Ere care and cloud begin.
That time so breathless and so brief,
The false, and yet the true,
When hope writes on a red rose leaf
The beautiful and new.
The morning lights each hour makes less
Dance o'er the morning tide;
And we believe in happiness,
Because as yet untried.
Now shine and storm alike are past—
Thy future is with those
Whose earthly grief and trouble cast,
On heaven and hope repose.
Flung carelessly, 'mid robe and plume,
'Mid chaplet, and 'mid chain,
This trophy of thy early bloom!—
It does not speak in vain:
For I am taught how much the heart
Has with itself to strive—
How it subdues its weaker part,
While faith is kept alive!
For thou hast struggled with despair,
And kept thy steadfast way,
Though all that seemed so bright, so fair,
Scattered around thee lay.
And your reward is peace; for heaven,
Whose better part you chose,
Already to your life has given
The blessing of repose.
Sweet friend, the world is yet with me,
Its vanity, its care;
Vain hopes for things that may not be,
Regrets for those that are!
This cannot last! I will believe
That I shall learn to know
A hope that will not all deceive,
A trust not placed below.
I needs must weep—I fain would pray
For light athwart the gloom;
One promise of that holier day
Whose morning is the tomb!
L. E. L.