I pledge you in this cup of grief, Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf! The Battle of our Life is brief, The alarm, the struggle, the relief, Then sleep we side by side. MAIDENHOOD. MAIDEN! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Standing, with reluctant feet, 1 Gazing, with a timid glance, Deep and still, that gliding stream As the river of a dream. Then why pause with indecision, When bright angels in thy vision Seest thou shadows sailing by, Hearest thou voices on the shore, That our ears perceive no more, O, thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, — Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares! Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June. Childhood is the bough, where slumbered Birds and blossoms many-numbered ;Age, that bough with snows encumbered. Gather, then, each flower that grows, To embalm that tent of snows. Bear a lily in thy hand; Gates of brass cannot withstand One touch of that magic wand. |