Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Wishes and Realities

Wishes and Realities.

A child's wishes.

"I wish I were a little bird,
To fly so far and high,
And sail along the golden clouds,
And through the azure sky.
I'd be the first to see the sun
Up from the ocean spring;
And ere it touched the glittering spire,
His ray should gild my wing.

"Above the hills I'd watch him still,
Far down the crimson west;
And sing to him, my evening song,
Ere yet I sought my rest.
And many a land I then, should see,
As hill and plain I crossed;
Nor fear through all the pathless sky
That I should e'er be lost.

"I'd fly where, round the olive bough,
The vine its tendrils weaves;
And shelter from the moonbeams seek
Among the myrtle leaves.
Now, if I climb our highest hill,
How little can I see!
Oh, had I but a pair of wings,
How happy should I be!"

Reply.

"Wings cannot soar above the sky,
As thou in thought canst do;
Nor can the veiling clouds confine
Thy mental eye's keen view.
Not to the sun dost thou chant forth
Thy simple evening hymn;
Thou praisest Him, before whose smile
The noonday sun grows dim."

"But thou may'st learn to trace the sun
Around the earth and sky,
And see him rising, setting, still,
Where distant oceans lie.
To other lands the bird may guide
His pinions through the air;
Ere yet he rests his wings, thou art
In thought before him there.

"Though strong and free, his wing may droop,
Or bands restrain its flight:
Thought none can stay—more fleet its course
Than swiftest beams of light;
A lovelier clime than birds can find,
While summers go and come,
Beyond this earth remains for those,
Whom God doth summon home."