Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/77
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THE NEW AND THE OLD.
71
Even the sun, with his tender beams,
Seems as young as the flowers they wake.
Seems as young as the flowers they wake.
Children are wading, with cheerful cries,
In the shoals of the sparkling brook,
Laughing maidens, with soft, young eyes,
Walk or sit in the shady nook.
In the shoals of the sparkling brook,
Laughing maidens, with soft, young eyes,
Walk or sit in the shady nook.
What am I doing, thus alone,
In the glory of nature here,
Silver-haired, like a snow-flake thrown
On the greens of the springing year
In the glory of nature here,
Silver-haired, like a snow-flake thrown
On the greens of the springing year
Only for brows unploughed by care,
Eyes that glisten with hope and mirth,
Cheeks unwrinkled, and unblanched hair,
Shines this holiday of the earth.
Eyes that glisten with hope and mirth,
Cheeks unwrinkled, and unblanched hair,
Shines this holiday of the earth.
Under the grass, with the clammy clay,
Lie in darkness the last year's flowers,
Lie in darkness the last year's flowers,