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Child, Lydia Maria Francis, 1802-1880 [1857], Autumnal leaves: tales and sketches in prose and rhyme. (C.S. Francis and Co, Boston) [word count] [eaf495T]. To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.
In morning hours, Full of flowers, Our swift boats glide O'er life's bright tide; And every time the oars we raise The falling drops like diamonds blaze. From earth and sky Comes melody; And ev'ry voice Singeth, “Rejoice!” While echoes all around prolong The cadence of that wondrous song. Above each boat Bright fairies float, Mounting on air To castles there. The earth is full of glorious things All tinged with light from rainbow wings. Dear Friendship's smile, And Love's sweet wile, Make Life all bright With genial light, And seem to shine with steady ray, That ne'er can change, or fade away.
More slowly glides life's evening boat, And withered flowers around it float. The drops fall dark from weary oars, And dismal fogs shroud all the shores. Like widowed bird that mourns alone, Sings Music, in her minor tone, Of flowers that blossom but to die; And echoes answer plaintively. Bright fairies change to limping hags; Their rainbow wings to dingy rags. Dark heavy clouds sail through the air, Where golden castles shone so fair. Strong hearts grow faint, and young ones old; Friendships decline, and Love is cold. Dim twilight changes morn's ideal To flick'ring shadows, all unreal. But joy remains, if we have thrown Fresh flowers to boats around our own. Though currents part us far and wide, Sweet perfumes live from flowers that died. Or if our blossoms formed good seeds, Such as the growing future needs, Those little germs perchance may yield Rich waving crops in Time's ripe fields.
Though dark the tide we're drifting o'er, It brings us near that brighter shore, Where longing souls at length will know The use of this world's changing show. Meanwhile, though sunlight has gone down, Life's ev'ning wears a starry crown, Where weary ones, who look above, May read the letters, “God is love.”
Child, Lydia Maria Francis, 1802-1880 [1857], Autumnal leaves: tales and sketches in prose and rhyme. (C.S. Francis and Co, Boston) [word count] [eaf495T]. |