POEMS.
81
Steal round me out of silence and of gloom,
And faintly falling tears.
And faintly falling tears.
Your woodland home that lies so far away
Is dim and cool,—no echo from the street
Sullies your freshness, all the live-long day
You dwell in silence sweet.
Is dim and cool,—no echo from the street
Sullies your freshness, all the live-long day
You dwell in silence sweet.
O wind flowers, ever sighing to the breeze,
Men look with toil-worn eyes and weary brain
Upon your lovely heritage 'neath trees-—
With hearts akin to pain.
Men look with toil-worn eyes and weary brain
Upon your lovely heritage 'neath trees-—
With hearts akin to pain.
Here in the city pent for long, long hours
The little children sit with heavy eyes,
They hardly seem to know a world of flowers
Bloom under happier skies;
The little children sit with heavy eyes,
They hardly seem to know a world of flowers
Bloom under happier skies;
Or, if they do, 'tis but a little while,
Perchance a holiday which takes them down
Into the quiet country, with its smile,
Far from the crowded town.
Perchance a holiday which takes them down
Into the quiet country, with its smile,
Far from the crowded town.
Poor city souls! how sick must be your minds
For one brief glimpse of valleys green and cool,
For cloudless sunshine and for sweeping winds
Across some limpid pool.
For one brief glimpse of valleys green and cool,
For cloudless sunshine and for sweeping winds
Across some limpid pool.
In dreams alone those visions come and pass
Of autumn fields with amber-tinted corn,
Of breezy uplands and of meadow grass
Tinged with the light of morn.
Of autumn fields with amber-tinted corn,
Of breezy uplands and of meadow grass
Tinged with the light of morn.
