Poems (Acton)/To a Friend of Childhood
TO A FRIEND OF CHILDHOOD.
It hath been said, how, oft upon our path
There bursts a kindred spirit, to awake
The slumb'ring senses, light the eye, and give
The joyless heart a resting-place at last
For all its warm affections; yet whose course
Is not with our's; whose brightness does but glad
Each lonely spot, to make that spot more lone,
When it has passed away. 'Twas thus with us.
We twined our lightsome hearts with love's fresh wreaths,
And cherished each young heart as young hearts can.
How should we dream of change? and yet it came;
We parted, and stern time brought, on his dark,
Dull wings, our meed of care; and on our souls
He cast his lights and shadows; but he brought
No change of love for thee! I loved thee best
When there was left but memory of thee here!
Time hath passed by to rob us of some joys,
To cast a saddened shade upon each brow;
But he hath scattered pleasures in his flight,
Hath lighted once again the eye with mirth;
Hath given gladness to repay these pangs;
Hath brought thee back to joy our hearts at last!
And dearest, may his hand, as on he flies,
Be gently laid on thy still laughing brow;
Sweeping no trace, save that of sorrow thence,
Leaving but lightly there its blighting touch,
Turning care from thee; and above all these,
Granting our Jove's fresh wreaths may yet bloom on,
Where they were twined in childhood's happy days,
Where they have clung so trustingly erewhile,
Where they will cling till our life's sun hath set.
R. A.
There bursts a kindred spirit, to awake
The slumb'ring senses, light the eye, and give
The joyless heart a resting-place at last
For all its warm affections; yet whose course
Is not with our's; whose brightness does but glad
Each lonely spot, to make that spot more lone,
When it has passed away. 'Twas thus with us.
We twined our lightsome hearts with love's fresh wreaths,
And cherished each young heart as young hearts can.
How should we dream of change? and yet it came;
We parted, and stern time brought, on his dark,
Dull wings, our meed of care; and on our souls
He cast his lights and shadows; but he brought
No change of love for thee! I loved thee best
When there was left but memory of thee here!
Time hath passed by to rob us of some joys,
To cast a saddened shade upon each brow;
But he hath scattered pleasures in his flight,
Hath lighted once again the eye with mirth;
Hath given gladness to repay these pangs;
Hath brought thee back to joy our hearts at last!
And dearest, may his hand, as on he flies,
Be gently laid on thy still laughing brow;
Sweeping no trace, save that of sorrow thence,
Leaving but lightly there its blighting touch,
Turning care from thee; and above all these,
Granting our Jove's fresh wreaths may yet bloom on,
Where they were twined in childhood's happy days,
Where they have clung so trustingly erewhile,
Where they will cling till our life's sun hath set.
R. A.