Poems (Chitwood)/Stanzas

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

For works with similar titles, see Stanzas.

STANZAS.

Spring has come, the air is ringing
 With the songs of many birds;
Oh, their melody is bringing
 Thoughts of long forgotten words.
All the woods are bright before me,
 Fragrant with the breath of flowers;
But a sudden spell is o'er me,
 As I count the weeping hours.

Fondly are the vine leaves twining
 Round the distant garden wall;
I can see the silver shining
 O'er the flashing water-fall;
I can feel the south winds coming,
 Blowing folded buds apart;
I can hear the sweet bees humming
 In the daisy's golden heart.

Then the scenes more faintly glimmer
 Through the mists of gathering tears,
Then Hope's star grows dim and dimmer,
 Through the clouds of doubts and fears.
Many thousand miles divide us,
 Perils of the land and sea,
Many evils may betide us,
 E're our hands enclasped may be.

In my dreams I hear thee sighing
 For the wooing visions fled;
In my dreams I see thee dying,
 Only strangers by thy bed.
Oh, the sorrow and privation,
 Oh! the anguish all untold,
Oh! the strong power of temptation,
 In the mighty land of gold!

This it is that gilds my sorrow
 With a denser, darker ray;
This it is that makes to morrow
 But a shadow of to-day.
Oh, the Spring is dark and dreary!
 What to me the buds and flowers?
I am heart-sick, I am weary,
 As I count the lonesome hours.

I can see the pearly glitter
 Of the dew upon the leaves,
I can hear the softened twitter
 Of the young birds 'neath the eaves.
But my soul is voiceless, tuneless,
 All is discord to mine ear;
Oh! my life is starless, moonless,
 When thou art no longer near.