Poems (Craik)/The Garden-Chair

by Dinah Maria Craik

THE GARDEN-CHAIR.

TWO PORTRAITS.

PLEASANT picture, full of meanings deep,
Old age, calm sitting in the July sun,
On withered hands half-leaning—feeble hands,
That after their life-labors, light or hard,
Their girlish broideries, their marriage-ringed
Domestic duties, their sweet cradle cares,
Have dropped into the quiet-folded ease
Of fourscore years. How peacefully the eyes
Face us! Contented, unregretful eyes,
That carry in them the whole tale of life
With its one moral—"Thus all was—thus best."
Eyes now so near unto their closing mild
They seem to pierce direct through all that maze,
As eyes immortal do.

As eyes immortal do. Here—Youth. She stands
Under the roses, with elastic foot
Poised to step forward; eager-eyed, yet grave
Beneath the mystery of the unknown To-come,
Though longing for its coming. Firm prepared
(So say the lifted head and close, sweet mouth)
For any future: though the dreamy hope
Throned on her girlish forehead, whispers fond,
"Surely they err who say that life is hard;
Surely it shall not be with me as these."

God knows: He only. And so best, dear child,
Thou woman-statured, sixteen-year-old child,
Meet bravely the impenetrable Dark
Under thy roses. Bud and blossom thou
Fearless as they—if thou art planted safe,
Whether for gathering or for withering, safe
In the King's garden.