Poems (Douglas)/Childhood's Pleasures
Childhood's Pleasures.
'Twas a bright summer morn, Dewy pearls layOn the soft blossom'd thorn,Fragrant and gay;Sweetly the rose outspread, And the blue violet's head
Gleam'd 'bove its grassy bed, In the sun's ray.Daisies, like stars of white,Spangled the earth;Streams, in the sunny light, Danced as in mirth,
Brightly meandering, As the bee's wand'ring wingPaused where each scented thing,Blooming, had birth.The lark, from its lowly nest, Springing on high,
Floated, with speckled breast, 'Neath the blue sky; 'Mid the pure ether borne,Hailing the light's return,Off'ring to rosy morn Carols of joy.
In a valley bloom'd many a gem, Lovely and fair:The woodbine, with lithesome stem:, Coil'd itself there;When joyous feet sought the bowers,Tiny hands reach'd the flowers,Bringing down dewy showers, On their bright hair.
A mother's eye fondly dwelt On each glad brow,As she sighed—"Once this bosom felt All they feel now:"A tear fell,—ah! could it be—Could her babes' childish glee,Bursting in purity, Wake aught of woe?
Ah, no! it was mem'ry's eye Turn'd to the timeWhen she view'd, with as wild a joy, Meadows in prime;When those of her mother's hearthJoin'd in her childish mirth—Now all had passed from earth To a bright clime.
"And thus shall it be," she thought— "Thus shall it be,Their eyes shall with tears be fraught, Thinking on me;Yet, my babes, catch the rays,Never, in after days,Beams come like infancy's Unalloyed glee."