Snowflakes Part 4

Weary of his griefs and empty show, To the quiet woods alone I love to go, And in sweet repose abide Where the sylvan echoes ride On October's drowsy winds that whisper low.

Where the bonnie squirrel flits among the trees, And the quail his piping flings upon the breeze, Where the gold and brown leaves quiver O'er the winding, osiered river, Bearing on its soft, low music to the seas.

And the forest oak, so grand, majestic, high, With his rainbow-mantled branches woos the sky, And the wind a fairy story Breathing o'er the maple's glory, Brings it down in twirling crimson showers, where lie

Many springtime flowers, fast asleep, Spreading over them a cover warm and deep; And the sunlight glints and spangles Through the wild and woody tangles, Where alone the eye of G.o.d doth vigils keep.

Standing there on wild, leaf-covered sod, Where perhaps no human foot before hath trod My storm-tossed soul is blest In a halo of sweet rest, All alone within the crimson wood with G.o.d.

TO A VIOLET.

Violet, sweet violet, Of modest, dainty grace, Why dost thou hide among the gra.s.s Thy pretty velvet face?

Thine eyes are filled with dew, thy breath Makes sweet the air of spring; Thy whispers low, sweet memories Of other springtimes bring.

Sweet olden, golden springtimes, When bluebirds sang so gay, As I plucked thy sister blossoms From a woodland far away,

With her, whose eyes, in color, Sweet flow'r, were just like you, And like you grew in radiance From drinking heaven's blue.

Each spring, as lisping children, As romping schoolgirls, too, Our feet were bathed in violet banks That dripped with melting dew;

Our souls were bathed in bliss divine, As all day long we basked In sweet and fragrant winds we knew Had kissed them as they pa.s.sed.

But when the summer sun shone hot, Their slender stems were dried; Their modest heads bent lower, and Their fragrant blossoms died;

And could we pierce to-day the blue Of heaven's dome so fair, Methinks we'd see them blooming in Celestial glory there!

Culled by our angel Emma, In a rapturous clime, that lies In the radiant, springtime glory Of the fields of Paradise!

GOLDEN DAYS.

SONG.

(To my sister Emma.)

I've just seen the first robin of spring, Emma, And he's warbling a sweet little song, Bringing back tender mem'ries of you, Emma, And of joys that to childhood belong.

He was singing a song to his mate, Emma, A sweet song of happiness and love, And it echoed thro' woodland and dale, Emma, Over valley and hilltop and grove.

CHORUS:

Oh, those happy, happy days gone by, Emma, Their memory is ever dear to me; Oh, those old golden, glorious days, Emma, When I played 'mong the flowers with thee.

Bringing back tender mem'ries of you, Emma, When life seemed only a song, Holding neither a sorrow nor tear, Emma, As we played 'mong the flowers all day long.

We gathered the mosses and ferns, Emma, The cowslips and violets so blue, And the crab-apple blossoms so sweet, Emma, And the sweet, mellow May-apple, too.

CHORUS.

You remember the old apple-tree, Emma, With its wide-spreading branches o'erhead?

Such perfume I have never since found, Emma, As its sweet, fragrant blossoms did shed.

But now we are far, far apart, Emma, The sunny days of childhood are o'er, But we'll roam hand in hand 'mong the flowers, Emma, That bloom on the Bright Golden Sh.o.r.e.

CHORUS.

BABY MINE.

Tired of laughter, tired of play, Baby mine, On my breast thy tresses lay, Baby mine.

Cooing, loving, prattling, too,-- Shine and showers the whole day thro', Tires a bonnie thing like you, Baby mine.

Little violets so blue, Baby mine, Close their eyes now wet with dew, Baby mine, Saying, sweetheart, unto you, Close those orbs of azure hue, Where that glimpse of heaven gleams thro', Baby mine.

Whence that dimpled foot and hand, Baby mine?

Came they here at love's command, Baby mine?

Or did angels, in their flight, Drop this little blossom white On the stream of time one night, Baby mine?

Dimples guard thy crimson lips, Baby mine; Prints of fairy finger-tips, Baby mine.

Now the shade of angel wings Sweet repose upon thee brings,-- Silken soft thy slumberings, Baby mine.

LULLABY.

Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, baby, my dear, Nothing can harm you, for mother is near.

The journey is short, and the stars twinkle bright O'er your path into Byloland, baby, good-night.

Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, baby, my pet, Gra.s.ses that cover your pathway are wet With dewdrops that sparkle like jewels so bright, Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, baby, good-night.

Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, sweetheart of mine, Rest from their prattle those red lips of thine.

Bridges you cross in your Byloland flight Sway to your footsteps, my baby, good-night.

Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, baby, my love, Angels are watching thy cradle above.

Thy feet into Byloland's dreamy delight Have entered, then rest, little pilgrim, good-night.