. Pine needles, or Sonnets and songs. ls the air, and hymns Are sung by tender voices. Each maid trimsHer silver lamp, chanting in bitter pain: How came Love slain ? the god-like form lies white And free from wound. There came a sinful slew Amor in all his strength and might— A breath of passion, more terrible than ! desires touch turns day to night. Loves rosy crown to deaths dark-cypress wreath. 13 TO A. C. L. B. As morning sun the rebel mists disperseThat hide Apollos royal countenance,Till doubting dawn, as waking from a trance^Flies day, that smiling oer the univers
. Pine needles, or Sonnets and songs. ls the air, and hymns Are sung by tender voices. Each maid trimsHer silver lamp, chanting in bitter pain: How came Love slain ? the god-like form lies white And free from wound. There came a sinful slew Amor in all his strength and might— A breath of passion, more terrible than ! desires touch turns day to night. Loves rosy crown to deaths dark-cypress wreath. 13 TO A. C. L. B. As morning sun the rebel mists disperseThat hide Apollos royal countenance,Till doubting dawn, as waking from a trance^Flies day, that smiling oer the universeIn one great flood of light doth earth immerse ;So did thy liberal nature in advanceDispel the sullen mists of swift the scorching sands of doubt traverse,Beyond, above, till reached thy soul the height Whence nobler minds look down on toiling men„Cheering their darkness with a steady light,Uplifting bruised hearts, and waiting thenFor their own day to end without the sun then seen will never set. 13. The white-filled nest now hangs an empty ON A NEST FULL OF SNOW. leafless limb an empty nest is left,— Sweet home of singing-life in summer-time,— But restless wings waft swift to milder climeThe chirps and songs of which the trees winter comes ; the frost with fingers deft Fills full with snow the lone, deserted nest, And clothes the naked bough with shining mad March wind swept through the woodland cleftThat laid the ice-bound branches bare again. And made a whirlwind of the drifted snow;But gainst the tiny nest it beat in vain, Nor shook frorn out its depths its load proudly to the skies the tree held upIts frozen wine in moss and twig-biiilt cup. natures quiet beauty or wildest mood,—Of all that charms or startles us,—we findA reflect somewhere in the human mind,Unless we dull our sight with selfs thick empty nest -w^ithin the wintry wood 15 Is like a lonely heart in womankind, W
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1884
