I took her up and once more That wearied me of old. I wandered, and I wandered, In the dim, dying daylight, I saw the Virgin Mother I knelt down there in silence, I laid my wailing burden, And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel, With wings both wide and strong. She watches me from Heaven With loving tender care, And one day she has promised That I shall find her there. DISCOURAGED. HERE the little babbling streamlet Trickling through soft velvet mosses, Almost hid from sight; Vowed I with delight,— "River, I will follow thee, Through thy wanderings to the Sea!" Gleaming 'mid the purple heather, Downward then it sped, Glancing through the mountain gorges, Like a silver thread, As it quicker fled, Louder music in its flow, Dashing to the Vale below. Then its voice grew lower, gentler, And its pace less fleet, Just as though it loved to linger Round the rushes' feet, As they stooped to meet Their clear images below, Broken by the ripples' flow. Purple Willow-herb bent over To her shadow fair; Meadow-sweet, in feathery clusters, Perfumed all the air; Silver-weed was there, And in one calm, grassy spot, Starry, blue Forget-me-not. Tangled weeds, below the waters, Broader grew the flowing River Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays, The blue sky, I think, Was no bluer than that stream, Slipping onward, like a dream. Quicker, deeper then it hurried, But I said, "It should grow calmer Ere it meets the Sea, The wide purple Sea, Which I weary for in vain, Wasting all my toil and pain." But it rushed still quicker, fiercer, In its rocky bed, Hard and stony was the pathway To my tired tread; "I despair," I said, "Of that wide and glorious Sea That was promised unto me." So I turned aside, and wandered |