Harry | Page 2

man!?Happy the man and the woman who take?Humbly their crown for the dear angels' sake!
Love in our hearts giving strength to endure,?Eternal itself, makes eternity sure;?Earth growing perfect, unspeakably dear,?Only makes heaven seem yet more near.
Why do I tremble in fanciful doubt??All things--or nothing--had brought it about;?Whatever might happen, I must be his;?What signifies talking_, since _so it is?
So there came the last of the careless days:?Did time in the very same manner move??(My heart almost stops in a mute amaze?To think that it ever was not in love.)
Up in the morning, as gay as a lark,?With a glad good-bye to the pleasant night;?Without an idea I am in the dark,?Or that just beyond is the real light;
Running down stairs, with a laugh as I ran,?Free as 'the blossom that hangs on the bough'--?I never had given a thought to a man,?And why in the world should I give one now.
Dancing along through the hawthorn-crown'd lane,?'Neath showers of flowers whose name I bear,?Was it not strange I should find Harry Vane?Coming to meet me just then and just there?
Is it for this our two lives have been led,?Each travelling on its different way,?To meet with the blue sky over our head?Shaded by delicate blossoms of may?
Little reck'd I whom I happened to meet,?That I had a lover I never guess'd,?As I danc'd along with my careless feet,?And the heart of a child within my breast.
I had seen him a dozen times before,?With a pleasure that brought no sudden change;?I knew that he lik'd me--but nothing more:?O Harry! to think of it is so strange!
Sauntering on with the birds and the flowers,?Talking of things that we know or we knew--?Of the pretty wishes that once were ours?In long-ago times when our years were few:
A wild little bird skims rapidly by;?And I tell of a day when my heart was stirr'd,?And I cried as only a child can cry,?That I was a girl instead of a bird.
'And oh!' in an eager manner I cried,?'I am feeling the very same wish to-day:?Oh for two wild wings, and to spread them wide,?And rush through the sky away and away.'
I cast up my eyes, to the smiling skies,?And smiling I lower'd their glance again,?And as they were lower'd they met his eyes,?And a thrill went through me of sweetest pain.
I blush'd when I thought of my eager words--?But why do I blush? and why do I care??What does it matter to me and the birds,?Or the pretty blossoms or scented air?
'And I,' he replied, 'have my wishes too:?Time teaches the real meaning of things;?And only this moment, looking at you,?I felt that an angel need not have wings.'
We had sauntered on to the garden gate:?He look'd in my eyes ere we turn'd to part:?I walk'd away in a manner sedate,?And with something new just touching my heart.
When the first violet open'd in bloom,?Was it surpris'd at its lovely perfume??Why does not History tell us, who met?First, the sweet breath of the first violet??Rather I'd know it than facts that are known--?As when some tyrant ascended some throne,?A battle was fought, a comet display'd,?Coals were discover'd, or steam-engines made.
I can no moment recall, ere I knew?Perfume pertain'd to those blossoms of blue;?Had the first knowledge of sweetness like this?Touch'd me to-day, what perfection of bliss!?Children with all that creation can grant?Scarcely will miss the one pleasure I want,?Just to remember the day and the hour?When, by spring breezes caressingly blown,?Delicate fragrance of violet flower?First touch'd my senses, becoming my own!
And what can it be--oh, what can it be,?That has garnish'd earth with a golden grace??What is this something that entering me?Changes my life in a minute of space?
When I first notic'd the power in his eyes--?Watching to see if they praise or condemn,?Blushing to meet them--came into the skies?Beauty that never has vanish'd from them.
When I first stopp'd in the midst of my mirth,?While my heart beat in a tremulous way?Only to see him,--came over the earth,?Glory that earth has retain'd to this day.
When the first whisper assaulted my ear,?When the first pressure astonish'd my hand,?When I first fancied that _I_ might be dear--?Life was a miracle joyous and grand.
When he first woo'd me with prayers, for his own,?Suddenly came an eclipse of the light:?Sighing, I wish'd he would let me alone;?Smiling, I long'd to hide out of his sight.
Life being lit by a fairy-like gleam,?Sparkling and glittering, tender and pure,?Was not he stupid to change such a dream?Into reality tame and secure?
'Tis sweet to find I am wrong in the thought,?Joy is but brighter for being confess'd;?Every moment has happiness brought,?Every stage of true love is the best.
They wish me at home to sit and to sew--?And I like to do what my aunt thinks right--?But the stitching never seem'd half so slow,?Nor zigzagg'd itself