Legends and Lyrics, Pt 1 | Page 8

the hours sped;
On his
hands so small and trembling
Leaning his poor aching head,
Or,
through dark and painful hours,
Lying sleepless on his bed.
"Dreaming strange and longing fancies

Of cool forests far away;

And of rosy, happy children,
Laughing merrily at play,
Coming

home through green lanes, bearing
Trailing boughs of blooming May.
"Scarce a glimpse of azure heaven
Gleamed above that narrow street,

And the sultry air of Summer
(That you call so warm and sweet)

Fevered the poor Orphan, dwelling
In the crowded alley's heat.
"One bright day, with feeble footsteps
Slowly forth he tried to crawl,

Through the crowded city's pathways,
Till he reached a
garden-wall;
Where 'mid princely halls and mansions
Stood the
lordliest of all.
"There were trees with giant branches,
Velvet glades where shadows
hide;
There were sparkling fountains glancing,
Flowers, which in
luxuriant pride
Even wafted breaths of perfume
To the child who
stood outside.
"He against the gate of iron
Pressed his wan and wistful face,

Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure
At the glories of the place;

Never had his brightest day-dream
Shone with half such wondrous
grace.
"You were playing in that garden,
Throwing blossoms in the air,

Laughing when the petals floated
Downwards on your golden hair;

And the fond eyes watching o'er you,
And the splendour spread
before you,
Told a House's Hope was there.
"When your servants, tired of seeing
Such a face of want and woe,

Turning to the ragged Orphan,
Gave him coin, and bade him go,

Down his cheeks so thin and wasted,
Bitter tears began to flow.
"But that look of childish sorrow
On your tender child-heart fell,

And you plucked the reddest roses
From the tree you loved so well,

Passed them through the stern cold grating,
Gently bidding him
'Farewell!'

"Dazzled by the fragrant treasure
And the gentle voice he heard,
In
the poor forlorn boy's spirit,
Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;
In his
hand he took the flowers,
In his heart the loving word.
"So he crept to his poor garret;
Poor no more, but rich and bright,

For the holy dreams of childhood -
Love, and Rest, and Hope, and
Light -
Floated round the Orphan's pillow
Through the starry
summer night.
"Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;
All too weak to rise he lay;

Did he dream that none spake harshly -
All were strangely kind that
day?
Surely then his treasured roses
Must have charmed all ills
away.
"And he smiled, though they were fading;
One by one their leaves
were shed;
'Such bright things could never perish,
They would
bloom again,' he said.
When the next day's sun had risen
Child and
flowers both were dead.
"Know, dear little one! our Father
Will no gentle deed disdain;

Love on the cold earth beginning
Lives divine in Heaven again,

While the angel hearts that beat there
Still all tender thoughts retain."
So the angel ceased, and gently
O'er his little burthen leant;
While
the child gazed from the shining,
Loving eyes that o'er him bent,
To
the blooming roses by him,
Wondering what that mystery meant.
Thus the radiant angel answered,
And with tender meaning smiled:

"Ere your childlike, loving spirit,
Sin and the hard world defiled,

God has given me leave to seek you -
I was once that little child!"
0. * *
In the churchyard of that city
Rose a tomb of marble rare,
Decked,
as soon as Spring awakened,
With her buds and blossoms fair -
And
a humble grave beside it -
No one knew who rested there.

VERSE: ECHOES
Still the angel stars are shining,
Still the rippling waters flow,
But
the angel-voice is silent
That I heard so long ago.
Hark! the echoes
murmur low,
Long ago!
Still the wood is dim and lonely,
Still the plashing fountains play,

But the past and all its beauty,
Whither has it fled away?
Hark! the
mournful echoes say,
Fled away!
Still the bird of night complaineth,
(Now, indeed, her song is pain,)

Visions of my happy hours,
Do I call and call in vain?
Hark! the
echoes cry again,
All in vain!
Cease, oh echoes, mournful echoes!
Once I loved your voices well;

Now my heart is sick and weary -
Days of old, a long farewell!

Hark! the echoes sad and dreary
Cry farewell, farewell!
VERSE: A FALSE GENIUS
I see a Spirit by thy side,
Purple-winged and eagle-eyed,
Looking
like a Heavenly guide.
Though he seem so bright and fair,
Ere thou trust his proffered care,

Pause a little, and beware!
If he bid thee dwell apart,
Tending some ideal smart
In a sick and
coward heart;
In self-worship wrapped alone,
Dreaming thy poor griefs are grown

More than other men have known;
Dwelling in some cloudy sphere,
Though God's work is waiting here,

And God deigneth to be near;
If his torch's crimson glare
Show thee evil everywhere,
Tainting all

the wholesome air;
While with strange distorted choice,
Still disdaining to rejoice,

Thou WILT hear a wailing voice;
If a simple, humble heart,
Seem to thee a meaner part,
Than thy
noblest aim and art;
If he bid thee bow before
Crowned Mind and nothing more,
The
great idol men adore;
And with starry veil enfold
Sin, the trailing serpent old,
Till his
scales shine out like gold;
Though his words seem true and wise,
Soul, I say to thee--Arise.

He is a Demon in disguise!
VERSE: MY PICTURE
Stand this way--more near the window -
By my desk--you see the
light
Falling on my picture better -
Thus I see