The sighs which Matthew heaved were sighs Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup -Thou soul of God's best earthly mould ! That these two words of glittering gold THE FOUNTAIN, A CONVERSATION. Composed 1799 Published 1800. We talked with open heart, and tongue A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fountain broke, And gurgled at our feet. "Now, Matthew!" said I, "let us match This water's pleasant tune With some old Border song, or catch, That suits a summer's noon; Or of the church clock and the chimes Sing here beneath the shade, That half-mad thing of witty rhymes In silence Matthew lay, and eyed, "No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears; How merrily it goes! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. Thus fares it still in our decay : And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind. The blackbird amid leafy trees, The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free : But we are pressed by heavy laws; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own; My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved." "Now both himself and me he wrongs, I live and sing my idle songs And, Matthew, for thy children dead At this he grasped my hand, and said, We rose up from the fountain-side; Of the green sheep-track did we glide; And, ere we came to Leonard's rock, About the crazy old church-clock, THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS. Composed 1799. Published 1800. WE walked along, while bright and red And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said, "The will of God be done!" A village schoolmaster was he, As blithe a man as you could see On a spring holiday. And on that morning, through the grass, And by the steaming rills, We travelled merrily, to pass A day among the hills. "Our work," said I, was well begun ; Then, from thy breast what thought, So sad a sigh has brought?" A second time did Matthew stop; Upon the eastern mountain-top, 1 "Yon cloud with that long purple cleft A day like this which I have left And on that slope of springing corn The self-same crimson hue, Fell from the sky, that April morn, The same which now I view. With rod and line I sued the sport Which that sweet season gave, And, to the churchyard come, stopped short Beside my daughter's grave. Nine summers had she scarcely seen, The pride of all the vale; And then she sang ;-she would have been A very nightingale. Six feet in earth my Emma lay; And yet I loved her more, For so it seemed, than till that day I e'er had loved before. And turning from her grave, I met, A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet A basket on her head she bare; No fountain from its rocky cave There came from me a sigh of pain I looked at her, and looked again : Not long your pastime to prevent; Our common Friend and Father sent. (16) |