A CHILD'S FANCY. I HAVE built a rushen boat, Freighted it with precious things,With the daisy's silver sheen, Kingcups, with their golden hue, Violets of tenderest blue, Beetles, in their jewelled coats, And a golden dragon-fly, With sapphire crest and diamond eye, Shall my pilot be. Evening now o'er field and glen Slowly draws her mantle damp; But a glow-worm, if 'tis dark, And this plumy butterfly . I have heard my mother say, So, when mine comes back from sea, For my mother, berries sweet Then shall bring my bonny boat; For my father, fill her hold With ripe corn, like grains of gold, "Till she scarce can float. For my brother, acorns, nuts, Ah! she strikes on unseen rocks! Quivers - plunges then goes down: Every surging wave doth hold Blooms of silver or of gold On its ripples thrown. Gone her captain; far away Doth her faithless pilot flee; Only 'mid the waters dark Gleams once more the glow-worm's spark, Then sinks beneath the sea. Where are all my treasures gone? I can build another boat, But, alas! for those who risk On the perilous deep All their gold of hands or heart, 'Neath the waves to sleep. Many keep a weary watch Through the world's incessant din, With straining eyes and outstretched hands, Bravely, when they leave the shore, Many tempests lie between, And how few come home! Angels, keeping solemn watch O'er all wandering barks that roam Frances F. Broderip, (daughter of Tom Hood.) A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. WHAT eyes you have, you wild gazelle o' the plain ! You fierce hind o' the forest! now they flash, Now glow; now in their own dark down-dropped shade Conceal themselves a moment, as some thought, Too brief to be a feeling, flits across The April cloudland of your careless soul There that light laugh- and 'tis full, sun-full day. Would I could paint you, line by line, ere Time Among his brethren, yet so fitly framed Never "How tall!" but only "O, how fair!" Woman, upon whom is laid Heaven's own sign-manual, Beauty, mock Heaven not! |