YOUTH. THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST. LITTLE Ellie sits alone By a stream-side, on the grass, And the trees are showering down Doubles of their leaves in shadow On her shining hair and face. She has thrown her bonnet by, And her feet she has been dipping In the shallow water's flow. Now she holds them nakedly In her hands all sleek and dripping, While she rocketh to and fro. Little Ellie sits alone, Fills the silence like a speech, Which shall seem to understand For the world must love and fear him "Then he will arise so pale, I shall feel my own lips tremble With a yes I must not say; Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,' I will utter, and dissemble; 'Light to-morrow with to-day.' "Then he'll ride among the hills To the wide world past the river, There to put away all wrong; To make straight distorted wills, And to empty the broad quiver Which the wicked bear along. "Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain And kneel down beside my feet;'Lo, my master sends this gage, Lady, for thy pity's counting! What wilt thou exchange for it?' "And the first time, I will send A white rosebud for a guerdon, And the second time, a glove; But the third time, I may bend From my pride, and answer, ‘Pardon, If he comes to take my love.' "Then the young foot-page will run, Then my lover will ride faster, Till he kneeleth at my knee: 'I am a Duke's eldest son! Thousand serfs do call me master, But, O Love, I love but thee!' "He will kiss me on the mouth Then, and lead me as a lover Through the crowds that praise his deeds; And, when soul-tied by one troth, Unto him I will discover That swan's nest among the reeds." Little Ellie, with her smile Not yet ended, rose up gayly, Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe, And went homeward, round a mile, Just to see, as she did daily, What more eggs were with the two. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, THE FROST. THE Frost looked forth, one still, clear night, I will not go like that blustering train, Then he went to the mountain, and powdered its crest, "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and He climbed up the trees, and their boughs he Vixen ! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!" So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, He was chubby and plump, -a right jolly old elf; And laying his finger aside of his nose, CLEMENT C. MOORE. dressed With diamonds and pearls, and over the breast A coat of mail, that it need not fear He went to the windows of those who slept, By the light of the moon was seen Most beautiful things. There were flowers and trees, There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees, There were cities, thrones, temples, and towers, and these All pictured in silver sheen! But he did one thing that was hardly fair, Now, just to set them a thinking, A PORTRAIT. HANNAH F. GOULD. "One name is Elizabeth."-- BEN JONSON, I WILL paint her as I see her, And her face is lily-clear, Lily-shaped, and dropped in duty To the law of its own beauty. Oval cheeks encolored faintly, Which a trail of golden hair Keeps from fading off to air; You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your Every tinkle on the shingles has an echo in the changes, How many soever they be, And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he ranges Come over, come over to me. Yet birds' clearest carol by fall or by swelling No magical sense conveys, And bells have forgotten their old art of telling The fortune of future days. heart, And a thousand dreary fancies into busy being start; And a thousand recollections weave their bright hues into woof, As I listen to the patter of the soft rain on the roof. There in fancy comes my mother, as she used to years agone, "Turn again, turn again," once they rang cheerily To survey the infant sleepers ere she left them While a boy listened alone : till the dawn. |