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278 ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH. The small brown seed that rattled down On the cold autumnal earth, Is bursting from its cerements forth, Rejoicing in its birth; The slender spears of pale green grass Are smiling in the light; The clover opes its folded leaves, As though it felt delight. The robin sings on the leafless tree, And upward turns his eye, As if he loved to see the drops Come filtering down the sky; No doubt he longs the bright green leaves About his home to see, And feel the swaying summer winds Play in the full-robed tree. The cottage door is open wide, And cheerful sounds are heard; The young girl sings at the merry wheel A song like the wildwood bird; The creeping child by the old worn sill Peers out with winking eye, And his ringlets parts with his chubby hand, As the drops come spattering by. With bounding heart beneath the sky The truant boy is out, And hoop and ball are darting by, With many a merry shout; Ay. shout away, ye joyous throng! For yours is the April day; I love to your spirits dance, Is your pure and healthful play. ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH. 279 LOVE DEAD. The lady sent him an image of Cupid, one wing veiling his face. He was pleased therent, thinking it to be Love sleeping, and betokened the tenderness of the sentiment. He looked again and saw it was Love dead and laid upon his bier. This morn with trembling I awoke, Just as the dawn my slumber broke: Flapping came a heavy wing, sounding pinions o'er my head, Beating down the blessed air with a weight of chilling dread— Felt I then the presence of a doom That an Evil occupied the room— And I dared not round the bower, Chilly in the grayish morning, Dared not face the evil power, With its voice of inward warning. Vain with weakness we may palter— Vainly may the fond heart falter, Came there upon my soul, dropping down like leaden weight, Burning pang or freezing pang, which I know not 't was so great; Life hath its moments black unnumbered, I knew not if mine eyes had slumbered, Yet I little thought such pain Ever to have known again— Love dies, too, when Faith is dead, Yesternight Faith perished. I knew that Love could never change— That Love should die seems yet more strange- Lifting up the downy veil, screening Love within my heart, Beating there as beat my pulse, moving like myself a part— I had kept him cherished there so deep, Heart-rocked kept him in bis balmy sleep,
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:46:33
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 09:56:07