TO THE PAINTED COLUMBINE. BRIGHT image of the early years When glowed my cheek as red as thou, And life's dark throng of cares and fears Were swift-winged shadows o'er my sunny brow! Thou blushest from the painter's page, But Nature's hand in youth's green age The morning's blush, she made it thine, I see the hill's far-gazing head, I hear the voice of woodland song Break from each bush and well-known tree, Comes back the laugh from childhood's heart of glee. O'er the dark rock the dashing brook, And, hastening to each flowery nook, Fair child of art! thy charms decay, When my voice mingled with the streamlet's chime; But on my heart thy cheek of bloom There shalt thou live and wake the glee And when, loved flower! I think of thee, 8 TO THE FOSSIL FLOWER. DARK fossil flower! I see thy leaves unrolled, Its Maker's sovereign voice; and laughing flowers Thou may'st have bloomed unseen, save by the stars That sang together o'er thy rosy birth, And came at eve to watch thy folded rest. None may have sought thee on thy fragrant home, Save light-voiced winds that round thy dwelling played, Or seemed to sigh, as oft their winged haste Compelled their feet to roam. Thou may'st have lived Beneath the light of later days, when man Breaking the solitude of nature's haunt With voice that seemed to blend, in one sweet strain, And when against his infant frame they rose, A glory richer than to proudest king, |