Poems: second series - Page 55 |
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37
Choked with the mingled odours nigh, and sickened with
the fume
Of hot and tainted revel breath, I left the palace room :
I hastened to the harvest fields, I scattered poppy leaves.
And plumed and purified my wings upon the harvest sheaves.
A young child came and stood to gaze on all things bright
and sweet.
The butterfly was round his head, the wild flower at his feet:
I grasped an airy thistle-tuft, I cried, " Come, follow me,"
And off he bounded light and fast, and rare good sport had we.
Full long he strove with all his strength to gain the bubble prize.
As high and low it scudded on and danced before his eyes ;
Until his panting heart became half angry and half sad.
To think he had not caught a thing worth nothing if he had.
At last I blew it into nought, and then the boy stood still,
And found the chace had tired him, as all such chaces will:
But while I lingered round the spot I saw him turn and creep
Beneath a spreading chesnut-tree, and calmly fall asleep.
Man, like the child, will often run in close and fond pursuit
Of what will prove but thistle-down, or yield a bitter fruit;
But, ah! unlike the tired child, 'tis rarely that his breast
Can meet its disappointed hopes with deep unbroken rest.
On to the busy town I went, and fanned the burning brow
That many an hour had fed the loom or faced the furnace glow;
Lips never dimpled with a smile, all tintless, parched and thin,
Parted as I went wafting by and gladly drank me in.
I play'd about the shrivell'd hand, whose hard and fever'd palm
Grew somewhat softer as it felt the cool refreshing balm.
Object Description
| Title | Poems: Second Series |
| Creator | Eliza Cook |
| Date | 1845 |
| Physical Description | xii, 275 p., [1] leaf of plates: port. ; 18 cm. |
| Publisher | London: Simpkin, Marshall, and Co., 1845 |
| Resource Type | Text |
| Call Number | PR4502.A6 1845 |
| Identifier | pr4502_a6_1845 |
| Language | English |
| Custodian | Baylor University - Armstrong Browning Library |
| Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
| Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
| Note | "First edition. Dark green morocco grain cloth, stamped in blind. Miles VII 269-82." -- Bookseller. (E09C). Date is approximate. |
| Format | Books |
Description
| Title | Poems: second series - Page 55 |
| Resource Type | Text |
| Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
| Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
| Full Text | 37 Choked with the mingled odours nigh, and sickened with the fume Of hot and tainted revel breath, I left the palace room : I hastened to the harvest fields, I scattered poppy leaves. And plumed and purified my wings upon the harvest sheaves. A young child came and stood to gaze on all things bright and sweet. The butterfly was round his head, the wild flower at his feet: I grasped an airy thistle-tuft, I cried, " Come, follow me," And off he bounded light and fast, and rare good sport had we. Full long he strove with all his strength to gain the bubble prize. As high and low it scudded on and danced before his eyes ; Until his panting heart became half angry and half sad. To think he had not caught a thing worth nothing if he had. At last I blew it into nought, and then the boy stood still, And found the chace had tired him, as all such chaces will: But while I lingered round the spot I saw him turn and creep Beneath a spreading chesnut-tree, and calmly fall asleep. Man, like the child, will often run in close and fond pursuit Of what will prove but thistle-down, or yield a bitter fruit; But, ah! unlike the tired child, 'tis rarely that his breast Can meet its disappointed hopes with deep unbroken rest. On to the busy town I went, and fanned the burning brow That many an hour had fed the loom or faced the furnace glow; Lips never dimpled with a smile, all tintless, parched and thin, Parted as I went wafting by and gladly drank me in. I play'd about the shrivell'd hand, whose hard and fever'd palm Grew somewhat softer as it felt the cool refreshing balm. |
| Format | Books |
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