Читать книгу Poems - Julia C. R. Dorr - Страница 42

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How beautiful was earth that day! The far blue sky had not a cloud; The river rippled on its way, Singing sweet songs aloud.

The delicate beauty of the spring Pervaded all the murmuring air; It touched with grace the meanest thing And made it very fair.

The blithe birds darted to and fro, The bees were humming round the hive, So happy in that radiant glow! So glad to be alive!

And I? My heart was calmly blest. I knew afar the war-cloud rolled Lurid and dark, in fierce unrest, Laden with woes untold.

But on that day my fears were stilled; The very air I breathed was joy; The rest and peace my soul that filled Had nothing of alloy.

I took the flower he loved the best, The arbutus,—fairest child of May,— And with its perfume half oppressed, Twined many a lovely spray

About his picture on the wall; His eyes were on me all the while, And when I had arranged them all I thought he seemed to smile.

O Christ, be pitiful! That hour Saw him fall bleeding on the sod; And while I toyed with leaf and flower His soul went up to God!

For him one pang—and then a crown; For him the laurels heroes wear; For him a name whose long renown Ages shall onward bear.

For me the cross without the crown; For me the drear and lonely life; O God! My sun, not his, went down On that red field of strife.