Birth Day Fancies

Girl and woman—Summer, blooming
     On the Spring's exulting green !
All thy vague loves deepening to the human
     Bless the maid of blithe NINETEEN.

Up the ladder, glad and gladder, 
     Up on girlhood's latest round,
Yet the future looks not any sadder, 
     Nor less green the dasied ground.

Dandelions—cowslip scions,
     Sweet child blooms, are still in reach, 
With lithe-wind flowers that a meek defiance 
     Of chill winter, humbly teach.

While rich pansies, graver fancies 
     Shake into thy forward hand,
As thy step to womanhood advances, 
     Whose deep sky is soft and grand.

Life behind thee cannot find thee
     Any brighter spot than now;
For its white arms purely yet surround thee,
     Still a happy child art thou.

Life before thee is a glory,—
     A rich field in golden mist,—
A glad-opening and well-ending story—
     A high tower by sunshine kiss't.

But I read ye, gentle Lady!
     Hills beyond that misty veil
Rise up steeply, where a foot-palm steady, 
     And such only can prevail.

Pages sorry in that story
     Will unmix and mar its plot;
Storms will shake that tower in splinters o'er thee,
     If the " Rock" sustain thee not.

Yet the present is made pleasant, 
     Not in vain, nor for a mock,
Joy's young blooms are Heaven's fruitage nascent,
     Fullest bears, the liveliest stalk.

Heed her proffers, when youth offers 
     Simple pleasure's mantling cup;
Left too soon, defrauded nature suffers;
     Drink then all her gladness up.

Our young mirth is, what to earth is 
     The wild glee of Summer rain,
That in Autumn fields a sober worth is,
     A rich bliss of fruit and grain.

Twice 'tis given to touch Heaven 
     With the white hand of our soul;
Once when childhood's beamy car is driven 
     From the Morning's glittering goal,

And once more, as wheeled victorious
     To the sunset courts afar,
Where its splendor flashes round and o'er us, 
     From the gate just swung ajar.

In the day-spring on the spray sing 
     Birds, and joy sings in the heart.
Then hot noon melts every bubble play-thing
     Where her jealous eye can dart.

But the blushing eve comes hushing
     Day's tumultuous din of work-
When anew bird-songs and bliss come rushing
     Clear through all the star-cleft murk.

The two twilights, are the highlights 
     That with softened beams illume
All the darkness, and the fierce noon's sky light, 
     Mellow, with thought, to slumbrous gloom.

We remember all Life's Ember-
     tides, for food of after thought;
Frailest spring-flowers gladden dull December
     In our souls as beauty wrought.

And the tripping fancies slipping
     Out of thy young brain to-day,
Will return when winter frosts are nipping
     Slowly thy brown locks away.

What is true to love and duty
     Then shall make thy life complete, 
Rounded to a whole harmonious beauty,
     Its cool sunset shall be sweet.