Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/590

 574 JAMES R. BARRICK. [1850-60. With a song of joy and gladness Doth the Httle minstrel sing ; And each passing breeze and zephyr Wafts its echo on their wing, Till the air around, above it, Swells with magic murmuring. Bubbling onward like a fountain, Born of melody and song. Like a transient gleam of beauty, Flows the silver stream along — Chanting anthems unto nature — She to whom its notes belong. Hastening onward — onward ever. Like the life that flows in me. As a wave upon the river. Hastening onward to the sea; As a hope the hidden future Scanning for the things to be. Summer storms may o'er it gather. Winds of autumn round it wail — Winter, too, its bosom ruffle, With its icy sleet and hail ; Biit with summer — autumn — winter, Doth its steady flow prevail. Thus life's fountain to its river In a winding current flows, And its river to its ocean Li a channel deeper grows. Till its fountain — river — ocean, In eternity repose. ONE YEAR AGO. A SMILE is on thy lips to-night, A joy is in thine eyes. And on tliy brow there beams a light Tliat with no shadow vies ; I think of days that swift have past, Of pleasures still that flow, *^ And joys tluit have no sorrows cast, Though born one year ago. Tho' spring and summer have come and gone, And winter's here again, We still may view each grove and lawn With sense unmixed with pain ; For in our hearts still brighter grows, The only flame they know. The love that in each bosom glows, Just born one year ago. Our hearts w^ere linked with magic bands, Just wove one year ago. Like waves that meet on ocean's strands. Then back in union flow ; 'Mid winter's gloom, 'mid summer's flowers. We've lived unknown to woe, Yet linked have been with lightwing'd hours. Just born one year ago. No changes yet have crossed our path. No sorrows vailed our eyes, No thunder clouds dissolved in wrath Above our Paradise ; And when the winds ands waves complain. The storms and tempests blow, We'll turn our eyes and hearts again To view one year ago. TO A POET. Thy heart beats to the living heart and pulse, Throbbing with life thro' all the universe. All lovely things are imaged on the leaves Of thy heart's pages — on thine eye and ear Float all the harmonies of sight and sound. Love is to thee as dew unto the flower. As light to day, as sunshine to the earth, Tliy being's light, its hope and destiny; It is the spirit of thy thoughts and dreams. Thy soul's deep passion, and its presence weaves Around thy brow a diadem of flowers, As from thy heart's deep fountains outward flow Its gentle streams in waves of melody.