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Heather Bloom

Heather Bloom image
Parent Issue
Day
1
Month
October
Year
1875
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

"Whn aiiíunm brcozep erisply blow Anti autumn sunn are mellow, Wben maple leavea begin to glow, And all tlio woodl&nd fpacut ehow, Their pomp of red aud yellow. l IJdrop my knittiug on my kueep, I fold my bands together, And far bcjond Ihe maple trees, And far aerons the rolling seas, I pmell tbc moorland heathrr. The purple heather, blown nbont By warm wiuds off the border - Ah, me ! what mcniorieB blossom oui, What ofdered thoughts are put to rout In trenmloua disorder - By jupt ii t-olor in tlio air," An atiiioHplicric glamor- Thai, piiitc of wrinliïes and ffray halr, Una fïirüled old heart-beats xmawaro Wit ti ncw and noiHy clamor. Flist love is sweet. It cawio to ine In brerzj aatmnn wvather; ActOM thr moor the wind swept free, Warm Bhooe the gun where l and ho Wat knee-deep in the tphT A wavmp, tragrant soa, it ppread All round in pnrple splendor ; White clouds went sailing overln kI, A lark was eoaring, when he eaitl u I love yov," low and Under. I wonde red, dnmb with glad surprise - Could I have heard him clearly ? Hfi aaw the blisKfnl color ríee, lic drew me, kleeing lip and eyps - " Tou know f love you dëarlpr And carth and aky seetoed ochoing Those words of pwectest meaning ; The blackcock trilied Ihcin on the wiag, The, very bloppoms seemed to riugf While, on hie bosom leaning, I built the airy towers that yoiïth Can fashion bo snbliniely ; Nor dreamed how love would end in nith, For joy that had no root in truth, And hope that died untiniely. Hifi grave was made long yeara ago Beneath his Engüwli willowB ; For me the eca riet ma pies glow, And everoiore between us flow The widc Atlantic billovs. My life hs had its phare of gain, No lees perhaps than loeees ; lts pleaKure haj alloy of pain, Bat haply I have learned to train Some flowers around my crosses. Aud wtill, when maple bonghs are red In breezy autunxn weather, Once more the moorland flays I tread ; Once more I hear the words he euid That day amone the heather.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus