▲ DAUGHTER'S GIFT TO HER FATHER, &c. 207
That outward beauty, which all flowers disclose,
While opening first the freshness of their hues,
To smile with rapture in the radiant sun,
And with external loveliness entice
The passing throng to linger and admire!—
But that sweet love, which look'd minutely on,
But smiles the more intrinsically sweet,
Diffusing innate worth with bashfulness,
Like the chaste rose-bud in the dew-bright morn!
She heard her father of his birth-day speak,
While in kind converse with a faithful friend;
Heard him, in joyful sadness, too, relate
His boyish feuds; his playfulness and mirth.
And, at each pause, remember some one lost
In the dark shadows of an early grave!
Whose buoyant spirit added joy and life
To every ramble o'er the verdant lawn ;
Who also roused him in the balmy morn,
When shade and sunshine fell like bliss around;
Thus fond recalling, from oblivion's womb,
The long-lost gems that sleep unnoticed there;
208 A DAUGHTER'S GIFT TO HER FATHER,
Musing with retrospection on the past,
When youth walk'd like a sunbeam among flowers!
'Twas thus she watch'd him, though he knew it not,
With an inquiring glance that deeply scans
The latent language of the loving breast;
Learning that he who laugh'd at boyish sports,-
At all the sinless mischiefs of that age,
Had not forgot, he was himself a child,
And, therefore, could forgive her little faults,
And smile on them, as now upon his own!
She formed a wish, a secret of her own! The life of which lay in concealing it!
And, as the youthful bosom soon expands,
The warm idea, as it sprung to birth,
Was almost too puissant for her soul,
So wing'd it was with gladness and with love!
Yet, did she struggle with its eager wings,
Until she bound each golden pinion down!
Slow wander'd aged Time with feeble step,
As though, grown weary of his ancient reign-
He ne'er would bring the happy birth-day round!
Meantime the tiny purse was valued o'er
Day after day, and as the sum increased,
So also magnified the glowing wish,
To make the offering greater, and when night
With soothing fingers closed her starry eyes,
Bright visions filled the palace of her mind,
Too pure, too fleet, too exquisite to leave
A meteor-memory of their passive bliss,
All blazing forth the gift of gratitude-
Sweet gratitude! the noblest love the soul
Can give for its salvation!
Her gentle thoughts dwelt on the great result,
And as she walk'd abroad inquiringly,
Too many objects met her longing look,
Above her measured means!
Fix'd at the extent of all her treasure, too,—
Purchased the gift, conceal'd it carefully,
And when the birth-day of her father came,
Rush'd to him, with the ardour of a child,
And placed the priceless present in his hands.
"Twas not the intrinsic value of the gift,
That made it princely, precious and esteem'd!
But the endear'd affection of his child,
Which trill'd the silver strings around the heart!—
Then roll'd a tear of gladness from his eye,
Which wash'd away each care she e'er incurr'd!
THOU peaceful land! in cloudless youth
I sought thy pebbly shore,
And ever since, a charm like truth,
Has flash'd my memory o'er!
Yes, fancy, with her dream-like power,
Oft brought thee forth to view;
With every flated plant and flower,—
Impearl'd with early dew!
Now walk I on thy strand again;
Beside thy loved Lochgaer;
And feeling links me with her chain,
To thine enchantments rare!
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