VII

SPORTS AND PASTIMES

Blowing Bubbles

SEE, the pretty Planet!
Floating sphere!

Faintest breeze will fan it

Far or near;

World as light as feather;

Moonshine rays,

Rainbow tints together,
As it plays;

Drooping, sinking, failing,
Nigh to earth,

Mounting, whirling, sailing,

Full of mirth;

Life there, welling, flowing,
Waving round;

Pictures coming, going,

Without sound.

Swifter and yet more swift,

Till the heart with a mighty lift

Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:—

"O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.

"Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy,
For a golden moment share
Your feathery life in air!"

Say, heart, is there aught like this
In a world that is full of bliss?
'Tis more than skating, bound
Steel-shod to the level ground.

Speed slackens now, I float
Awhile in my airy boat;

Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,

My feet to the treadles fall.

Alas, that the longest hill

Must end in a vale; but still,

Who climbs with toil, wheresoe'er,

Shall find wings waiting there.

HENRY CHARLES BEECHING.

Sports and Pastimes

Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn:
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet-slug-a-bed, and see

The dew-bespangled herb and tree!
Each flower has wept and bowed toward the east,
Above an hour since, yet you not drest,

Nay, not so much as out of bed?

When all the birds have matins said,

Sports and

Pastimes

And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation, to keep in,

Whenas a thousand virgins on this day,
Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the Spring-time fresh and
green,

And sweet as Flora. Take no care

For jewels for your gown or hair:
Fear not; the leaves will strew

Gems in abundance upon you:

Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept.
Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night.
And Titan on the eastern hill

Retires himself, or else stands still

Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying:

Few beads are best, when once we go a Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark
How each field turns a street, each street a park,
Made green, and trimmed with trees! see how
Devotion gives each house a bough

Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this,
An ark, a tabernacle is,

Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,