Song

O NEW-FOUND earth! O wondrous birth!
The very grass and clover
Have caught the sense of sweet suspense, —
The mystery brooding over
All life that lies beneath the skies,
When eyelids first uncover;
For old things pass — the world is new
When love is young, and hearts are true.

But hark, but hush! a wakening thrush
Sets all the air a-quiver;
And look! the brook has left its nook
And grown a rushing river;
And buds unclose the perfect rose
To lose in gift the giver!
O green, glad earth! O heavens blue!
When love is grown, and hearts are true.

And now, — what now but weighted bough,
Gold, rubies, without measure,
And scarlet leaf and yellow sheaf
Heap up the royal treasure;
While purpling vine, full-veined with wine,
Thrills with intenser pleasure,
And earth robs heaven of every hue
When love is ripe, and hearts beat true.

Yet stay! although the falling snow
The warm, bright earth is hiding,
Though dull and gray the shortening day
Comes like a sudden chiding,
Full well we know the hearth fire’s glow
In dearest eyes abiding;
For last is best, the whole world through,
When love is tried, and hearts keep true.

E. E. Brown.