THE MAID OF LINDEN LANE.
Reading edition
WHAT THE OLD WOMAN SAID TO THE SCHOOL-GIRL.
———
BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
———
Little maiden, you may laugh
That you see me wear a staff!
For your laughter’s but the chaff
From the melancholy grain!
Through the shadows long and cool
You are tripping down to school,
But your teacher’s cloudy rule
Only dulls the shining pool
With its loud and stormy rain!
There’s a higher lore to learn
Than his knowledge can discern;
There’s a valley deep and dern
In a desolate domain!
But for this he has no chart!
Shallow science—shallow art!
Thither—oh be still my heart—
One too many did depart
From the halls of Linden Lane!
I can teach you better things;
For I know the secret springs
Where the spirit wells and sings
Till it overflows the brain!
Come when eve is closing in,
When the spiders all begin,
Like philosophers, to spin
Gilded tissues vain and thin
Through the shades of Linden Lane.
While you sit as in a trance,
Where the moon-made shadows dance,
From the distaff of Romance
I will spin a silken skein!
Down the misty years gone by
I will turn your azure eye;
You shall see the changeful sky
Falling dark or hanging high
O’er the halls of Linden Lane!
Come, and sitting by the trees,
O’er the long and level leas,
Stretched between us and the seas,
I can point the battle-plain:
If the air comes from the shore
We may hear the billows roar;
But oh! never, nevermore
Shall the wind come as of yore
To the halls of Linden Lane!
Those were weary days of wo,
Ah! yes, many years ago,
When a cruel foreign foe
Sent his fleets across the main!
Though all this is in your books,
There are countless words and looks,
Which, like flowers in hidden nooks,
Or the melody of brooks,
There’s no volume can retain!
Come, and if the night be fair,
And the moon be in the air,
I can tell you when and where
Walked a tender loving twain:
Though it cannot be, alas!
Yet, as in a magic glass,
We will sit and see them pass
Through the long and rustling grass
At the foot of Linden Lane!
Yonder did they turn and go,
Through the level lawn below,
With a stately step and slow,
And long shadows in their train:
Weaving dreams no thoughts could mar
Down they wandered long and far,
Gazing toward the horizon’s bar
On their love’s appointed star,
Rising in the Lion’s Mane.
As across a summer sea,
Love passed o’er the quiet lea,
Light as only love may be,
Freighted with no care or pain.
Such the night; but with the morn
Brayed the distant bugle horn!
Louder! louder! still ’twas borne!
Then were anxious faces worn
In the halls of Linden Lane!
With the trumpet’s nearer bray,
Saw we arms and banners gay
Flashing but a league away,
Stretching far along the plain!
Neighing answer to the call
Burst our chargers from the stall;
Mounted, here they leaped the wall,
There the stream! While in the hall
Eyes were dashed with sudden rain!
Belted for the fiercest fight,
And with swimming plume of white,
Passed the lover out of sight
With the hurrying host amain!
Then the thunders of the gun
On the shuddering breezes run;
And the clouds o’erswept the sun
Till the heavens hung dark and dun
O’er the halls of Linden Lane!
Few that joined the fiery fray
Lived to tell how went the day;
But that few could proudly say
How the foe had fled the plain!
Long the maiden’s eyes did yearn
For her cavalier’s return;
But she watched alone to learn
That the valley deep and dern
Was her desolate domain!
Leave your books awhile apart;
For they cannot teach the heart!
Come, and I will show the chart
Which shall make the mystery plain!
I can tell you hidden things
Which your knowledge never brings;
For I know the secret springs
Where the spirit wells and sings
Till it overflows the brain.
Ah, yes, lightly sing and laugh,
Half a child and woman half;
For your laughter’s but the chaff
From the melancholy grain!
And, ere many years shall fly,
Age will dim your laughing eye,
And like me you’ll totter by;
For, remember, love, that I
Was the Maid of Linden Lane!