THE BIRTH-RIGHT

Whate'er betides, all beauty still is mine, I drink—as did the old gods—of its wine! Though Times should dim my eyes, yet I have seen The hills and hollows gay with gold and green: Roses have charmed me with a dear delight, And Iris brought me joy in cups of white:— For me the fairies hung on bush and tree The marvel of the frost's bright filagree And well I know where at the grey of morn They threaded dew on cob-web, weed and thorn! Lights of the Northern skies—and dancing flames, And flowing seas—your colors have no names! Day-shine across the uplands how you pass Chased by the filmy shadows on the grass! Oh, I have watched the little swallows fly Down silver reaches of the twilight sky— While through the Western gates another day In sweeping golden garments passed away,— I know how morning hastening from afar Catches upon her rose-edged robes a star; And often I have seen at Midnight's hour The blooming of the Moon's gold wonder-flower. O look, look, out upon the lovely earth And take the gift she gave thee at thy birth! Whate'er betides—all beauty still is thine,— Drink deep—as did the old gods—of its wine!