  1850= ——. Robert Burns Wilson was born in Washington County, Pennsylvania, but removed early to Frankfort, Kentucky, where he devoted himself to landscape painting. Some of his pictures attracted attention at the New Orleans Exposition, 1884. His poems have appeared in magazines and have been much admired for their musical flow of deep feeling and fancy. WORKS.Life And Love: Poems. FAIR DAUGHTER OF THE SUN.(From Life and Love. Hail! daughter of the sun! White-robed and fair to see, where goest thou now In haste from thy spiced garden? Hath thy brow, Crowned with white blooms, begun To grow a-weary of its flagrant wreath, And do thy temples long to ache beneath A gilded, iron crown? Tak’st thou the glint of Mammon’s glittering car To be the gleam of some new-risen star— Yond clamor, for renown? Stay, lovely one, oh stay! Within thy gates, love-garlanded, remain: For love this Mammon seeks not, but for gain— He is the same alway. This god in burnished tinsel, as of old, Cares for no music save of clinking gold— All else to him is vain: His heart is flint, his ears are dull as lead; A crown of care he bringeth for thy head, And for thy wrists a chain. Bide thou, oh goddess, stay! Even in the gateway turn! The orange tree Keeps still her snowy wreath of love for thee; The jasmine’s starry spray Still waves thee back: O South! thy glory lies In thine own sacred fields. There shall arise Thy day, which fadeth not: There—patient hands shall fill thy cup with wine, There—hearts devoted, make thy name divine, Their own hard fate forgot. DEDICATION.—SONNET.TO ELIZABETH, MY MOTHER. The green Virginian hills were blithe in May, And we were plucking violets—thou and I. A transient gladness flooded earth and sky; Thy fading strength seemed to return that day, And I was mad with hope that God would stay Death’s pale approach—Oh! all hath long passed by! Long years! long years! and now, I well know why Thine eyes, quick-filled with tears, were turned away. First loved; first lost; my mother: time must still Leave my soul’s debt uncancelled. All that’s best In me and in my art is thine:—Me-seems Even now, we walk afield. Through good and ill, My sorrowing heart forgets not, and in dreams, I see thee, in the sun-lands of the blest. FOOTNOTE: |
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