Down the green slope he bounded. Raven curls From his white shoulders by the winds were swept, And the clear color of his sunny cheek Was bright with motion. Through his open lips Shone visibly a delicate line of pearl, Like a white vein within a rosy shell, And his dark eye's clear brilliance, as it lay Beneath his lashes, like a drop of dew Hid in the moss, stole out as covertly As starlight from the edging of a cloud. I never saw a boy so beautiful. His step was like the stooping of a bird, And his limbs melted into grace like things Shaped by the wind of summer. He was like A painter's fine conception—such an one As he would have of Ganymede, and weep Upon his pallet that he could not win The vision to his easel. Who could paint The young and shadowless spirit? Who could chain The visible gladness of a heart that lives, Like a glad fountain, in the eye of light, With an unbreathing pencil? Nature's gift Has nothing that is like it. Sun and stream, And the new leaves of June, and the young lark That flees away into the depths of heaven, Lost in his own wild music, and the breath Of springtime, and the summer eve, and noon In the cool autumn, are like fingers swept Over sweet-toned affections—but the joy That enters to the spirit of a child Is deep as his young heart: his very breath, The simple sense of being, is enough To ravish him, and like a thrilling touch He feels each moment of his life go by. Beautiful, beautiful childhood! with a joy That like a robe is palpable, and flung Out by your every motion! delicate bud Of the immortal flower that will unfold And come to its maturity in heaven! I weep your earthly glory. 'Tis a light Lent to the new born spirit that goes out With the first idle wind. It is the leaf Fresh flung upon the river, that will dance Upon the wave that stealeth out its life, Then sink of its own heaviness. The face Of the delightful earth will to your eye Grow dim; the fragrance of the many flowers Be noticed not, and the beguiling voice Of nature in her gentleness will be To manhood's senseless ear inaudible. I sigh to look upon thy face, young boy! |