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!