New-York tribune., 1874-02-21

Aud, maybe. the owner is dead, and tie heirs
Away IN the town, aud Will never Know
So the poor little vagabond Thistle slipped into the
meadow, and then looked about hln and thought how
happy he was to have done with the road and got rid
of the dch to be at rest at last But the farmer came
and found him there and all the Summer long, whlethe
other green Things growing glad the farmer waged
war the poor little Thistle and it was not until the az
termath mown, and primrose eowslp, and violet
with their glOwworm glitter, gOne," that, Outy-
ing his better, the poor little Thistle renamed alone
and though noticed and no one praised him, at
least no one abused him any
Then the Thistle, tat last, could enlarge his store
OF the few joys fate had vouchsafed him sparely.
Baflied hundred times, and more,
Bruised, and torn, and surviving barely,
Still he survived: and for him, HIM only,
Green leaves gaddend the lealess cold
over her grave iu the froz IN mold.
For as days, long dead, by a bard born after
Are invoked, and revive IN a form more fair,
All the bliss that was beauty the life that was
laughter.
Ere the frolic fields bercft and bare
The lone Thistle renew'd and TRANSFORMED 10 his OWN
As flower By hower-irOm the feryId rose,
Whose beauty 81 well TO herself Is known,
That she bushes proud Of the truth she knows,
To the violet, Modesty's vanquished child,
Hiding her head IN the sylvan places
Where her wandering wOoeT, the March gnst Wild
HaIh left her faint from his harsh embraces
All Of them-all, IL dream divine
OF bushes that burn, aud Of brows that sh ne,
With passion OF purple and glory OF gold.
SO all flowers OF the field were alive in one:
And the glow OF Ills sheen, and the gloss OF his
down,
Were as jewels dead queens have contlded alone
To the craftsman who fashions them all to a
For each hope in the heart OF the poor plant hidden
Each vision OF bliss and OF beauty, nursed.
With passion by Prejudice checked and chidden,
For a life by the hat of Fortune cursed,
Rushing forthwith into rich reality,
FlPd the cup OF a quenchless thirst
Till it flowed with exuOerant prOdigdlitv.
Aud his long-pent life into blossom burst.
A single blossom: hut stateller far
Aud fdrer, than many million are.
splendid disk, full aud hashing with wonder!
As the sea-rOse sWims on the water, so
That elulgent star on the bleak earth under
Lay spread out Ia a luminous glow
And AT last can blossom! blossom. hlossom!'
The Thistle aughd, greeting the earth and heaven,
And he blossomd his whole heart out Of his bosom.
And all was forgotten, save all that was given.
What could be purely pOetical than this tablet
The poor little vagabond Thistle shall blossom forever in
the garden OF memory beside Shelley's Sensitive
Plant and wordsworths Lesser Celandine and Walters
Rose. And the "moral" OF iti-That TO the poorest,
narrOwest darkest life there comes at last Summer,
sweet though late.
Very few of these poems are brief enough be quoted
entire; but here is u little Fable" for Lovers:
POSSESSION.
Poet loved u Star.
And to II WHISPERED nightly,
being so fair; why art thou, love, so far
Or why cOdly shine, who shinest 80 brightlyi
Beauty wood and unpossessed,
might 1 to this beating breast
But clasp thee once, ana then die, blest -
That star her Poets love-
SO wildly warm. made human.
And, leaving for his sake her heaven above.
His Star slOopd earthward and became u Woman.
"Thou who hast wood and hast possessed,
My lover, answer which was best,
The stars beam, or the WOmans breastP'
..I miss from heaven" the man replied,
"a light that drew my spirit 10 It,"
And 10 the man the woman sigh'd
g miss from earth poet"
To this poem the moral goes without saying Another
version of the enchantment which distance lends to the
IDl.,a Nf.u f.ty r.a
OF humble man who had always lived sight of some
blue hills lovely ana far away. He had never cmbed
the m but his longing heart roved always among their
serene SUBMITS and al last day. fate and the King
banished him those wonderful peaks. and he glad
for he thought that ut length he could tell them
what they had stood for in his life They seemed so
human 10 him. that he thought they must understand
So he rose at dawn, with the rising sun. and Jared
bitbely on his way. But he troubled and panied,
as he went out TO find the fields about him just like the
fields he had all his fe and the hills he climbed
no, other In seeming than the old among which he
had been born. But, standing on one Of them, he
paused and agaa the blue aud peaceful hills OF his
ove-Dot near even now but far away
- etrangep - he mused. "yet travepd all day,
Ay and more than the half o. the night too postl
md all my life have heard folks say
That the blue bills are but day, at most, 49,
From my native town. Did they err, wonderf
Then, he asked OF a Traveller passing by,
. Pray, slr, what's that country yonder
lHtre, NDcre inc nils are so Dlllc ana Elsn.
And, when tie traveller had told him the name
Of the place where the blue hills now were seen,
Alas poor man twas the very same
Where, till then, he had all his life long been;
The country about his native town
His birtbplaoe-whence he had just been banshd.
he blue hills there he had never known.
Aud the blue hills here. which he loved had vanished
l. And have been living, then, all this while
In q Due land--reay and truly blue r.
The exile sighd with q wful smile,
. And never dreAn'd of ~ Can IL be true
Never dream'd OF itf All seemd gray,
Or dusty white, with patch or two
VI lean green grass, red clay,
tn anil ive the ercsf Rnthlu