The Princeton union., 1879-01-22
Charley.

Edna Dean Proctor In the Youths Companion.
In mazy, sunlit garden
Where was neither watch nor warden,
But the butterflies and bees
Rifing the laburnum trees;
Where lilies pale and purple phlOx
Bent above the bordering box,
And clustering pinks and crimson roses
Made fragrant even the orchard closes
There one blissful hour straved
With the boy they said was laid
Forever meath the w-tree's shade
Charley, with his summers seven!-
The hall clock was striking eleven
AS saw him down the stairs,
With his blue eyes and chesnut hair
Backward from his forehead blown
BY the wind, that made such moan
When we lost him. Twas a day X.
In dreary March he went away, S. +.
But that now, in glad surprise, 4.
Breathed a strain of paradise.
How I clasped him to my heart!
Darling, naught again shall part
You and me, you and met"
Thrice he kissed me; then in glee
Down the winding path he sped. ...
$50 he was wont of old to play.)
could see his shining head
Bright the darkling boughs between,
As if sunbeam glanced that way;
While followed where he led,
Followed still, through gold and green,
By grove and walk, his dancing feet;
And as he ran, now fairy fleet,
Still beckoning, still eluding me,
His cheek outvied the roses, glow,
His voice. the robins minstrelsy.
By the feathery ferns 1 found him;
Fondled in my arms wound him;
o the rapture, 0 the rest,
Thus to fold him to my breast,
Look in his eyes, put back his hair!
had no further wish, nor care
For what had been, or might befall;
The moments bliss was all in all.
Silent he sat a little space;
The while I fancied l could trace
A lOftier beauty on his brow,
A finer meaning in his smile.
A thrush trilled from the lilac bough.
Aud then, in tones that might beguile
The saddest heart, so sweat they fell,
He whispered, DO the rosies grow
Red as they did last year? know
The lilies seem not half so white
Since have plucked them, all of light,
Leaning over the crystal streamsj
In the fair garden where dwell,
Or stately fall by, the golden CLEANS
OF the beds of waving asphOdel.
IT'S true that here, when morning beams
The orchard robins Warble we'll,
But, oh! there's bird that sings to me
All day long in that garden fair,
Sings till my heart is so glad and free
That long to steal through the balmy ali
And bring you straight to thatIjoyous. land.
Hush! a murmur OF wings is near!
Hark! tits his silvery note hear!"
And qeickly from my clasping hand
He sprang, that wondrous bird to see,
And vanished, as the sunlight goes
When black cloud relentless, throws
Its shadow over lawn and tree!
And calling, flying where he fed,
passed the lilies dropping dead,
And, breathless, gained the vacant STAIR
The sun shOne wan as winter moon;
A chill wind blew the rose tree bare.
Strewing it's blossoms o'er the stone;
And he was gone, and alone,
As sharp the clock rang out for noon!
All, well! days went to weeks, to years,
But never watch or prayers or tears
Brought my darling back to me
By garden bower or sunny lea!
And yet it was no dream of mine,
For soft felt his arms entwine
About my neck, and close and warm
Held his breathing, beauteous form;
Heard his laugh, his footsteps fall
Followed swift his gleeful call.
No, it was no dream of mine,
But a Joy cannot divine
Charley with his summers seven,
Stole that hour away from heaven!