Changes

Come to thy native village, thou, who longHast been a denizen of richer climesAnd prouder cities. Nature all adorn'dWelcomes thee back, and, like a peasant-friendExulting, filleth at her cottage-doorThe beechen cup, with honey'd balm, for thee.She fain would tell thee tales of every changeIn her slight drama since thou last wert here,Though none her scene hath shifted, or exchangedHer honest-hearted actors, save gray Time,Scattering the elm-leaves o'er the russet walk,Or to the seedling in its bed of mould,Whispering that spring hath come. She bids thee seekThy favourite brook, while Memory, ancient crone,Waiteth to point thee where thy tiny boatOr water-wheel sped gayly, or to showThe broader pool, upon whose icy gladeThy foot was fleetest, while thy merry voiceRang like a bugle when the shout was high.See'st thou yon blooming creature, sweetly deck'dWith all the grace of perfect womanhood?Lo, thou hast taken her ofttimes in thine arms,When but a few brief moons had o'er her roll'd,And sang to please her, though the watchful nurseWas fain to snatch her from thine untaught hand,Fearing thy whisker'd cheek might frighten her.

Thou canst not think so many years have fledSince those good times; and yet as silentlyAs the light snowflake glide our fleeting days,And, while we dream their greenness still survives,Amid the remnant of their wither'd prideOur steps make sullen echo.But 'tis weakTo mourn the change that nature writes on man,As heavenly wisdom dictates. Doth the sheafLook back regretful to its bursting germe?Or the ripe fruit bemoan the fallen flower?Why then should man lament his vanish'd morn?The day of duty is the day of joy;Of highest joy, such as the heavens do bless.So keep perpetual summer in thy soul,And take the spirit's smile along with thee,Even to thy winding-sheet.Yon lowly roof,Thou know'st it well, and yet it seems more lowThan it was wont to seem; for thou hast beenA visitant of loftier domes, and hallsMeet for the feet of princes. Ask thou notFor father or for mother, they who madeThat humble home so beautiful to thee:But go thy way, and show to some young heartThe same deep love, the same unchanging zealOf pure example, pointing to the skiesThat nurtured thee. So shalt thou pay the debtTo nature's best affections and to God.