Poems (Denver)/Inquiries
INQUIRIES.
Thy glance is on the mountain, Thy foot is on the earth; Thy thoughts are wandering through the vales That bound thy place of birth. The scenes of other years are spread Before thee even now; Though the hopes of bygone years are fled Forever from thy brow.
Tell me, my brother! tell me, Is all as fair as when Our feet went tripping o'er the fields And through the woodland glen? Dost thou hear the wild bird's melody With the joyousness of yore; Or have these feelings left the heart, To people it no more?
They would tell of many a pleasure. Seized with a careless hand; They would tell of many a blessed hour Passed in thy mother-land. Of many a hope born in a heart Where inexperience reigned, Of many a wayward wish withheld, Of much more lost than gained!
I see a glow of beauty Upon the lofty hills; I hear the voice-like melodies Of a thousand mountain-rills; The laughter and the joyous shout Are brightly floating by, Like sunny clouds that drift about Upon a summer sky!
Tell me, my brother! tell me, Does the freshness of our youth Still linger on the green hill-side, Immaculate as its truth? Or where bright water gushes glad The frowning rocks between; Or where the stately pine is clad In everlasting green?
Where is the early spirit That made our being fair? We feel it not within our hearts, For they are chilled with care. We see not on each other's brow The images it cast; Dimly it haunts our memory now, That spectre of the past.
Around the scenes of childhood, Its holiest light is shed; Forever will it linger there, Like love beside the dead; And glimpses of its beauty come Before me fleet and fast, Hovering o'er childhood's broken tomb, Companions of the past!