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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FAREWELL TO A RURAL RESIDENCE by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY

Poet Analysis

First Line: HOW BEAUTIFUL IT STANDS
Last Line: THAT IT HATH BEEN TO ME.
How beautiful it stands,
Behind its elm-tree's screen,
With simple attic cornice crown'd,
All graceful and serene!
Most sweet, yet sad, it is,
Upon yon scene to gaze,
And list its inborn melody,
The voice of other days:

For there, as many a year
Its varied chart unroll'd,
I hid me in those quiet shades,
And call'd the joys of old;
I call'd them, and they came
When vernal buds appear'd,
Or where the vine-clad summer bower
Its temple-roof uprear'd;

Or where the o'er-arching grove
Spread forth its copses green,
While eye-bright and asclepias rear'd
Their untrain'd stalks between;
And the squirrel from the boughs
His broken nuts let fall,
And the merry, merry little birds
Sang at his festival.

Yon old forsaken nests
Returning spring shall cheer,
And thence the unfledged robin breathe
His greeting wild and clear;
And from yon clustering vine,
That wreathes the casement round,
The humming-bird's unresting wings
Send forth a whirring sound;

And where alternate springs
The lilac's purple spire
Fast by its snowy sister's side;
Or where, with wing of fire,
The kingly oriole glancing went
Amid the foliage rare,
Shall many a group of children tread,
But mine will not be there.

Fain would I know what forms
The mastery here shall keep,
What mother in yon nursery fair
Rocks her young babes to sleep:
Yet blessings on the hallow'd spot,
Though here no more I stray;
And blessings on the stranger-babes,
Who in those halls shall play.

Heaven bless you, too, my plants,
And every parent bird,
That here, among the woven boughs,
Above its young hath stirr'd.
I kiss your trunks, ye ancient trees,
That often, o'er my head,
The blossoms of your flowery spring
In fragrant showers have shed.

Thou, too, of changeful mood,
I thank thee, sounding stream,
That blent thine echo with my thought
Or woke my musing dream.
I kneel upon the verdant turf,
For sure my thanks are due
To moss-cup and to clover-leaf,
That gave me draughts of dew.

To each perennial flower,
Old tenants of the spot,
The broad-leaf'd lily of the vale,
And the meek forget-me-not;
To every daisy's dappled brow,
To every violet blue,
Thanks! thanks! may each returning year
Your changeless bloom renew.

Praise to our Father-God,
High praise, in solemn lay,
Alike for what his hand hath given,
And what it takes away:
And to some other loving heart
May all this beauty be
The dear retreat, the Eden-home,
That it hath been to me.



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