Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FUTURE, by ANNA MARIA WELLS



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THE FUTURE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The flowers, the many flowers
Last Line: The reckless slumberer shall not wake to heaven.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wells, A. M.


THE flowers, the many flowers
That all along the smiling valley grew,
While the sun lay for hours,
Kissing from off their drooping lids the dew;
They, to the summer air
No longer prodigal, their sweet breath yield,
Vainly, to bind her hair,
The village maiden seeks them in the field.

The breeze, the gentle breeze
That wander'd like a frolic child at play,
Loitering 'mid blossom'd trees,
Trailing their stolen sweets along its way,
No more adventuresome,
Its whisper'd love is to the violet given;
The boisterous North has come,
And scared the sportive trifler back to heaven.

The brook, the limpid brook
That prattled of its coolness as it went
Forth from its rocky nook,
Leaping with joy to be no longer pent, --
Its pleasant song is hush'd; --
The sun no more looks down upon its play; --
Freely, where once it gush'd,
The mountain torrent drives its noisy way.

The hours, the youthful hours,
When in the cool shade we were wont to lie,
Idling with fresh cull'd flowers,
In dreams that ne'er could know reality; --
Fond hours, but half enjoy'd,
Like the sweet summer breeze they pass'd away,
And dear hopes were destroy'd,
Like buds that die before the noon of day.

Young life, young turbulent life,
If, like the stream, it take a wayward course,
'T is lost 'mid folly's strife, --
O'erwhelm'd, at length, by passion's curbless force.
Nor deem youth's buoyant hours
For idle hopes or useless musings given:
Who dreams away his powers,
The reckless slumberer shall not wake to heaven.





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