206. EBB to Charles John Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 1, 210–211.
Written on dearest Stormy’s
birthday. Hope End Decr 28th 1824 [1]
My Fancy’s steps have often strayed
To some fair vale, the hills have made—
Where sparkling waters travel o’er,
And hold a mirror to the shore;
Winding, with murmuring, in, & out,
To find the flowers which grow about.
And there perhaps, in childhood bold,
Some little elf, three summers old,
Adown the vales may chance to run,
To hunt his shadow in the Sun—!
But when the waters meet his eyes—
He starts, and stops, with glad surprise,
And shouts, with merry voice, to view
The banks of green—the skies of blue—
Th’ inverted flocks, that bleating go—
Lilies—and trees with apple blow—
Seeming so beautiful below.
He peeps above—he glances round
And then looks down—and thinks he’s found
Reposing in the stream to woo one,
A world even lovelier than the true one.
Thus, with visions gay, & light,
Hath Fancy loved my page to dight,
Yet Thought has thro the vista seen
Something less frivolous, I ween!
Then while my chatting pen runs on,
I’ll tell you what she mused upon.
Memory’s the streamlet of the scene,
Which sweeps the hills of life between—
And, when our walking hour is past,
Upon its shore we rest at last;
And love to view the waters fair,
And see lost joys depictured there.
My Brother when thy feet are led
To press those banks, we all must tread—
Let Virtue’s smile, and Learning’s praise,
Adorn the waters, to thy gaze,
And o’er their lucid course be lent
The sunshine of a life well spent.
Then if a thought should glad thy breast
Of those who loved thee first, and best—
My name perchance may haunt the spot
Not quite unprized—nor all forgot!
Publication: An Essay on Mind, pp. 120–122 (as “Memory”), slightly altered.
Manuscript: University of Texas.
1. His tenth.
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