Classic Poem

MEZEREON .

One wintry morn an icicle lay,
Chained, in the sunlight calm and clear,
To a graceful, delicate, frost-bound spray,
Like a diamond-drop in Beauty's ear.

My eye was caught by a strange, rich gleam,
That fitfully played in the pendant pure,
And I thought I saw two bright wings beam
Through the luminous ice; but I was not sure.

I stole to the place, and there — behold!
A fairy child in the icicle's heart!
Tossing his tresses of curled gold,
Shaking his tiny, suntipped dart; —

Fluttering, striving his form to free,
Like a rainbow at play in a prison, he turned;
Laughing and frowning, as anger or glee,
By turns, in his bosom, smiled or burned.

I knew by his pinions of changeable light,
I knew by his quiver and cherub-bloom,
'T was the lovely and petulant cyprian sprite —
The boy-god — caught in that living tomb.

But his sigh so soft, and his smile so warm,
Were melting the icicle fast away;
And lo! as I gazed, he freed his form,
And plumed his wings on the frost-bound spray.

" And how came you in it, sweet Love? " I cried;
He bit his lips as he answered low —
" I have been a fool for my pains; — I tried
Young Julia's heart, with a tale of wo:

" She pitied — received — and hushed me to sleep
On her tranquil breast, that knew no sin;
And o'er my form soft tears did weep,
But oh! so cold, they froze me in!

" I woke to find myself prisoned here,
In the palace of ice her tears had wrought;
And if ever I trust to a woman's tear
Again, may I be — in my own net, caught! "

He sighed — he shivered — shook off the last
Chill drops that hung on his plumes of light;
One rueful look upon me he cast,
Then rapidly rose and was lost to sight.