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21 Nov 2009

The Glow Worm

By Charlotte Smith   

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When on some balmy-breathing night of Spring
The happy child, to whom the world is new
Pursues the evening moth, of mealy wing,
Or from the heath-bell beats the sparkling dew;
He sees before his inexperienc'd eyes
The brilliant Glow Worm, like a meteor, shine
On the turf bank; amaz'd and pleas'd he cries
'Star of the dewy grass! - I make thee mine!'
Then, ere he sleep, collects the moistened flower
And bids soft leaves his glittering prize enfold,
And dreams that fairy lamps illume his bower.
Yet, with the morning, shudders to behold
His lucid treasure, rayless as the dust;
So turn the World's bright joys, to cold and blank disgust.


 
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