It came with spring's soft sun and showers,

Mid bursting buds and blushing flowers;

It flourished on the same light stem,

It drank the same clear dews with them.

The crimson tints of summer morn

That gilded one, did each adorn:

The breeze that whispered light and brief

To bud or blossom, kissed the leaf;

When o'er the leaf the tempest flew,

The bud and blossom trembled too.

But its companions passed away,

And left the leaf to lone decay.

The gentle gales of spring went by:

The fruits and flowers of summer die.

The autumn winds swept o'er the hill,

And winter's breath came cold and chill.

The leaf now yielded to the blast,

And on the rushing stream was cast.

Far, far it glided to the sea,

And whirled and eddied wearily,

Till suddenly it sank to rest,

And slumbered in the ocean's breast.

Thus life begins—its morning hours,

Bright as the birthday of the flowers—

Thus passes like the leaves away,

As withered and as lost as they.

Beneath the parent roof we meet

In joyous groups, and gayly greet

The golden beams of love and light,

That dawn upon the youthful sight.

But soon we part, and one by one,

Like leaves and flowers, the group is gone.

One gentle spirit seeks the tomb,

His brow yet fresh with childhood's bloom:

Another treads the paths of fame,

And barters peace to win a name.

Another still, tempts fortune's wave,

And seeking wealth, secures a grave.

The last, grasps yet the brittle thread:

Though friends are gone and joy is dead—

Still dares the dark and fretful tide,

And clutches at its power and pride—

Till suddenly the waters sever,

And like the leaf, he sinks for ever!

Twas morn, and, wending on its way,

Beside my path a stream was playing;

And down its banks, in humor gay,

A thoughtless boy was idly straying.

Light as the breeze they onward flew—

That joyous youth and laughing tide,

And seemed each other's course to woo,

For long they bounded side by side.

And now the dimpling water staid,

And glassed its ripples in a nook;

And on its breast a bubble played,

Which won the boy's admiring look.

He bent him o'er the river's brim,

And on the radiant vision gazed;

For lovelier still it seemed to him,

That in its breast his imaged blazed.

With beating heart and trembling finger,

He stooped the wondrous gem to clasp,

But, spellbound, seemed a while to linger,

Ere yet he made th' adventurous grasp.

And still a while the glittering toy,

Coquettish, seemed to shun the snare,

And then more eager grew the boy,

And followed with impetuous air.

Round and around, with heedful eyes,

He chased it o'er the wavy river:

He marked his time and seized his prize,

But in his hand it burst for ever!

Upon the river's marge he sate,

The tears adown his young cheek gushing;

And long,—his heart disconsolate—

He heeded not the river's rushing.

But tears will cease. And now the boy

Once more looked forth upon the stream:

'Twas morning still, and lo! a toy,

Bright as the last one, in the beam!

He rose—pursued—the bubble caught;

It burst—he sighed—then others chased;

And as I parted, still he sought

New bubbles in their downward haste.

My onward path I still pursued,

Till the high noontide sun was o'er me.

And now, though changed in form and mood,

That Youth and river seemed before me.

The deepened stream more proudly swept,

Though chafed by many a vessel's prow;

The Youth in manhood's vigor stept,

But care was chiselled on his brow.

Still on the stream he kept his eye,

And wooed the bubbles to the shore,

And snatched them, as they circled by,

Though bursting as they burst before.

Once more we parted. Yet again

We met—though now 'twas evening dim:

Onward the waters rushed amain,

And vanished o'er a cataract's brim.

Though swift and dark the raging surge,

The Bubble-Chaser still was there;

And, bending o'er the dizzy verge,

Clutched at the gaudy things of air.

With staff in hand and tottering knee,

Upon the slippery brink he stood,

And watched, with doting ecstasy,

Each wreath of foam that rode the flood.

"One bubble more!" I heard him call,

And saw his trembling fingers play:

He snatched, and down the roaring fall,

With the lost bubble, passed away!