Maudine Lariven (Classic Reprint)
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Excerpt from Maudine Lariven
Maudine Läriven.
Part I.
'Twas summer. The forest, the lake and the dell
Seemed vying with each their own story to tell.
While that night over all lay shimmering gleams
Of a silver moon, like a maiden's fair dreams.
The breeze, as it passed with a sigh through the leaves,
Seemed to whisper of things no mortal e'er sees.
For too short is the sight, too fleeting the years.
To grasp all of Nature before life is sear.
For ages she has lived, and sung her wild song:
We live but a moment, and then in the throng
Of this busy world, too absorbed in its bills
To give ear to music of Nature's fair wills.
For to each there is given a harp yet unstrung:
It is ours to string, and the music's begun.
She never refuses, from out her rich mine,
To give to the soul all the songs it would find.
Maudine Lariven, on this calm summer night,
Was trying to string this life-harp aright:
With none to suggest, and by none be advised,
It was hers to solve the dim future disguised.
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