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Mayfly

Started by Traditionalist, November 11, 2007, 10:48:06 AM

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Traditionalist

The Mayfly ( Ephemera Danica )

A Parable

By "Cotswold Isis" in "Lyra Picatoria"  1895

I turned a stone o?er which the brooklet brawl?d
And from beneath a loathsome creature crawl?d
Half insect and half reptile. I , appall?d

Shrank lest the savage, six legged, wormy thing,
Should seize my heedless hand and on it cling,
And pierce it with some sharp, polluting sting.

"Thou hideous water-devil, hence!" I cried,
While ?neath a weed it seemed in shame to hide.
And to my ear of fancy, thus replied:-

"Ah scorn me not, nor judge by what you see;
Time, that works wonders, may do much for me,
And what I am, I may not always be!"

I lay me down upon the bank to view
The creeping horror closely, shape and hue,
The warm sun glancing the pure water thro?.

When, like Ithuriels?s spear, the potent ray,
Pierced the foul thing, which rose to air and day,
And bubbling, burst into a beauteous fay.

One moment in the sun she fans her wings,
And smooths to roundness all their mazy rings,
Then native to the summer air she springs.

Beware, O beauty ! in the streamlet lies
A gay robed gallant with adoring eyes;
Meet not his kiss, for she he kisseth dies!

So, unbeheld, the antique Satyr hath
gazed thro?the boskage on the dainty path
Of Daphne, trembling to her morning bath.

Rising and falling o?er the waters clear,
She floats away in bliss; and on my ear
Her wise rebuke I seem again to hear----

"Ah scorn me not, nor judge by what you see;
Time, that works wonders, may do much for me,
And what I am, I may not always be!"

Ah ! we misjudge by seemings ! what may lie
Hid ?neath the wrappage loathsome to the eye,
He only knows who can the the heart descry !

Musing, I went upon my homeward way,
Conning that lesson from the fly of May
Which never from my heart shall pass away.

I hear it in the crowded city when
I meet the drunkard reeling from his den
Or pass the sinful midnight Magdalen.

And still it speaks beside the dying bed
Where some poor Christian lays his lowly head
In pain and poverty-- that voice which said--

"Ah scorn me not, nor judge by what you see;
Time, that works wonders, may do much for me,
And what I am, I may not always be!"

TL
MC

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