Virna Sheard

1865-1943 / Ontario

The Birth-Right

Whate'er betides, all beauty still is mine,
I drink-as did the old gods-of its wine!
Though Times should dim my eyes, yet I have seen
The hills and hollows gay with gold and green:
Roses have charmed me with a dear delight,
And Iris brought me joy in cups of white:-
For me the fairies hung on bush and tree
The marvel of the frost's bright filagree
And well I know where at the grey of morn
They threaded dew on cob-web, weed and thorn!
Lights of the Northern skies-and dancing flames,
And flowing seas-your colors have no names!
Day-shine across the uplands how you pass
Chased by the filmy shadows on the grass!
Oh, I have watched the little swallows fly
Down silver reaches of the twilight sky-
While through the Western gates another day
In sweeping golden garments passed away,-
I know how morning hastening from afar
Catches upon her rose-edged robes a star;
And often I have seen at Midnight's hour
The blooming of the Moon's gold wonder-flower.
O look, look, out upon the lovely earth
And take the gift she gave thee at thy birth!
Whate'er betides-all beauty still is thine,-
Drink deep-as did the old gods-of its wine!
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