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lirik lagu ghizela rowe - brother and sister

i cannot choose but think upon the time
when our two lives grew like two buds that kiss
at lightest thrill from the bee’s swinging chime
because the one so near the other is

he was the elder and a little man
of forty inches, bound to show no dread
and i the girl that puppy~like now ran
now lagged behind my brother’s larger tread

i held him wise, and when he talked to me
of snakes and birds, and which god loved the best
i thought his knowledgе marked the boundary
wherе men grew blind, though angels knew the rest

if he said hush! i tried to hold my breath;
wherever he said come! i stepped in faith

long years have left their writing on my brow
but yet the freshness and the dew~fed beam
of those young mornings are about me now
when we two wandered toward the far~off stream

with rod and line. our basket held a store
baked for us only, and i thought with joy
that i should have my share, though he had more
because he was the elder and a boy
the firmaments of daisies since to me
have had those mornings in their opening eyes
the bunchèd cowslip’s pale transparency
carries that sunshine of sweet memories

and wild~rose branches take their finest scent
from those blest hours of infantine content

our mother bade us keep the trodden ways
stroked down my tippet, set my brother’s frill
then with the benediction of her gaze
clung to us lessening, and pursued us still

across the homestead to the rookery elms
whose tall old trunks had each a grassy mound
so rich for us, we counted them as realms
with varied products: here were earth~nuts found

and here the lady~fingers in deep shade;
here sloping toward the moat the rushes grew
the large to split for pith, the small to braid;
while over all the dark rooks cawing flew

and made a happy strange solemnity
a deep~toned chant from life unknown to me
our meadow~path had memorable spots:
one where it bridged a tiny rivulet
deep hid by tangled blue forget~me~nots;
and all along the waving grasses met

my little palm, or nodded to my cheek
when flowers with upturned faces gazing drew
my wonder downward, seeming all to speak
with eyes of souls that dumbly heard and knew

then came the copse, where wild things rushed unseen
and black~scathed grass betrayed the past abode
of mystic gypsies, who still lurked between
me and each hidden distance of the road

a gypsy once had startled me at play
blotting with her dark smile my sunny day

thus rambling we were schooled in deepest lore
and learned the meanings that give words a soul
the fear, the love, the primal passionate store
whose shaping impulses make manhood whole

those hours were seed to all my after good;
my infant gladness, through eye, ear, and touch
took easily as warmth a various food
to nourish the sweet sk!ll of loving much
for who in age shall roam the earth and find
reasons for loving that will strike out love
with sudden rod from the hard year~pressed mind?
were reasons sown as thick as stars above

’tis love must see them, as the eye sees light:
day is but number to the darkened sight

our brown c~n~l was endless to my thought;
and on its banks i sat in dreamy peace
unknowing how the good i loved was wrought
untroubled by the fear that it would cease

slowly the barges floated into view
rounding a grassy hill to me sublime
with some unknown beyond it, whither flew
the parting cuckoo toward a fresh spring time

the wide~arched bridge, the scented elder~flowers
the wondrous watery rings that died too soon
the echoes of the quarry, the still hours
with white robe sweeping~on the shadeless noon

were but my growing self, are part of me
my present past, my root of piety

those long days measured by my little feet
had chronicles which yield me many a text;
where irony still finds an image meet
of full~grown judgments in this world perplext

one day my brother left me in high charge
to mind the rod, while he went seeking bait
and bade me, when i saw a nearing barge
sn~tch out the line lest he should come too late

proud of the task, i watched with all my might
for one whole minute, till my eyes grew wide
till sky and earth took on a strange new light
and seemed a dream~world floating on some tide~~

a fair pavilioned boat for me alone
bearing me onward through the vast unknown

but sudden came the barge’s pitch~black prow
nearer and angrier came my brother’s cry
and all my soul was quivering fear, when lo!
upon the imperilled line, suspended high

a silver perch! my guilt that won the prey
now turned to merit, had a guerdon rich
of songs and praises, and made merry play
until my triumph reached its highest pitch

when all at home were told the wondrous feat
and how the little sister had fished well
in secret, though my fortune tasted sweet
i wondered why this happiness befell

the little lass had luck, the gardener said:
and so i learned, luck was with glory wed

we had the self~same world enlarged for each
by loving difference of girl and boy:
the fruit that hung on high beyond my reach
he plucked for me, and oft he must employ

a measuring glance to guide my tiny shoe
where lay firm stepping~stones, or call to mind
this thing i like my sister may not do
for she is little, and i must be kind

thus boyish will the n0bler mastery learned
where inward vision over impulse reigns
widening its life with separate life discerned
a like unlike, a self that self restrains

his years with others must the sweeter be
for those brief days he spent in loving me

his sorrow was my sorrow, and his joy
sent little leaps and laughs through all my frame;
my doll seemed lifeless and no girlish toy
had any reason when my brother came

i knelt with him at marbles, marked his fling
cut the ringed stem and make the apple drop
or watched him winding close the spiral string
that looped the orbits of the humming top

grasped by such fellowship my vagrant thought
ceased with dream~fruit dream~wishes to fulfil;
my a�ry~picturing fantasy was taught
subjection to the harder, truer sk!ll

that seeks with deeds to grave a thought~tracked line
and by what is, what will be to define

school parted us; we never found again
that childish world where our two spirits mingled
like scents from varying roses that remain
one sweetness, nor can evermore be singled

yet the twin habit of that early time
lingered for long about the heart and tongue:
we had been natives of one happy clime
and its dear accent to our utterance clung

till the dire years whose awful name is change
had grasped our souls still yearning in divorce
and pitiless shaped them in two forms that range
two elements which sever their life’s course

but were another childhood~world my share
i would be born a little sister there.”

- lirik lagu ghizela rowe

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