Bubble Poems

Table of Contents

1. Bubbles

   by William Dean Howells

   
   

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   I.

   I stood on the brink in childhood,
   And watched the bubbles go
   From the rock-fretted, sunny ripple
   To the smoother tide below.
   

   And over the wide creek-bottom,
   Under them every one,
   Went golden stars in the water,
   All luminous with the sun.
   

   But the bubbles broke on the surface,
   And under, like stars of gold
   Broke; and the hurrying water
   Flowed onward, swift and cold,
   

   II.

   I stood on the brink in manhood,
   And it came to my weary brain,
   And my heart, so dull and heavy
   After the years of pain—
   

   That every hollowest bubble
   Which over my Hfe had passed
   Still into its deeper current
   Some heavenly gleam had cast;
   

   That, however I mocked it gayly,
   And guessed at its hollowness,
   Still shone, with each bursting bubble,
   One star in my soul the less.
   

2. Bubbles

   by Ellen P. Allerton

   
   

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   I saw an urchin with a pipe of clay
   Held to his rosy lips; a rippling brook
   Kissed his bare feet, then, singing, sped away.
   His cheek was dimpled, mirth was in his look.
   

   The child was blowing bubbles. One by one
   The tiny globes of rainbow, frail and fair,
   Sailed upward, glittered in the morning sun,
   Trembled and swung upon the summer air.
   

   Then one by one I saw them burst. Some fell
   Upon the stream that gurgled swiftly past.
   Broke, and were gone forever. Balanced well,
   Some stayed a moment, but all burst at last.
   

   I saw them vanish, and I sadly thought,
   With tear-wet eyelid and with quivering lip,
   That such was history—thus frailly wrought,
   Men's lives are bubbles, Fortune blows the pipe.
   

   A drop, a breath—no more—is place and power.
   The crowd that cries to-day, "Long live the King!"
   To-morrow spurns its creature of an hour,
   And lays him low—a scorned and hated thing.
   

   I see how men go up and men go down;
   I see the high and noble sink to shame;
   I see the high exile's ban succeed the crown;
   I see vile Slander dog the steps of Fame.
   

   So must it be; the brightest bubbles burst;
   To grasp them is to clutch at empty air.
   Is naught, then, certain? is all good accurst?
   Is this life all? Proclaim it, ye who dare!
   

   God's Truth abides. We turn and veer about;
   We clasp our idols, and they fall to dust:
   Our faith is weak—we plunge in seas of doubt—
   Yet there is still the Rock; and God is just.
   

3. Song of the Bubbles

   by Anonymous

   Up and up we go,
   And we shine and glow;
   Though our life lasts not a minute,
   We reflect all colors in it.
   

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