Analysis of Little Red Riding Hood

LINES SUGGESTED BY THE ENGRAVING OF LANDSEER’S PICTURE.

Come back, come back together,
    All ye fancies of the past,
Ye days of April weather,
    Ye shadows that are cast
By the haunted hours before!
    Come back, come back, my childhood;
Thou art summoned by a spell
    From the green leaves of the wild wood,
From beside the charmed well!
    'Tis Red Riding-Hood, the darling,
    The flower of fairy lore.

The fields were covered over
    With colours, as she went;
Daisy, buttercup, and clover,
    Below her footsteps bent.
Summer shed its shining store,
    She was happy as she prest them
Beneath her little feet;
    She plucked them and caress'd them.
They were so very sweet—
    They had never seemed so sweet before,
To Red Riding-Hood, the darling,
    The flower of fairy lore.

How the heart of childhood dances
    Upon a sunny day!
It has its own romances,
    And a wide, wide world have they!
A world where phantasie is king,
    Made all of eager dreaming;
When once grown up and tall,
    Now is the time for scheming,
Then we shall do them all!
    Do such pleasant fancies spring
For Red Riding-Hood the darling,
    The flower of fairy lore?

She seems like an ideal love,—
    The poetry of childhood shown,
And yet loved with a real love,
    As if she were our own;
A younger sister for the heart;
Like the young pheasant,
    Her hair is brown and bright,
And her smile is pleasant—
    With its rosy light.
Never can the memory part,
With red Riding-Hood the darling,
    The flower of fairy lore.

Did the painter, dreaming
    In a morning hour,
Catch the fairy seeming
    Of this fairy flower?
Winning it with eager eyes—
From the old enchanted stories,
    Lingering with a long delight
On the unforgotten glories
    Of the infant sight?
Giving us a sweet surprise
In red Riding-Hood the darling,
The flower of fairy lore?

Too long in the meadow staying,
    Where the cowslip bends,
With the buttercups delaying
    As with early friends,
Did the little maiden stay.
Sorrowful the tale for us—
    We too loiter mid life's flowers,
A little while so glorious,
    So soon lost in darker hours.
All love lingering on their way,
Like red Riding-Hood the darling,
The flower of fairy lore.