Page:Amulet 1833.pdf/8

Rh

My early history; I'll tell it now, That it may bring its lessons—faith and hope; Show how the heart is schooled by suffering, And how earth's sorrow may be guide to heaven! You know that I am not a native here; These quiet valleys, where security Seems like a birthright, and the circling year Is marked but by the seasons and their change— The green ear ripening into yellow wheat, The opening blossoms and the falling leaves— These are our chronicles of passing time! This was my mother's soil—this Saxon land: She was the very being such a home Would form to gentle beauty—calm and meek, Yet steadfast; filled with all harmonious thoughts, Her nature and religion were content— Content which learnt submission from its hope— Hope, high and holy hope, beyond the grave! But I was born beside the winding Rhone, And lived from infancy 'mid glittering scenes Of falsehoods, follies, and appearances. No kindly influences from solitude, No communings with nature filled the heart With thought, and mystery, and memories, Which childhood doth unconsciously imbibe, Till the mind, strengthened by such intercourse, Finds its own power, and doth rejoice to find. For never was it meant that we should be