Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/120

THE DEATH OF BRYANT Of whispering old oaks and soughing pines.

"He comes!" the warders of the forest shrines

Sang joyously. "His spirit ministrant

Henceforth with us shall walk the underwood,

Till mortal ear divines

Its music added to our choral hymn,

Rising and falling far through archways deep and dim!"

The orchard fields, the hillside pastures green,

Put gladness on; the rippling harvest-wave

Ran like a smile, as if a moment there

His shadow poised in the midsummer air

Above; the cataract took a pearly sheen

Even as it leapt; the winding river gave

A sound of welcome where

He came, and trembled, far as to the sea

It moves from rock-ribbed heights where its dark fountains be.

His presence brooded on the rolling plain,

And on the lake there fell a sudden calm,—

His own tranquillity; the mountain bowed

Its head, and felt the coolness of a cloud,

And murmured, "He is passing!" and again 100