Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/69

Rh

Trees, gracious trees! how rich a gift ye are, Crown of the earth! to human hearts and eyes! How doth the thought of home, in lands afar, Linked with your forms and kindly whisperings rise! How the whole picture of a childhood lies Oft midst your boughs forgotten, buried deep! Till gazing through them up the summer skies As hushed we stand, a breeze perchance may creep And old sweet leaf-sounds reach the inner world Where memory coils—and lo! at once unfurled The past, a glowing scroll, before our sight, Spreads clear! while gushing from their long-sealed urn Young thoughts, pure dreams, undoubting prayers return, And a lost mother's eye gives back its holy light.