Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/70

38

And ye are strong to shelter!—all meek things, All that need home and covert, love your shade! Birds of shy song, and low-voiced quiet springs, And nun-like violets, by the wind betrayed. Childhood beneath your fresh green tents hath played With his first primrose-wealth:—there love hath sought A veiling gloom for his unuttered thought; And silent grief, of day's keen glare afraid, A refuge for her tears; and oft-times there Hath lone devotion found a place of prayer, A native temple, solemn, hushed, and dim; For wheresoe'er your murmuring tremors thrill The woody twilight, there man's heart hath still Confessed a spirit's breath, and heard a ceaseless hymn.