Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/314

300 But shadowed taller vistas; and the earth, That takes and gives the ceaseless death and birth, Was blooming still, as once it bloomed before When sea-tired eyes beheld the beauteous shore.

But man's best work is weak, nor stands nor grows Like Nature's simplest. Every breeze that blows, Health-bearing to the forest, plays its part In hasting graveward all his humble art.

Beneath the trees the cabins still remained. By all the changing seasons seared and stained; Grown old and weirdlike, as the folk might grow In such a place, who left them long ago.

Men came, and wondering found the work of men Where they had deemed them first. The savage then Heard through the wood the axe's deathwatch stroke For him and all his people: odorous smoke