Page:Specimens of the American Poets (1822).djvu/223

Rh I sometimes come to this quiet place,

To breathe the air that ruffles thy face,

And gaze upon thee in silent dream;

For, in thy lonely and lovely stream,

An image of that calm life appears,

That won my heart in my greener years.

 

To him who in the love of Nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks

A various language; for his gayer hours

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile

And eloquence of beauty, and she glides

Into his darker musings, with a mild

And gentle sympathy, that steals away

Their sharpness, ere he is aware.—When thoughts

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight

Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;—

Go forth under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around—

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air,—

Comes a still voice—yet a few days, and thee

The all-beholding sun shall see no more

