Page:The New Penelope.djvu/329

Rh Even the roses had more exquisite hues,

And for one blossom I had left behind

I found a bower in this fragrant land.

Bright birds, no larger than the costly gems

The river bedded in their golden sands,

Sparkle like prismal rain-drops 'mong the leaves;

And others sang, or flashed their plumage gay

Like rainbow fragments on my dazzled eyes.

The sky had warmer teints: I could not tell

Whether the heavens lent color to the flowers,

Or but reflected that which glowed in them.

The gales that blew from off the cloud-lost hills,

Struck from the clambering vines Eolian songs,

That mingled with the splashing noise of founts,

In music such as stirs to passionate thought:

This peerless land was thronged with souls like mine,

Straying from East to South, impelled unseen,

And lost, like mine, in its enchanted vales:—

Souls that conversed apart in pairs, or sang

Low breeze-like airs, more tender than sweet words;

Save here and there a wanderer like myself,

Dreaming alone, and dropping silent tears,

Scarce knowing why, upon the little group

Of Eastern flowers we had not yet resigned:—

'Till one came softly smiling in my eyes,

And dried their tears with radiance from his own.

At last it came—I knew not how it came—

But a tornado swept this sunny South,

And when I woke once more, I stood alone.

My senses sickened at the dismal waste,

And caring not, now all things bright were dead,

That a volcano rolled its burning tide

In fiery rivers far athwart the land,

I turned my feet to aimless wanderings.

The equatorial sun poured scorching beams,