Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/247

Rh My tiny boat, with my young playmates round When school was o'er, is dearer far to me, Than all these bold, broad waters. To my eye They are as strangers. And those little trees My mother nurtur'd in the garden bound, Of our first home, from whence the fragrant peach Hung in its ripening gold, were fairer sure Than this dark forest, shutting out the day." —"What, ho!—my little girl," and with light step A fairy creature hasted toward her sire, And setting down the basket that contain'd His noon-repast, look'd upward to his face With sweet, confiding smile.                                               "See, dearest, see, That bright-wing'd paresquet, and hear the song Of yon gay red-bird, echoing thro' the trees, Making rich music. Didst thou ever hear In far New-England, such a mellow tone?" —"I had a robin that did take the crumbs Each night and morning, and his chirping voice Did make me joyful, as I went to tend My snow-drops. I was always laughing then In that first home. I should be happier now Methinks, if I could find among these dells The same fresh violets."                                        Slow night drew on, And round the rude hut of the Emigrant The wrathful spirit of the rising storm Spake bitter things. His weary children slept, And he, with head declin'd, sat listening long To the swoln waters of the Illinois, Dashing against their shores.