Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/248

248 Starting he spake,— "Wife! did I see thee brush away a tear? 'Twas even so. Thy heart was with the halls Of thy nativity. Their sparkling lights, Carpets, and sofas, and admiring guests, Befit thee better than these rugged walls Of shapeless logs, and this lone, hermit home." "No—no. All was so still around, methought Upon mine ear that echoed hymn did steal, Which 'mid the Church where erst we paid our vows, So tuneful peal'd. But tenderly thy voice Dissolv'd the illusion." And the gentle smile Lighting her brow, the fond caress that sooth'd Her waking infant, reassur'd his soul That wheresoe'er our best affections dwell, And strike a healthful root, is happiness. Content, and placid, to his rest he sank, But dreams, those wild magicians, that do play Such pranks when reason slumbers, tireless wrought Their will with him. Up rose the thronging mart Of his own native city,—roof and spire, All glittering bright, in fancy's frost-work ray. The steed his boyhood nurtur'd proudly neigh'd, The favorite dog came frisking round his feet, With shrill and joyous bark,—familiar doors Flew open, greeting hands with his were link'd In friendship's grasp,—he heard the keen debate From congregated haunts, where mind with mind Doth blend and brighten,—and till morning rov'd Mid the lov'd scenery of his native land.