This plot of Orchard-ground is ours; My trees they are, my Sister's flowers; Stop here whenever you are weary, And rest as in a sanctuary! Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us on the bough! We'll talk of sunshine and of song; And summer days, when we were young Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now! 13. It is no Spirit who from Heaven hath flown, Nor Traveller gone from Earth the Heavens to espy! For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by; A few are near him still—and now the sky, O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above, My Soul, an Apparition in the place, Tread there, with steps that no one shall reprove! THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. (A Tale told by the Fire-side.) Now we are tired of boisterous joy, We've romp'd enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your Stool and rest, This corner is your own. There! take your seat, and let me see That you can listen quietly; And as I promised I will tell That strange adventure which befel A poor blind Highland Boy. |