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O'er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes.
Where, twisted round the barren oak,
Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs Pour out the river's gradual tide,
Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.
Alas! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay, And winds were soft, and woods were green, And the song ceased not with the day.
But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.
HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM,
AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER,
WHEN the dying flame of day
The blood-red banner, that with prayer
And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while,
"Take thy banner! May it wave
"Take thy banner! and, beneath
The battle-cloud's encircling wreath,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.
"Take thy banner! But, when night
Spare him!-he our love hath shared !
"Take thy banner !-and if e'er
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier;
The warrior took that banner proud,
SUNRISE ON THE HILLS.
I STOOD upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me;-bathed in light,
Like hosts in battle overthrown,
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance,
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,
SUNRISE ON THE HILLS.
And rocking on the cliff was left
I heard the distant waters dash,
And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach,
The woods were bending with a silent reach.
The music of the village bell
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,
Was ringing to the merry shout,
That faint and far the glen sent out,
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke,
If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Go to the woods and hills !-No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.