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And rocking on the cliff was left
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.
I heard the distant waters dash,
I saw the current whirl and flash,-
And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach, The woods were bending with a 'silent reach. Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,
The music of the village bell.
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland
Was ringing to the merry shout,
That faint and far the glen sent out,
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin
Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.
If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills!-No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears,
THERE is a quiet spirit in these woods,
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
Departs with silent pace! That spirit moves
And frequent, on the everlasting hills,
In all the dark embroidery of the storm,
And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid
The silent majesty of these deep woods,
Its presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth,
As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards
Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades.
THE SPIRIT OF POETRY.
Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds,
The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes,Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in,
Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale,
And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill The world; and, in these wayward days of
My busy fancy oft embodies it.
As a bright image of the light and beauty That dwell in nature,—of the heavenly forms We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds
When the sun sets. Within her eye