With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range, WHEN THE FIRMAMENT QUIVERS WITH DAYLIGHT'S YOUNG BEAM." WHEN the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam, And the glow of the sky blazes back from the stream, Oh! 'tis sad, in that moment of glory and song, Till the circle of ether, deep, ruddy, and vast, Thus, Oblivion, from midst of whose shadow we came, Let them fade-but we'll pray that the age, in whose flight, 142 "INNOCENT CHILD AND SNOW-WHITE FLOWER." INNOCENT child and snow-white flower! White as those leaves, just blown apart, Artless one! though thou gazest now O'er the white blossom with earnest brow, Fair as it is, thou wilt throw it by. Throw it aside in thy weary hour; Throw to the ground the fair white flower; Yet, as thy tender years depart, Keep that white and innocent heart. TO THE RIVER ARVE. SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN AT A HAMLET NEAR THE FOOT OF MONT BLANC. NOT from the sands or cloven rocks, Thy springs are in the cloud, thy stream Born where the thunder and the blast With heaven's own beam and image shine. Yet stay; for here are flowers and trees; Rush on-but were there one with me That loved me, I would light my hearth Here, where with God's own majesty Are touched the features of the earth. By these old peaks, white, high, and vast, Still rising as the tempests beat, Here would I dwell, and sleep, at last, Among the blossoms at their feet. TO COLE, THE PAINTER, DEPARTING FOR EUROPE. THINE eyes shall see the light of distant skies; Yet, COLE! thy heart shall bear to Europe's strand A living image of our own bright land, Such as upon thy glorious canvas lies; Lone lakes-savannas where the bison roves Rocks rich with summer garlands-solemn streamsSkies, where the desert eagle wheels and screams— Spring bloom and autumn blaze of boundless groves, Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest-fair, But different-everywhere the trace of men, Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air, Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight, But keep that earlier, wilder image bright. TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. THOU blossom bright with autumn dew, Thou comest not when violets lean Thou waitest late and com'st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown, Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye I would that thus, when I shall see THE TWENTY-SECOND OF DECEMBER. WILD was the day; the wintry sea Moaned sadly on New-England's strand, They little thought how pure a light, With years, should gather round that day; Green are their bays; but greener still Shall round their spreading fame be wreathed, And regions, now untrod, shall thrill With reverence when their names are breathed. |