Pass, pulse by pulse, till o'er the ground These limbs, now strong, shall creep with pain, And this fair world of sight and sound Seem fading into night again? The things, oh LIFE! thou quickenest, all Back to earth's bosom when they die. All that have borne the touch of death, That living zone 'twixt earth and air. There lies my chamber dark and still, In the sweet air and sunshine sweet. Well, I have had my turn, have been Raised from the darkness of the clod, And for a glorious moment seen The brightness of the skirts of God; And knew the light within my breast, And cannot die, were all from him. Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve Wilt seek my grave at Sabbath eve And weep, and scatter flowers above. Thy little heart will soon be healed, When we descend to dust again, Where will the final dwelling be My love for thee, and thine for me? "EARTH'S CHILDREN CLEAVE TO EARTH." EARTH'S children cleave to Earth-her frail Decaying children dread decay. Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale Yet all in vain-it passes still From hold to hold, it cannot stay, And in the very beams that fill The world with glory, wastes away, Till, parting from the mountain's brow, And that which sprung of earth is now THE HUNTER'S VISION. UPON a rock that, high and sheer, Had sat him down to rest, All dim in haze the mountains lay, While ever rose a murmuring sound He listened, till he seemed to hear The listener scarce might know. "Thou weary huntsman," thus it said, And those whom thou wouldst gladly see Are waiting there to welcome thee.” He looked, and 'twixt the earth and sky, Amid the noontide haze, A shadowy region met his eye, And grew beneath his gaze, As if the vapors of the air Had gathered into shapes so fair. Groves freshened as he looked, and flowers Showed bright on rocky bank, And fountains welled beneath the bowers, He saw the glittering streams, he heard And friends, the dead, in boyhood dear A fair young girl, the hamlet's pride- Bounding, as was her wont, she came The hunter leaned in act to rise: Forward he leaned, and headlong down He saw the rocks, steep, stern, and brown, A frightful instant—and no more, The dream and life at once were o'er. THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS. I. HERE halt we our march, and pitch our tent And light our fire with the branches rent By winds from the beeches round. With hail of iron and rain of blood, To sweep and waste the land. II. How the dark wood rings with our voices shrill, That startle the sleeping bird; To-morrow eve must the voice be still, And the step must fall unheard. In Ticonderoga's towers, And ere the sun rise twice again, Must they and the lake be ours. III. Fill up the bowl from the brook that glides A ruddier juice the Briton hides In his fortress by the lake. Build high the fire, till the panther leap. From his lofty perch in flight, And we'll strengthen our weary arms with sleep For the deeds of to-morrow night. |