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PRELUDE.

Before me rose an avenue

Of tall and sombrous pines;

Abroad their fan-like branches grew,
And, where the sunshine darted through,
Spread a vapor soft and blue,

In long and sloping lines.

And, falling on my weary brain,
Like a fast-falling shower,

The dreams of youth came back again;
Low lispings of the summer rain,
Dropping on the ripened grain,
At once upon the flower.

Visions of childhood! Stay, O stay.
Ye were so sweet and wild!

And distant voices seemed to say,

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It cannot be! They pass away!

Other themes demand thy lay;

Thou art no more a child!

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