A DREA M. 'Twas noon, 'twas summer: I beheld Woods darkening in the flush of day, And that bright rivulet spread and swelled, A mighty stream, with creek and bay. And here was love, and there was strife, Now stooped the sun-the shades grew thin; And sunburnt groups were gathering in, From the shorn field, its fruits and sheaves. The river heaved with sullen sounds; Still waned the day; the wind that chased The woods were stripped, the fields were waste; And of the young, and strong, and fair, A lonely remnant, gray and weak, 337 Lingered, and shivered to the air Ah! age is drear, and death is cold! 'Twas thus I heard the dreamer say, And bade her clear her clouded brow; "For thou and I, since childhood's day, Have walked in such a dream till now. "Watch we in calmness, as they rise, The changes of that rapid dream, And note its lessons, till our eyes Shall open in the morning beam." THE ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM. THE ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM. HERE are old trees, tall oaks and gnarled pines, And leaping squirrels, wandering brooks, and winds A fragrance from the cedars, thickly set With pale blue berries. In these peaceful shades- My thoughts go up the long dim path of years, Oh FREEDOM! thou art not, as poets dream, Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, 339 THE FOUNTAIN. FOUNTAIN, that springest on this grassy slope, That shines on mountain blossom. Thus doth God This tangled thicket on the bank above Thy basin, how thy waters keep it green! That trails all over it, and to the twigs Ties fast her clusters. There the spice-bush lifts Her leafy lances; the viburnum there, Paler of foliage, to the sun holds up Her circlet of green berries. In and out THE FOUNTAIN. 317 The chipping sparrow, in her coat of brown, Not such thou wert of yore, ere yet the axe Had smitten the old woods. Then hoary trunks Of oak, and plane, and hickory, o'er thee held A mighty canopy. When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip-tree, high up, And silken-winged insects of the sky. Frail wood-plants clustered round thy edge in Spring. The liverleaf put forth her sister blooms Of faintest blue. Here the quick-footed wolf, Of sanguinaria, from whose brittle stem The red drops fell like blood. The deer, too, left In such a sultry summer noon as this, Stopped at thy stream, and drank, and leaped across. But thou hast histories that stir the heart With deeper feeling; They rise before me. while I look on thee I behold the scene |