220 GREEN RIVER. Till the eating cares of earth should depart, And the peace of the scene pass into my heart; And I envy thy stream, as it glides along, Through its beautiful banks in a trance of song. Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men, And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, And mingle among the jostling crowd, Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud I often come to this quiet place, To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face, And gaze upon thee in silent dream, For in thy lonely and lovely stream, TO A CLOUD BEAUTIFUL cloud! with folds so soft and fair, Thy fleeces bathed in sunlight, while below Beautiful cloud! I would I were with thee In thy calm way o'er land and sea : On streams that tie her realms with silver bands, On his own olive-groves and vines, But I would woo the winds to let us rest O'er Greece long fettered and oppressed, 222 TO A CLOUD. Whose sons at length have heard the call that comes From the old battle-fields and tombs, And risen, and drawn the sword, and on the foe Bright meteor! for the summer noontide made ! The sun, that fills with light each glistening fold, The blast shall rend thy skirts, or thou may'st frown And weep in rain, till man's inquiring eye AFTER A TEMPEST. THE day had been a day of wind and storm ;→→→ Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast, The rain-drops glistened on the trees around, Whose shadows on the tall grass were not stirred, Save when a shower of diamonds, to the ground, Was shaken by the flight of startled bird; For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard About the flowers; the cheerful rivulet sung And gossiped, as he hastened ocean-ward; To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding, clung, And chirping from the ground the grasshopper upsprung. And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry Flew many a glittering insect here and there, And darted up and down the butterfly, That seemed a living blossom of the air. 224 AFTER A TEMPEST. The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair; It was a scene of peace--and, like a spell, And beauteous scene; while far beyond them all, On many a lovely valley, out of sight, Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden light. I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene No more shall beg their lives on bended knee, Too long, at clash of arms amid her bowers And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast, The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers And ruddy fruits; but not for aye can last |