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, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful | Seem to participate, the whilst they view mind employ
Their own far-stretching arms and leafy heads of him who gazes
, or has gazed ? a grave and steady Vividly pictured in some glassy pool, joy,
That, for a brief space, checks the hurrying stream! That doth reject all show of pride, admits no outward
sign, Because not of this noisy world, but silent and divine !
WRITTEN IN MARCH, Whatever be the cause, 't is sure that they who pry WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF
Seemn to meet with little gain, seem less happy than
before: i One after One they take their turn, nor have I one
THE HAUNTED TREE.
The cock is crowing,
The lake doth glitter,
The oldest and youngest
Their heads never raising ;
Like an army defeated
On the top of the bare hill;
There's joy in the mountains ;
Blue sky prevailing ;
Taose silver clouds collected round the sun
Yet are they here the same unbroken knot
Men, Women, Children, yea the frame
Of the whole Spectacle the same!
That on their Gipsy-faces falls,
Their bed of straw and blanket-walls.
Much witnessing of change and cheer,
Yet as I left I find them here!
Outshining like a visible God
The glorious path in which he trod.
Behold the mighty Moon! this way
He was a lovely Youth! I guess
Among the Indians he had fought
He told of Girls - a happy rout!
He spake of plants divine and strange
He told of the Magnolia*, spread
- Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam
The Youth of green savannahs spa ke,
" What days and what sweet years ! Ah me!
* Magnolia grandiflora.
+ The splendid appearance of these scarlet flowers, which arı scattered with such profusion over the Hills in the Southern
parts of North America, is frequently mentioned by Bartram in | his Travels.
The breezes their own languor lent;
Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween
But ill he lived, much evil saw,
His genius and his moral frame
And yet he with no feigned delight
Sometimes, most earnestly, he said,
side When first, in confidence and pride, I crossed the Atlantic Main.
“It was a fresh and glorious world,
“But wherefore speak of this ? For now,
Full soon that purer mind was gone
Nor less, to feed voluptuous thought,
Fair trees and lovely flowers;
An innocent life, yet far astray !
Prom damp, and rain, and cold.
O terror! what hath she perceived ? - joy!
nickly covered with coppice woods.
Mild Hermes spake — and touched her with his wand
Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air: