Page:History of Oregon Literature.djvu/301

One glance at the forest and hills,
One sound of the river and rills,
And my wild heart throbs and thrills
With memory’s sweetest joys.
O hills that furrow the sky!
O rivers that gurgle by!
Heed my fond heart’s cry—
O tell me of my boys!

Fair trees, shake hands together,
Nod long plumes like a feather,
And swear to be the tether
That binds them unto me.
Let winds assist thy speech,
And all thy fair laughs reach,
Linked to the low white beach,
And to the sun-edged sea.

Tell them in lisping tears,
Well suited to their years,
Of all my hopes and fears,
Of all my cares and losses;
Tell them I weary am,
And that I long for calm,
Long for the soothing balm,
Dropping with their glad voices.

Tell them my hopes are crushed,
And all my proud hopes hushed;
The key I never touched
That waked the longed-for strain;
I listened long and well—
The sweet notes never fell,
My throbbing pulse to quell;
My fingers reached in vain.

Swifter than any thought,
Fleeter than message brought
By magic courier fraught