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38
RECORDS OF THE SPRING.
XI.
THE SAME.
And ye are strong to shelter!—all meek things,
All that need home and covert, love your shade!
Birds of shy song, and low-voiced quiet springs,
And nun-like violets, by the wind betrayed.
Childhood beneath your fresh green tents hath played
With his first primrose-wealth:—there love hath sought
A veiling gloom for his unuttered thought;
And silent grief, of day's keen glare afraid,
A refuge for her tears; and oft-times there
Hath lone devotion found a place of prayer,
A native temple, solemn, hushed, and dim;
For wheresoe'er your murmuring tremors thrill
The woody twilight, there man's heart hath still
Confessed a spirit's breath, and heard a ceaseless hymn.
