Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/186

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��I LOOKED on nature's beauty, and it came

Like a blest spirit to my inmost heart,

And sadness fled away. The fragrant breeze

Swept o'er me, as a tale of other times,

Lifting the curtain from the ancient cells

Of early memory. The young vine put forth

Her quivering tendrils, while the patron bough

Lured their light clasping with such love as leaves

Do whisper to each other, when they lean

To drink the music of the summer-shower.

There was a sound of wings, and through the mesh Of her green latticed chamber, stole the bird To cheer her callow young. The stream flowed on, And on its lake-like breast, the bending trees Did glass themselves with such serene repose, That their still haunt seemed holy. The spent sun Turned to his rest, and soft his parting ray To mountain-top, and spire, and verdant grove, And burnished casement, and reposing nest, Spake benediction. And the vesper-strain Went breathing up from every plant and flower.

�� �