Page:Poems Argent.djvu/41

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
POEMS.
29
It should be where the waving forest arches
Meet high in air (as kindred spirits meet),
Where the sweet music of a thousand larches
Whisper their faint, fair songs of solace sweet.

I know the spot right well; all day serenely
The glorious hills encircle it around,
And whitely bloom the water-lilies queenly
With God's own mystic meaning o'er them crowned.

The busy din of cities, vast, stupendous,
The fretful jar of men who lose their soul
In gaining money by a force tremendous,
As if life ended at so poor a goal,

Should not come near to vex me with its sadness,
But this dear river, at its "own sweet will,"
Should bring to me its message of pure gladness,
Its lofty watchword to go "onward" still!

If I might choose! within these sloping meadows
Where nature heals the spirit's inner moan,
My friends should walk within the lovely shadows,
The ones who love me for MYSELF alone,

Should walk beside me with kind arms enfolden
Round me by reason of their love divine,
And, like the ancients in the ages olden,
Should worship God 'neath Nature's leafy shrine!

Not like a hermit would I live to ponder,
For friendship with her steady torch should burn