Page:Poems Argent.djvu/79

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POEMS.
67
And as I dwelt upon that tender mouth,
Whereon a touch of transient sorrow hung,
I roamed with her within the sunny south,
      Where her great songs were sung.

And farther on, mine eyes a portrait saw,
A man that Nature hailed as her true son,
I looked with feelings not unmixed with awe
      Upon that gifted one,

The poet Wordsworth, 'mid his hills and streams
He loved so well, all peacefully he stood,
And saw bright visions, dreamed his fairest dreams
      Of sacred brotherhood!

There in his hand the pencilled page he held,
Whereon some thought had flashed across his mind;
Around, the mountain breezes sobbed and swelled,
      Like bells upon the wind!

The clear blue sky above him opened wide,
O'er his bared head and scanty locks of snow,
The wild flowers that he loved sprang side by side,
      The torrent dashed below.

And there with Nature Wordsworth ever trod
The pleasant paths of holiness and rest,
Alone with Nature, and with Nature's God
      Locked in his gentle breast.

Here, Mary Stuart's fateful beauty gleamed
From a recess,—a garden of romance