Poems Sigourney 1834/Solitude
SOLITUDE.
Deep Solitude I sought.—There was a dell
Where woven shades shut out the eye of day,
While towering near, the rugged mountains made
Dark back-ground 'gainst the sky.
Thither I went,
And bade my spirit taste that lonely fount
For which it long had thirsted 'mid the strife
And fever of the world.—I thought to be
There without witness.—But the violet's eye
Looked up to greet me, the fresh wild-rose smiled,
And the young pendent vine-flower kissed my cheek.
There were glad voices, too.—The garrulous brook,
Untiring, to the patient pebbles told
Its history.—Up came the singing breeze
And the broad leaves of the cool poplar spake
Responsive, every one.—Even busy life
Woke in that dell.—The dexterous spider threw
From spray to spray the silver-tissued snare.
The thrifty ant, whose curving pincers pierced
The rifled grain, toiled toward her citadel.
To her sweet hive went forth the loaded bee,
While from her wind-rocked nest, the mother-bird
Sang to her nurslings.—
Yet I strangely thought
To be alone and silent in thy realm,
Spirit of life and love!—It might not be!—
There is no solitude in thy domains,
Save what man makes, when in his selfish breast
He locks his joys, and shuts out others' grief.
Thou hast not left thyself in this wide world
Without a witness. Even the desert place
Speaketh thy name. The simple flowers and streams
Are social and benevolent, and he
Who holdeth converse in their language pure,
Roaming among them at the cool of day,
Shall find, like him who Eden's garden drest,
His Maker there, to teach his listening heart.