University of Virginia Library

What think you now?—Believe the spirit; and own
The place is haunted. On yon slanting tree
That dips its tresses in the wave, 'tis said
Poets have leant, and when the moon hath flung
Her bright smile on the quivering element,
Have thought a strange communion liv'd between
That planet and the stream. Perhaps a nymph
Of Dian's train, here, for her voice or beauty,
Was changed by some envious deity.
Whate'er it be, it well doth manifest
The lives of those who dwell around it: Calm,
And undisturbed its current, never chafed
By the rude breeze, it flows on till—'tis lost.
But I have sailed upon a stormier wave,
And, in my course of life, dark shoals were hid,
And rocks arose, and thundering currents clashed;
Like when the mighty rivers of the West
Meet the tempestuous seas; but still I lived,
And held my way undaunted. Now, I come
To this sweet place for quiet. Every tree,
And bush and fragrant flower and hilly path,
And thymy mound that flings unto the winds
Its morning incense, is my friend; for I
Did make acquaintance with inanimate things
In very boyhood, and did love to break
With shouts the mountain silence, and to hang
O'er flashing torrents, when the piny boughs
Shook their dark locks, and plained in mournful tones
Mysterious to the barren wilderness;
And still in solitary spots my soul
Resumes its youth.—Think not that this is all
An idle folly; he who can draw a joy
From rocks, or woods, or weeds, or things that seem
All mute, and does it—is wise.