 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
367
FOREST CAROL.
I breathe more free and deep
With my foot on the forest-ground,
When winds awake from sleep
The huge, old Titans round:
I love the organ's peal
In fanes upreared by art—
But nearer God I feel
In the green-wood's leafy heart.
With my foot on the forest-ground,
When winds awake from sleep
The huge, old Titans round:
I love the organ's peal
In fanes upreared by art—
But nearer God I feel
In the green-wood's leafy heart.
To every bush a tongue
Is given by the breeze,
And a thousand harps seem hung
High on the mossy trees:—
From oak, and elm, and pine,
Comes whispering a voice,
Saying—“Thine ear incline,
Sad poet, and rejoice!”
Is given by the breeze,
And a thousand harps seem hung
High on the mossy trees:—
From oak, and elm, and pine,
Comes whispering a voice,
Saying—“Thine ear incline,
Sad poet, and rejoice!”
The cloud forsakes my brow,
And grief's wild throb my soul,
While murmuring leaf and bough
Mock ocean's distant roll;
True time my pulses beat
To notes of joy and love,
With moss beneath my feet,
And the swinging boughs above.
And grief's wild throb my soul,
While murmuring leaf and bough
Mock ocean's distant roll;
True time my pulses beat
To notes of joy and love,
With moss beneath my feet,
And the swinging boughs above.
The shade of woods I seek,
When tired of strife with men—
Old voices comfort speak
In thicket, glade and glen;
I love the organ's peal
In fanes upreared by art—
But nearer God I feel
In the green-wood's leafy heart.
When tired of strife with men—
Old voices comfort speak
In thicket, glade and glen;
I love the organ's peal
In fanes upreared by art—
But nearer God I feel
In the green-wood's leafy heart.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |