University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

collapse section 
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
HEMLOCKS.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 


28

HEMLOCKS.

(Terza Rima.)

I knew a forest, tranquil and august,
Down whose green deeps my steps would often stray
When leisure met my life as dew meets dust!
Proud spacious chestnuts verged each winding way,
And hickories in whose dry boughs winds were shrill,
And tremulous white-boled birches. Here, one day,
Strolling beside the scarce-held steed of will,
I found a beautiful monastic grove
Of old primeval hemlocks, living still!
Round it the forest rustled, flashed, and throve,
But here was only silence and much gloom,
As though some sorcerer in dead days had wove.
With solemn charms and muttered words of doom,
A cogent spell that said to time “Depart!”
And locked it in the oblivion of a tomb!
Thick was its floor, where scant ferns dared to start,
With tawny needles, and an old spring lay
Limpid as crystal in its dusky heart!
Vaguely enough can language ever say
What sombre and fantastic dreams, for me,
Held shadowy revel in my thought that day!
How stern similitudes would dimly be
Of painted braves that grouped about their king;
Or how, in crimson firelight, I would see

29

Some ghostly war-dance whose weak cries took wing
Weirdly away beyond the grove's dark brink;
Or how I seemed to watch, by that old spring,
The timid phantom deer steal up to drink!