 | Verses of a life time |  |
154
SWEET AUBURN. NOW MOUNT AUBURN CEMETERY.
Sweet Auburn! when a gay and happy child,
Playing with nature like a favorite toy,
I loved thy bowers,—thy bowers so distant now!
Nine summers only on my eyes had smiled,
When to thy wilds, all unaccompanied,
Frequent I strayed, slighting more cultured paths,
Where glowed, mid wary steps, the weeded flowers.
Playing with nature like a favorite toy,
I loved thy bowers,—thy bowers so distant now!
Nine summers only on my eyes had smiled,
When to thy wilds, all unaccompanied,
Frequent I strayed, slighting more cultured paths,
Where glowed, mid wary steps, the weeded flowers.
I sought thy mossy banks—raised a green throne,
And wielding there the willow's flexile twig,
Sang idle songs, such as ring wildly forth
In carol light or sad from untried hearts.
And wielding there the willow's flexile twig,
Sang idle songs, such as ring wildly forth
In carol light or sad from untried hearts.
To Woody Dell I strayed, not then the voice
Which since, in manly eloquence, has woke
Its echoes, met my ear, but the gay birds
Sent up clear notes of joy from bough to bough,
Unconscious, that those notes in after years
Would change to funeral hymns.
I climbed thy hill,
Whose noble height look'd down o'er art and nature.
The city's spires stood out, bathed in the glow
Of distant sunlight, while the gentle Charles
Lay like a nursing child outstretched in joy,
Soft murmuring, beneath the waving boughs.
Which since, in manly eloquence, has woke
155
Sent up clear notes of joy from bough to bough,
Unconscious, that those notes in after years
Would change to funeral hymns.
I climbed thy hill,
Whose noble height look'd down o'er art and nature.
The city's spires stood out, bathed in the glow
Of distant sunlight, while the gentle Charles
Lay like a nursing child outstretched in joy,
Soft murmuring, beneath the waving boughs.
Then with a light but not unthinking mind,
A glancing eye, and busy foot, descending
The wooded Hill, I sought the Giant's Grave,
On whose extended mound the wild flowers rose.
The soft anemone stood peeping there,
To woodland gaze the gentle snow-drop's peer,
And violets that owe their witching charm
To kindred with an azure eye,—and heaven's.
A glancing eye, and busy foot, descending
The wooded Hill, I sought the Giant's Grave,
On whose extended mound the wild flowers rose.
The soft anemone stood peeping there,
To woodland gaze the gentle snow-drop's peer,
And violets that owe their witching charm
To kindred with an azure eye,—and heaven's.
And can this be the same, the steady hand
That presses now in midnight thought my brow,
Beneath the star-beam of a Southern sky,
That with its small and twining fingers loved
To cull fresh flowers on Auburn's leafy slopes?
That presses now in midnight thought my brow,
Beneath the star-beam of a Southern sky,
That with its small and twining fingers loved
To cull fresh flowers on Auburn's leafy slopes?
Thou, too, how changed, sweet Auburn! then of life,
Now of the grave, thou tell'st—thy bloom is mourning!
And with the wild bird's song the sob of woe
Mingles most sad.
I ask no monument,
Or lettered urn, within thy classic shades.
Be thou to me as in my childish days
Clustered all o'er with bright imaginings.
Though solemn words have sanctified thy Dell,
Linking its grassy clods with thoughts of heaven,
Though with fastidious taste affection's hand
Has piled the costly marble on thy hills,
And carved it in thy vales; though the great dead
Great in the intellect that cannot die,
Have made their bed with thee, to me thou art
Sweet Auburn, and I love thee as the nest
From whence I joyed to plume my youthful wings
And soar to man's high nature from the child's.
Now of the grave, thou tell'st—thy bloom is mourning!
156
Mingles most sad.
I ask no monument,
Or lettered urn, within thy classic shades.
Be thou to me as in my childish days
Clustered all o'er with bright imaginings.
Though solemn words have sanctified thy Dell,
Linking its grassy clods with thoughts of heaven,
Though with fastidious taste affection's hand
Has piled the costly marble on thy hills,
And carved it in thy vales; though the great dead
Great in the intellect that cannot die,
Have made their bed with thee, to me thou art
Sweet Auburn, and I love thee as the nest
From whence I joyed to plume my youthful wings
And soar to man's high nature from the child's.
I ask no monument within thy shades.
The rustling branches of our Southern groves
Shall soothe my sleep of death, kindly as winds
That circle through thy famed and cultur'd bow'rs;
The Southern flower spring up as soft and pure
As thine; bright Southern birds a requiem pour
As rich and mournful as thy plumed quire;
And Southern hearts, perchance with fervency,
Breathe prayers and blessings on my humbler grave.
The rustling branches of our Southern groves
Shall soothe my sleep of death, kindly as winds
That circle through thy famed and cultur'd bow'rs;
The Southern flower spring up as soft and pure
As thine; bright Southern birds a requiem pour
As rich and mournful as thy plumed quire;
And Southern hearts, perchance with fervency,
Breathe prayers and blessings on my humbler grave.
Charleston, S. C. 1836.
| Verses of a life time | |