University of Virginia Library


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III.
The Gardens of Nature.

I.

I rambled o'er the meadow-lands;
I walkt along the river:—
The sun was shooting golden shafts
From out his autumn quiver;
The slanting arrows hit the waves,
Refracted, and ascended,
Till in the shimmering air above
With gathering mists they blended.
Effulgent glory clothed the sky,
A billowy blaze the river,
And still the golden arrows sped
From out their autumn quiver.
I thought of God and Paradise,
Of Christ and the Hereafter,
Till rous'd by children, hurrying by
From play, with songs and laughter.

II.

I mounted then the river hills,
And lookt down in the valleys:—

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The beech-trees stood in shining clumps;
The maples ranged in alleys;
The gum here plumed the sloping way,
With ampelopsis twinings;
While not far off the monarch oak
Hung o'er the sumach linings.
The hill-sides, bright with autumn hues,
Now challeng'd the near heaven,
Along whose curves the golden clouds
To silvery shafts were driven.
But neither put such glory on
As clothed the gleaming river,
Where still the sun's swift arrows set
The gathering mists a-quiver.

III.

The frost had done its artist-work:—
Bright leaves, around me falling,
Blent their low rustle with the tones
Of distant voices, calling
The cattle from the fields below.
I heard the sweet bells tinkle,
As homeward wound the kine. I saw
The ferns and mosses sprinkle
My winding pathway down the slope
With more than earthly graces.
I heard aloft the freshening winds,

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And saw below their paces;
And soon I felt my new-strung nerves
With pleasure stir and tingle,
As banks of clouds, with sunset fill'd,
Came blazing up the dingle.

IV.

Dazed with the beauty, long I stood,
As 't were 'twixt earth and heaven,
And gazed with wonder. “And all this,”
I said, “O man! was given,
In the beginning, unto thee:
Yet thou didst scorn the Giver!”
No more. There was no more to say! ...
Far up the rounding river
I saw the city's steeples shine:
I knew what lay around them;
I knew the people's pride and sin;
I knew the chains that bound them;
And, turning from all this, I gazed
Once more on earth and heaven,
As up from off the gleaming waves
The freshening winds were driven.

V.

The sun set. O'er the darkening stream
The twilight shadows gather'd;

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No longer danced in light the plumes
With which the hills were feather'd;
The cottages in shadow lay;
In shadow lay the meadows;
And up the darkening dingle's sides
Like phantoms crept the shadows.
From farms I heard the peacock's cry,
The bittern's from the river;
The city's bells, I thought, rang out—
“Deliver! oh, Deliver!”
And now the heavens outshone the waves,
The hill-tops, and the hollow,
For crimson glory sail'd the curves
Where'er the eye could follow.

VI.

I took my homeward way. In dusk
It lay, far up the dingle;
And dusky thoughts I felt come up,
And with my fancies mingle.
The cottages lookt brown: I saw
The darkening shadows win them;
But, as I pass'd, the lights of home
Shone cheerfully within them.
The barn-yards lookt like graves, which here
And there white slabs besprinkle;
But, passing, I arous'd the flocks,

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And heard the sheep-bells tinkle.
A wild, dark thicket, far ahead,
Each step was nearer bringing;
But, when I reacht it, deep within
Its heart a thrush was singing.

VII.

So, on I went. And as I pass'd,
Each shade had its bright lining;
And to my heart I said: “Oh, heart!
Now cease thy much repining!
If what thou wantest, cometh not
To-day, await the morrow;
And if to-morrow barren prove,
Still hold thee from thy sorrow:—
For it was sure the cottage homes
Had lights within to twinkle;
And it was sure the folded flocks
Had bells that soon would tinkle;
And it was sure the thicket's heart
Would yet with song be ringing;
And so of thine! No more repine—
But wait the Future's bringing.”