Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments ::

O gentle rushing of the stainless stream,
Haunt of that maiden's dream!
O beech and sycamore, whose branches made
Her dear ancestral shade!
I call you praying; for she felt your power
In many an inward hour;
To many a wild despairing mood ye gave
Some help to heal or save,
And sang to heavenlier trances, long and long,
Your world-old undersong.
Now therefore, if ye may, one moment show
One look of long ago;
Create from waving sprays and tender dew
Her soft fair form anew;
From deepening azure of these August skies
Relume her ardent eyes!
Or if there may not from your sunlit aisle
Be born one flying smile,—
In all your multitudinous music heard
One whisper of one word,—
Then wrap me, forest, with thy blowing breath
In sleep, in peace, in death;
Bear me, swift stream, with immemorial stir,
To love, to God, to her.

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