University of Virginia Library

Solitude.—Mrs. Sigourney.

Deep solitude I sought. There was a dell
Where woven shades shut out the eye of day,
While, towering near, the rugged mountains made
Dark back-ground 'gainst the sky. Thither I went,
And bade my spirit drink that lonely draught,
For which it long had languished 'mid the strife
And fever of the world. I thought to be
There without witness. But the violet's eye
Looked up upon me,—the fresh wild-rose smiled,
And the young pendent vine-flower kissed my cheek
And there were voices too. The garrulous brook,
Untiring, to the patient pebbles told
Its history;—up came the singing breeze,
And the broad leaves of the cool poplar spake
Responsive, every one. Even busy life
Woke in that dell. The tireless spider threw
From spray to spray her silver-tissued snare.
The wary ant, whose curving pincers pierced
The treasured grain, toiled toward her citadel.
To the sweet hive went forth the loaded bee,
And from the wind-rocked nest, the mother-bird
Sang to her nurslings.
Yet I strangely thought
To be alone, and silent in thy realm,
Spirit of life and love! It might not be!
There is no solitude in thy domains,
Save what man makes, when, in his selfish breast
He locks his joys, and bars out others' grief.
Thou hast not left thyself to Nature's round
Without a witness. Trees, and flowers, and streams,
Are social and benevolent; and he
Who oft communeth in their language pure,
Roaming among them at the cool of day,
Shall find, like him who Eden's garden dressed,
His Maker there, to teach his listening heart.