University of Virginia Library

Miami Woods! once more, in pilgrim guise,
I seek your venerable shades. My heart
Is swelling with a thousand memories
Of her who, in her youthful beauty, roamed
The child of Nature here. The lapsing years
Came with their seasons redolent of bloom,
Abounding fruitfulness, and garnered wealth:
Chances and changes left their impress here,
On many a scene: the glory of the woods
Faded and fell where migratory man
Spied out the land, and chose his new abode:
The quiet of the sylvan Solitude
Was broken by unusual sounds, that woke
New echoes in its depths, as through them rush'd,
With arrowy speed, careering Power, that dragg'd
The freighted car, along whose mighty track
The monarchs of the forest disappeared:
Where the rude cabin of the pioneer
Lay like a shadow on the grassy plain,
Or on the wooded slope, when first her feet
Wandered in prattling infancy along
Meandering rivulet and bounding brook,
The trellised cottage with its crown of flowers
Appeared, and statelier mansions rose anon:
The hand of civilization touch'd each scene,
And changed it: even our last retreats were not
Exempt, but into far secluded haunts,
Whose natural beauty art could only mar,
The axe, the compass, and the chain were borne,
Dividing and despoiling: onward came
The multitudes who people now these plains
And hills, not as a calm-careering stream,
But like a rushing torrent:—Still, the love
Of Nature, in her quiet, far retreats,
Oft brought us to these old majestic groves,
That even avarice hath not yet laid low.

In this our long companionship with woods,
And waters, and the star-like flowers that line
Each rustling path, and the bright, wingèd tribes,
That give the incorporeal air a voice,
And all but an embodiment, she became,
To me, a part of every sight and sound
Throughout this wide domain. And on each breeze
That steals up softly from yon babbling brook,
Her joyous tones come floating to me now;
And turn where'er I will I see her form,
For every mossy nook and flowery slope
Is living with her image. Here, where time
Has spared a leafy covert of old days,
We sat when last she visited these scenes.
The shadow of a mighty sorrow still
Rested upon her soul; but day by day
Returning light was lifting up the veil;
And in among these old familiar haunts
I saw the struggle memory made with doubt,
And viewed the gradual triumph. Soon we left,
For other scenes that lay in sweet repose,
And golden beauty, where the winter's reign
Is mild, and shortened by a kindlier clime.

Once more in beauty came the blesséd spring,
And garlanded the earth. We were away,
Mid buds and blossoms of the sweet South-West,
Seeking to strengthen still the nestling hope
That God again had sent us. From her brow
Faded the darkness of its late eclipse;
And with the gentle, spicy airs, that oft
Stole up from the far Gulf of Mexico,
Bearing the sweets of rifled orange groves
And jasmine thickets, she drank in what seemed
To be a new and rarer life, and grew
Stronger and stronger, till her heart again
Yearned for the gloom of woods, the glance of waves,
The arrowy gleam of wings among the trees,
And the glad songs of birds. And hence we went
Out where the groves had a familiar look,
When she roused up as from a dream, and shook
With passionate joy. She held but slight discourse
Herself, as yet, but gave a willing ear,
And more than pleased assent, to converse framed
Of Nature, and the visible Universe,
Of Faith, and Hope, and Love,—and at the name
Of God, or Christ, would humbly bow her head.
To singing birds and blooming flowers she gave
Quick recognition, and her lips would part,
And her cheeks flush, when memories awoke
That long had slumbered. She would fondly pause
Where rippling waters made a soothing sound,
And where in crystal pools the bright blue heaven
Was mirrored, and the fleck of passing clouds.

But hope is vain—and human strength is vain—
And tears and agony and love and life,
All, all are vain. As transient as the spring
Were the fair promises that bade our hearts
Rejoice. The jewel still retain'd its light,
But the enshrining casket had been rent,
And might not be made whole again. She knew,
Ere yet suspicion had aroused our fears,
That Death with ruthless hand was cutting loose
The cords of life. Yet still through meadowy fields,
That stretched in quiet beauty to the shade
Of neighboring groves, whose calm retreats she loved,
We bore her often. But her feeble frame
Grew feebler as the passing spring went by
With its cool airs; and when the summer came,
She faded like a flower before its breath;
And ere the first of autumn moons grew round,
She told us, as the sad and weary winds
Came sighing up the slope, that she should die.
We bade her hope: she looked up at the heavens,
To tell us that her only hope was there.
We told her God was merciful, and good,
And just, and that he would not call her hence,
So young, so beautiful, so loved of all.
A momentary shade across her face
Pass'd like an agony, and disappeared.
Then with a light upon her countenance
That awed us into silence, it became
So like a halo, she with steady hand
Drew in clear lines the far-off grassy slope
Where she would lie, beside the younger three
Who pass'd to death before her—traced a slab,
Whereon she wrote her name, and these few words,
“She sleeps in peace,”—then with prophetic ken
Inscribed the year below. Ere many days,
Though sorrow came and dimm'd again her brow,
Without a tear she press'd our swelling hearts
To hers, and on the ashen lips of each
Printed her farewell kiss—then gave her thoughts
To God, who had her heart and all her hopes,
Breathing her life away without a moan,
Or audible sigh, and sank to sleep in death.

We bore her body to the grave she wish'd,
And laid it with her kindred. Earth contains,
In her enfolding bosom, few more bright,
More beautiful, more loved: and fewer still,
Who, taken in the blossom of their years,
So willingly, so trustingly, went down
To the dark chambers of the silent tomb.

Sorrow is of the Earth, and joy of Heaven.
The dust of what she was, is here—the soul,
That clothed it with a glory from above,
Roams now untrammel'd through eternal space,
Singing with angels round the Throne of God,
And in the fountains of perpetual peace
Bathing its shining plumes. Such is our faith—
And yet we mourn for her, and can but mourn,
She walked the shadowy shores of death so long,
And struggled through their gloom so patiently,
Only to close her little dream of life,
And lay the casket of her soul aside,
When the thick mists were rising, and the world
Spread out beneath them, bright and beautiful.