 | Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems |  |
I.
There is a temple, not made with hands,That out in the broad blue firmament stands.
From the silence and shade of its Portico,
I lookt out o'er the landscape that lay below:—
Green, meadowy reaches, in light that ran
To the edgings of brown where groves began;
With here-and-there, now miss'd, now met,
The silvery line of a rivulet,
That up from its fringing greenness glanced,
As into the thickets and out it danced;
And away, but indistinct and dim,
On the broad savanna's farthest rim,
Embowered in beauty, what seem'd to be
The dwellings of men, all tranquilly
Reposing in fields around them spread,
As calm as the heav'n that arch'd o'er head.
| Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems | |