Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems

The day was well nigh o'er;
The sun, near the horizon, dimly shone;
And the long shadows of the door-yard trees,
Athwart the yard were thrown.
Before our humble door,
Upon the soft, cool grass,
With bosom open to the evening breeze
Which now and then did pass,
Musing, and dreaming of the spirit's birth,
And its relations to this beautiful earth,
I lay alone—
Borne on Imagination's airy pinions,
Far from the world's turmoil, and sordid man's dominions.

Eve came on gently: and her step was seen
Stirring the blossoms on the velvet green,
And warning home the laden bee,
Yet laboring busily.
The while, her soft
And delicate fingers pluck'd the leaves aloft,

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And whirl'd them round and round
In eddies to the ground,
Where I, an humble Pan, with many a wreath was crown'd!

Presently on my ear,
Rang full and deep,
Joyous, and musical, and clear,
A sound, which made my father-heart to leap,
And sent the quick blood to my cheek and brow,
Which with the recollection warm e'en now.
It ceased, that thrilling tone:
And with it passed my bright but dreamy train
Of thought—and I was but a man again,
Earthly, and weak, and lone.
So slight a touch can jar the spirit's springs—
And e'en a word, or tone, or look, clip Fancy's wings.

Once more—Once more, it rang upon my ear—
But blent with other sounds, as clear
And musical as it:
A childish jest—and then a shout,
From one, or two, or three, rang out,
Full, free, and wild—
And then a fit
Of childish laughter rent the dewy air!
And now my eye a glimpse caught of the fair

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And lovely ONE: It was my own dear child!
She and her little friends, hard at their play,
Upon the grassy slope, that softly stretch'd away.

Again—again—
From the descending plain,
Up rise those gleeful notes: but chief that voice
Which first broke on my ear,
And made my heart rejoice,
Ascends, full, strong, and clear—
Approaching nigh and nigher,
As the strain grows high and higher;
Then, like a water-circle, flowing
Away to every point, and growing
Fainter, and fainter, till the last tones die,
Lost, as far-journeying birds fade in the purple sky.

Bonnets were in the air,
And bonnet-ribbands scattered on the ground;
Small shoes and pantalettes lay thick around,
And tiny feet were bare:
And frocks were soil'd, and aprons rent;
But still they kept their frolic-mood,
And laugh'd and romp'd; and when I went
And closer by them stood,

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How hard each little elf did try
To win the most of my regard;
Now gazing anxious in my eye,
And striving still more hard:
The spirit, so it seem'd to me,
The same in the great world we see,
Spurring the warrior on to victory,
And urging on the bard:
Each had success as much at heart,
As he who plays in war or politics his part.

“My child!—my child!”
She comes to me:
Her cheeks are flush'd, her hair is wild,
Her pulse is bounding free:
With laugh and shout she comes—but see!
Half way she stops, as still as death;
Her look is sad—she hardly draws a breath.
“My child! my own dear child!
Tell me, what aileth thee?”
“Father!”—she pointed to the moon,
On the horizon's shatter'd bound—
'T was rising, full and round.
“Father! I'm coming soon.”
Her other hand now pointed to the West,
Where the dim sun was sinking to his rest.

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“Father! are those the eyes of God
Looking upon us here?”
Her knee bent slowly to the dewy sod—
And then came tear on tear:
A gush of mingled feeling—wonder, and joy, and fear.

University of Virginia Library

A Summer Scene.