 | Poems |  |
67
THE ARCHÈD STREAM.
It went within my inmost heart,
The overhanging Arch to see,
The liquid stream, became a part
Of my internal Harmony.
The overhanging Arch to see,
The liquid stream, became a part
Of my internal Harmony.
So gladly rushed the full stream through,
Pleased with the measure of its flow,
So burst the gladness on the view,
It made a song of Mirth below.
Pleased with the measure of its flow,
So burst the gladness on the view,
It made a song of Mirth below.
Yet gray were those o'erarching stones,
And sere and dry the fringing grass,
And mournful with remembered tones,
That out of Autumn's bosom pass.
And sere and dry the fringing grass,
And mournful with remembered tones,
That out of Autumn's bosom pass.
68
And over it the heavy road,
Where creaks the wain with burdened cheer,
But gaily from this low abode,
Leapt out the merry Brook so clear.
Where creaks the wain with burdened cheer,
But gaily from this low abode,
Leapt out the merry Brook so clear.
Then Nature said: My child, to thee,
From the gray Arch shall beauty flow,
Thou art a pleasant thing to me,
And freely in my meadows go.
From the gray Arch shall beauty flow,
Thou art a pleasant thing to me,
And freely in my meadows go.
Thy Verse shall gush thus freely on,
Some Poet yet may sit thereby,
And cheer himself within the sun,
My Life has kindled in thine eye.
Some Poet yet may sit thereby,
And cheer himself within the sun,
My Life has kindled in thine eye.
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