The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
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From “The Minstrel Girl.”—James G. Whittier.
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 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
From “The Minstrel Girl.”—James G. Whittier.
She leaned against her favorite tree,
The golden sunlight melting through
The twined branches, as the free
And easy-pinioned breezes flew
Around the bloom and greenness there,
Awaking all to life and motion,
Like unseen spirits sent to bear
Earth's perfume to the barren ocean
That ocean lay before her then
Like a broad lustre, to send back
The scattered beams of day again
To burn along its sunset track!
And broad and beautiful it shone;
As quickened by some spiritual breath,
Its very waves seemed dancing on
To music whispered underneath.
The golden sunlight melting through
The twined branches, as the free
And easy-pinioned breezes flew
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Awaking all to life and motion,
Like unseen spirits sent to bear
Earth's perfume to the barren ocean
That ocean lay before her then
Like a broad lustre, to send back
The scattered beams of day again
To burn along its sunset track!
And broad and beautiful it shone;
As quickened by some spiritual breath,
Its very waves seemed dancing on
To music whispered underneath.
And there she leaned,—that minstrel girl!
The breeze's kiss was soft and meek
Where coral melted into pearl
On parted lip and glowing cheek;
Her dark and lifted eye had caught
Its lustre from the spirit's gem;
And round her brow the light of thought
Was like an angel's diadem;
For genius, as a living coal,
Had touched her lip and heart with flame,
And on the altar of her soul
The fire of inspiration came.
And early she had learned to love
Each holy charm to Nature given,—
The changing earth, the skies above,
Were prompters to her dreams of Heaven!
She loved the earth—the streams that wind
Like music from its hills of green—
The stirring boughs above them twined—
The shifting light and shade between;—
The fall of waves—the fountain gush—
The sigh of winds—the music heard
At even-tide, from air and bush—
The minstrelsy of leaf and bird.
But chief she loved the sunset sky—
Its golden clouds, like curtains drawn
To form the gorgeous canopy
Of monarchs to their slumbers gone!
The breeze's kiss was soft and meek
Where coral melted into pearl
On parted lip and glowing cheek;
Her dark and lifted eye had caught
Its lustre from the spirit's gem;
And round her brow the light of thought
Was like an angel's diadem;
For genius, as a living coal,
Had touched her lip and heart with flame,
And on the altar of her soul
The fire of inspiration came.
And early she had learned to love
Each holy charm to Nature given,—
The changing earth, the skies above,
Were prompters to her dreams of Heaven!
She loved the earth—the streams that wind
Like music from its hills of green—
The stirring boughs above them twined—
The shifting light and shade between;—
The fall of waves—the fountain gush—
The sigh of winds—the music heard
At even-tide, from air and bush—
The minstrelsy of leaf and bird.
But chief she loved the sunset sky—
Its golden clouds, like curtains drawn
To form the gorgeous canopy
Of monarchs to their slumbers gone!
The sun went down,—and, broad and red,
One moment, on the burning wave,
Rested his front of fire, to shed
A glory round his ocean-grave:
And sunset—far and gorgeous hung
A banner from the wall of heaven—
A wave of living glory, flung
Along the shadowy verge of even.
One moment, on the burning wave,
68
A glory round his ocean-grave:
And sunset—far and gorgeous hung
A banner from the wall of heaven—
A wave of living glory, flung
Along the shadowy verge of even.
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