 | Romance and revery |  |
190
RUIN.
Look, friend, where that large trembling maple weaves
The indulgent sunshine through her careless boughs;
Look where the verge of that soft hill o'erbrows
Bent reapers busy among the tawny sheaves;
Where nature, as you see, no shadow leaves
Of dearth or pain, but with full thrift endows
The exultant soil—and yet my soul avows
This glade a ruin whose very zephyr grieves!
The indulgent sunshine through her careless boughs;
Look where the verge of that soft hill o'erbrows
Bent reapers busy among the tawny sheaves;
Where nature, as you see, no shadow leaves
Of dearth or pain, but with full thrift endows
The exultant soil—and yet my soul avows
This glade a ruin whose very zephyr grieves!
For history's darkest annals never knew
More piteous wreck than to one early love
A wild hour brought, near yonder peaceful slope;—
Yet domed by heaven's calm sanctity of blue,
How idly blows the unheeding grass above
The viewless Herculaneum of that hope!
More piteous wreck than to one early love
A wild hour brought, near yonder peaceful slope;—
Yet domed by heaven's calm sanctity of blue,
How idly blows the unheeding grass above
The viewless Herculaneum of that hope!
| Romance and revery | |