 | The national jubilee, and other miscellaneous poems |  |
RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD.
What soul endued with feeling powers,
Can e'er forget his playful hours,
When light of heart—absolv'd from care,
E'er grief was felt, or wan despair,
His bosom glow'd with young desire,
While bless'd with home and parent's fire—
When foils unknown, he pass'd the night
In vision'd bliss till morning light.
Can e'er forget his playful hours,
When light of heart—absolv'd from care,
E'er grief was felt, or wan despair,
His bosom glow'd with young desire,
While bless'd with home and parent's fire—
When foils unknown, he pass'd the night
In vision'd bliss till morning light.
Though not a parent's hearth was mine,
Yet dwell my thoughts on scenes divine,
By an indulgent guardian bless'd,
Who' when with pining want oppress'd,
Me, from the crowded town, convey'd,
Where vice-alluring snares are laid—
To his fair mansion, shaded round
With many an elm of height profound,
Whose leaves delicious drank the mist,
Where savage rocks the waves resist,
From whence ascends, with sun-light lac'd,
Fantastic wreaths, exuberant grac'd
With rainbows,—gorgeous as the robe
Of Iris when she spans the globe.
Yet dwell my thoughts on scenes divine,
By an indulgent guardian bless'd,
Who' when with pining want oppress'd,
Me, from the crowded town, convey'd,
Where vice-alluring snares are laid—
To his fair mansion, shaded round
With many an elm of height profound,
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Where savage rocks the waves resist,
From whence ascends, with sun-light lac'd,
Fantastic wreaths, exuberant grac'd
With rainbows,—gorgeous as the robe
Of Iris when she spans the globe.
A crystal eddy smooth and still,
Like beauty, sleeps beneath the hill
Of bright Connecticut—a stream,
Rich to the soul as poet's dream—
So pure its wave, it frees from woes
The heart that never felt repose—
The sweetest stream of all that flows!
Beyond the eddy, wild and rude,
The waters, like a multitude
Boisterous and loud, o'er ledges dash,
Though they, their iron strength, would crash.
Like beauty, sleeps beneath the hill
Of bright Connecticut—a stream,
Rich to the soul as poet's dream—
So pure its wave, it frees from woes
The heart that never felt repose—
The sweetest stream of all that flows!
Beyond the eddy, wild and rude,
The waters, like a multitude
Boisterous and loud, o'er ledges dash,
Though they, their iron strength, would crash.
'Twas here I pass'd my childhood-home,
Where the proud river, lin'd with foam,
Breaks in its wrath o'er Hadley Falls —
How to my heart its name recalls
Scenes, innocent as holiness,
Steeping mine eyes in tearful bliss!
Where the proud river, lin'd with foam,
Breaks in its wrath o'er Hadley Falls —
How to my heart its name recalls
Scenes, innocent as holiness,
Steeping mine eyes in tearful bliss!
How often, when the spring-time floods,
Bursting from northern solitudes,
Have swell'd it to its giant height,
Have I repair'd to view its might,
Alone, beneath a shelving rock,
And mark'd its rude impetuous shock,
Against a promontory, set
Immoveable for ages yet:
The river, wheeling from its base—
In vain its efforts to displace
The obstructing mound—with maddening swell,
Roars like a thousand tongues of hell—
The eternal granite trembling deep,
As though 'twould start from nature's sleep.
Bursting from northern solitudes,
Have swell'd it to its giant height,
Have I repair'd to view its might,
Alone, beneath a shelving rock,
And mark'd its rude impetuous shock,
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Immoveable for ages yet:
The river, wheeling from its base—
In vain its efforts to displace
The obstructing mound—with maddening swell,
Roars like a thousand tongues of hell—
The eternal granite trembling deep,
As though 'twould start from nature's sleep.
Here I a vacant hour would spend—
And then along the beach I'd wend
To where the fishes in the boat,
Were ready on the wave to float:
How would my pulses thrilling beat,
When they'd indulge me with a seat,
While they with hopeful bosoms glad,
Would cast the seine to coil the shad.
Swifter the motion of the oar,
More high would my emotions soar;
And as the spray would dash my face,
I'd bear the bath with smiling grace.
The fishers, as they threw the net,
Would laugh to see my bosom wet;
And them with jeers I'd entertain,
Till landed on the beach again.
And then along the beach I'd wend
To where the fishes in the boat,
Were ready on the wave to float:
How would my pulses thrilling beat,
When they'd indulge me with a seat,
While they with hopeful bosoms glad,
Would cast the seine to coil the shad.
Swifter the motion of the oar,
More high would my emotions soar;
And as the spray would dash my face,
I'd bear the bath with smiling grace.
The fishers, as they threw the net,
Would laugh to see my bosom wet;
And them with jeers I'd entertain,
Till landed on the beach again.
When iron Winter held its rule,
How light of heart I've slid to school
Down the steep hills with ice o'erlaid,
So pure, Reflection was display'd
With heaven in all its charms array'd:
Its humble roof—I see it now
O'erspread with recent feather'd snow,
While on a neighboring hill am I—
The blue smoke curling to the sky:
Ah yes,—the very spot appears—
I see it through a mist of tears—
And glassy brook beneath the hill,
Which oft with answering echo shrill,
Return'd my voice obstreperous loud,
Beyond the noisy urchin crowd.
How light of heart I've slid to school
Down the steep hills with ice o'erlaid,
So pure, Reflection was display'd
With heaven in all its charms array'd:
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O'erspread with recent feather'd snow,
While on a neighboring hill am I—
The blue smoke curling to the sky:
Ah yes,—the very spot appears—
I see it through a mist of tears—
And glassy brook beneath the hill,
Which oft with answering echo shrill,
Return'd my voice obstreperous loud,
Beyond the noisy urchin crowd.
How frequent I with naked feet,
Have trip'd it o'er the frozen sleet,
While all my school-mates, master too,
Would shout a long and loud halloo.
And then to cast the snow in sport,
Would I an equal combat court;
And for the vacant hour allowed,
By feats, amuse the mirthful crowd.
Have trip'd it o'er the frozen sleet,
While all my school-mates, master too,
Would shout a long and loud halloo.
And then to cast the snow in sport,
Would I an equal combat court;
And for the vacant hour allowed,
By feats, amuse the mirthful crowd.
The villagers would oft declare,
That I was something wild and rare;
Yet ere their observations done,
Would fear I'd meet the Wicked One:
Indeed their grounds were not so slight—
For I was such a wreckless wight,
I never patiently could brook
To con the pages of the book,
Hence, where with whom that I was class'd,
My place was always numbered last.
But when on exhibition day.
'Twas mine to act some simple play,
My imitative powers would make
The rustics round with laughter shake.
That I was something wild and rare;
Yet ere their observations done,
Would fear I'd meet the Wicked One:
Indeed their grounds were not so slight—
For I was such a wreckless wight,
I never patiently could brook
To con the pages of the book,
Hence, where with whom that I was class'd,
My place was always numbered last.
But when on exhibition day.
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My imitative powers would make
The rustics round with laughter shake.
In autumn, when serene the sky,
The rising moon would fix mine eye,
Emerging from a mount of pines—
Lacing the firmament with lines
Crimson at first—but soon more clear,
They'd spread and silver o'er the sphere.
Long on the Milk-way path I'd gaze,
And startle at the meteor's blaze—
Still would I stand with fix'd intent,
T' observe along the element,
Another kindle and expire:—
Or the borealis fire
Would flash its brilliant beams afar,
Toward the north's eternal star.
The rising moon would fix mine eye,
Emerging from a mount of pines—
Lacing the firmament with lines
Crimson at first—but soon more clear,
They'd spread and silver o'er the sphere.
Long on the Milk-way path I'd gaze,
And startle at the meteor's blaze—
Still would I stand with fix'd intent,
T' observe along the element,
Another kindle and expire:—
Or the borealis fire
Would flash its brilliant beams afar,
Toward the north's eternal star.
In summer's morn, with impulse new,
How oft I've swept the early dew
To seek the swollen-udder'd cows,
Lying beneath the hawthorn boughs,
And drove them home with motion slow,
Each after each, a lengthning row,
While on vibrating air would float
Rude notes of music from my throat;
Or like the martin whistling shrill,
Till echo answer'd from each hill.
How oft I've swept the early dew
To seek the swollen-udder'd cows,
Lying beneath the hawthorn boughs,
And drove them home with motion slow,
Each after each, a lengthning row,
While on vibrating air would float
Rude notes of music from my throat;
Or like the martin whistling shrill,
Till echo answer'd from each hill.
At breathless noon, when poplars faint,
And in the pool the oxen pant,—
The house-dog stretch'd his lazy length,
Exhausted all his active strength—
The pullet spent, with lifted wing,
The birds forgot the tune they sing—
When thus creation drooping knelt
Before the sun oppressive felt,
How anxious has my eye beheld
A rising cloud o'erspread the field—
Heard the big thunder lumbering far,
Advancing on a lightning car:—
How still my breath the scene to mark—
The flash of the electric spark
Open the clouds, which close again
Ere you can glance the sulphry train—
A welt of fire, on which is scroll'd
The Deity—then instant roll'd
In heavy darkness, fearful deep,
Silent—resembling nature's sleep,—
A moment in suspense—and lo,
Th' exploding thunder peal'd below.
And in the pool the oxen pant,—
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Exhausted all his active strength—
The pullet spent, with lifted wing,
The birds forgot the tune they sing—
When thus creation drooping knelt
Before the sun oppressive felt,
How anxious has my eye beheld
A rising cloud o'erspread the field—
Heard the big thunder lumbering far,
Advancing on a lightning car:—
How still my breath the scene to mark—
The flash of the electric spark
Open the clouds, which close again
Ere you can glance the sulphry train—
A welt of fire, on which is scroll'd
The Deity—then instant roll'd
In heavy darkness, fearful deep,
Silent—resembling nature's sleep,—
A moment in suspense—and lo,
Th' exploding thunder peal'd below.
I felt emotions rapt, profound,
That kept me in amazement bound,
Till the o'erpassing cloud was spent,
And high upon the element,
Hung the bright bow in all its rays,
Which held my soul in tranquil gaze—
Burnish'd divine with radiance new,
As when creation's pencil drew
The beautious arch to speak the name
Of Him, who dwelt in Sinni's flame.
That kept me in amazement bound,
Till the o'erpassing cloud was spent,
And high upon the element,
Hung the bright bow in all its rays,
Which held my soul in tranquil gaze—
Burnish'd divine with radiance new,
As when creation's pencil drew
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Of Him, who dwelt in Sinni's flame.
These recollections—O, how sweet!
They make my heart young pulses beat,
Dispel the care from off my brow—
Methinks I feel like childhood now!
They make my heart young pulses beat,
Dispel the care from off my brow—
Methinks I feel like childhood now!
Alas, it's all but fancy's dream,
That cheats me with delusive theme.
By penury and misfortune press'd,
I'm bound an exile in the west.
Never I more shall view the bowers,
Where I in childhood gather'd flowers,
Or butterfly, pursu'd with pride,
With not a youthful nerve untried—
Or eager climb the towering hill
To view surrounding glories, till
The sun, in golden mist afar,
Descends, succeeded by the star,
Those beautious beams at dewy even,
Are first to deck the vault of heaven.
That cheats me with delusive theme.
By penury and misfortune press'd,
I'm bound an exile in the west.
Never I more shall view the bowers,
Where I in childhood gather'd flowers,
Or butterfly, pursu'd with pride,
With not a youthful nerve untried—
Or eager climb the towering hill
To view surrounding glories, till
The sun, in golden mist afar,
Descends, succeeded by the star,
Those beautious beams at dewy even,
Are first to deck the vault of heaven.
| The national jubilee, and other miscellaneous poems | |