 | The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems |  |
[Come, sit thee down beside me—I would rest]
Come, sit thee down beside me—I would rest,Upon this bed of sedge—the rivulet near,
Meanwhile, will send up to the watchful ear,
Some gentle murmurs, like a song, represt,
By tears of the sad heart that pours it out!—
I do remember, it is now about
A score of summers, since I laid me down,
Beside this little streamiet, as I left
The noise and the confusion of yon town,
To which I now return—of wealth, bereft,
But visions, full and flowing, yet to come;—
My heart was glowing then in primal bloom—
This rivulet, glided on, as it doth now—
Yet—mark the life of changes on my brow!
| The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems | |