University of Virginia Library

Bitter-Sweet Rocks

There is no spot so lonely, rough, and wild,
But Nature doth, with careful fingers, deck
With flowers, or vines, or ferns, or soft green moss,
To give to those, who to such haunts may stray,
A sweet surprise, a pleasure all their own.
To such a spot, an unfrequented dell,
When Autumn comes, some warm October day,
I love to wander, and in silence muse.
O'er rocky hills, where cattle roam and feed,
Cropping the meadows and the pastures green,
My way I take; pausing at times to view
The city's spires, or ocean's blue expanse;
Then down the narrow glen, shady and still,
Save when some startled bird has taken to flight,
Or cricket's song amid the grass is heard.
Here from the cliff whose vast rocks have fallen,
Thrown down by some convulsion, or by frost;
And at its base lie in confusion piled.
But not neglected doth this ruin lie,
For here a beauteous show hath Nature wrought
For those, who to this lonely spot have come.
Among these broken rocks the bitter-sweet
Has taken root, and clasped the fragments round
In close embrace, covering the mossy rocks
With leafy screen; where clustering bunches hang
Of purest gold. And, sight most beautiful!
As Nature sought yet more to please and charm;
Up to the very top of a high tree,
Which rooted grows amid'st the fallen crags,
A vine has clomb; and every bough and twig
Is laden with its golden berries ripe,
And from the top in gay festoons they hang;
Giving a wondrous beauty to the place.