212 MYSTERIES:
Ah! the sweet scents of the woods !
Ah! the sweet sounds of the heaven!
Sights of impetuous floods,
Foam like the daisy at even,
Folding o’er passionate gold petals that sunrise had
riven!
See, like my life is the stream
Now its desire is grown quiet;
Life was a passionate dream
Once, when light fancy ran riot,
Now, ere youth fades, flows in peace past woody bank
and green eyot.
Highest, white heather and rock,
Mountain and pine, with young laughter,
Breezes that murmur and mock
Duller delights to come after,
Wild as a swallow that dives whither the sea wind
_ would waft her.
Lower, an ocean of flowers,
Trees that are warmer and leafier,
Starrier, sunnier hours
Spurning the stain of all grief here,
Bringing a quiet delight to us, beyond our belief,
here. :
Lastly, the uttermost sea,
Starred with the flakes of spray sunlit,
Blue as its caverns that be