Feeds its deep roots, and with the bulging flank
Of its wide base controls the fronting bank,
(By the slant current’s pressure scoop’d away
The fronting bank becomes a foam-piled bay)
High in the Fork the uncouth Idol knits
His channel’d Brows; low murmurs stir by fits
And dark below the horrid Faquir sits;
An Horror from its broad Head’s branchy wreath
Broods o’er the rude Idolatry beneath–
A Willow and a ruined Hut,And thee, and me, and Mary there.O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!Bend o’er us, like a bower, my beautiful green Willow!A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,And that and summer well agreeAnd lo! where Mary leans her head,Two dear names carved upon the tree!And Mary’s tears, they are not…
The best belov’d, who loveth me the best,is for the heart, what the supporting air from within is for the hollow globe with its suspended car. Deprive it of this, and all without, that would have buoyed it aloft even to the seat of the gods, becomes a burthen and crushes it into flatness.II.The finer…
The only constant in a world of change,O yearning THOUGHT ! that liv’st but in the brain ?Call to the HOURS, that in the distance play,The faery people of the future day– —Fond THOUGHT ! not one of all that shining swarmWill breathe on thee with life-enkindling breath,Till when, like strangers shelt’ring from a storm,Hope…
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters, pale,I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale!Yet tho’ the hours flew by on careless wing,Full heavily of sorrow would I sing.Aye as the star of evening flung its beamIn broken radiance on the wavy stream,My soul amid the pensive twilight gloomMourned with the breeze, O, Lee Boo!…
Halcyon daughter of the skies,Far on fearful wing she flies,From the pomp of scepter’d state,From the rebel’s noisy hate.In a cottaged vale she dwellsList’ning to the Sabbath bells!Still around her steps are seen,Spotless honor’s meeker mien,Love, the sire of pleasing fears,Sorrow smiling through her tears,And conscious of the past employ,Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
