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From its full laver, pours the white cascade ; And, babbling low amid the tangled woods, Slips down through moss-grown stones with
endless laughter. And frequent, on the everlasting hills, Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself In all the dark embroidery of the storm, And shouts the stern, strong wind. And
here, amid The silent majesty of these deep woods, Its presence shall uplift thy thoughts from
earth, As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted
bards Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades. For them there was an eloquent voice in all The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle
winds,The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes,
Groves, through whose broken roof the sky
looks in, Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale, The distant lake, fountains,—and mighty trees, In many a lazy syllable, repeating Their old poetic legends to the wind.
And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill The world; and, in these wayward days of
youth, My busy fancy oft embodies it, As a bright image of the light and beauty That dwell in nature,—of the heavenly forms We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the
clouds When the sun sets. Within her eye The heaven of April, with its changing light, And when it wears the blue of May, is hung, And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair Is like the summer tresses of the trees, When twilight makes them brown, and on
her cheek Blushes the richness of an autumn sky,
With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath,
BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK.
On sunny slope and beechen swell,
Far upward in the mellow light
But soon a funeral hymn was heard Where the soft breath of evening stirred The tall, gray forest; and a band Of stern in heart, and strong in hand, Came winding down beside the wave, To lay the red chief in his grave.
They sang, that by his native bowers
A dark cloak of the roebuck's skin Covered the warrior, and within Its heavy folds the weapons, made For the hard toils of war, were laid ; The cuirass, woven of plaited reeds, And the broad belt of shells and beads.
Before, a dark-haired virgin train
Stripped of his proud and martial dress, Uncurbed, unreined, and riderless,