One would hear so very oft? At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Quickly break her prison-string, Pleasure never is at home. J. Keats CCCXIX WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING I heard a thousand blended notes In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, The budding twigs spread out their fan And I must think, do all I can, If this belief from heaven be sent, W. Wordsworth CCCXX RUTH: OR THE INFLUENCES OF NATURE When Ruth was left half desolate And she had made a pipe of straw, Beneath her father's roof, alone She seem'd to live; her thoughts her own; Herself her own delight : Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay; And passing thus the live-long day, She grew to woman's height. There came a youth from Georgia's shore A military casque he wore With splendid feathers drest; He brought them from the Cherokees; The feathers nodded in the breeze And made a gallant crest. From Indian blood you deem him sprung : And, when America was free With hues of genius on his cheek, In finest tones the youth could speak : The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run He was a lovely youth! I guess The panther in the wilderness Was not so fair as he; And when he chose to sport and play, No dolphin ever was so gay Upon the tropic sea. Among the Indians he had fought; Of pleasure and of fear; Such tales as, told to any maid By such a youth, in the green shade, He told of girls, a happy rout ! Who quit their fold with dance and shout, Their pleasant Indian town, To gather strawberries all day long; When daylight is gone down. He spake of plants that hourly change Their blossoms, through a boundless range Of intermingling hues ; With budding, fading, faded flowers, They stand the wonder of the bowers From morn to evening dews. He told of the magnolia, spread The cypress and her spire; -Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam. The youth of green savannahs spake, Of islands, that together lie 'How pleasant,' then he said, 'it were In sunshine or in shade To wander with an easy mind, And build a household fire, and find A home in every glade ! 'What days and what bright years! Ah me! Our life were life indeed, with thee So pass'd in quiet bliss; And all the while,' said he, 'to know That we were in a world of woe, And then he sometimes interwove 'Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me Our shed at night to rear; Or run, my own adopted bride, 'Beloved Ruth !'-No more he said. She thought again—and did agree 'And now, as fitting is and right, Even so they did; and I may say Through dream and vision did she sink, But, as you have before been told, So beautiful, through savage lands The wind, the tempest roaring high, Whatever in those climes he found Irregular in sight or sound Did to his mind impart A kindred impulse, seem'd allied To his own powers, and justified Nor less, to feed voluptuous thought, The beauteous forms of Nature wrought, Fair trees and gorgeous flowers; The breezes their own languor lent; The stars had feelings, which they sent Into those favour'd bowers. Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween |