Poems eBook

Denis Florence MacCarthy
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 106 pages of information about Poems.
me there. 
      The echo bursting from the dell,
    Recalled her song beside my bed;
      The hill-side with its sunny swell,
    Her bosom-pillow for my head. 
      The breathing lake at even-tide,
    When o’er it fell the down of night,
      Seemed the sweet heaven, which by her side,
    I found in childhood’s dreams of light: 
      And morning, as it brightly broke,
    And blessed the hills with joyous dyes,
      Was like her look, when first I woke,
    And found her gazing in my eyes.


      “Nature became my idol; wood,
    Wave, wilderness,—­I loved them all;
      I loved the forest and the solitude,
    That brooded o’er the waterfall,—­
      I loved the autumn winds that flew
    Between the swaying boughs at night,
      And from their whispers fondly drew
    Wild woven dreams of lone delight. 
      I loved the stars, and musing sought
    To read them in their depths of blue—­
      My fancy spread her sail of thought,
    And o’er that sea of azure flew. 
      Hovering in those blest paths afar,
    The wheeling planets seem to trace,
      My spirit found some islet-star,
    And chose it for its dwelling-place. 
      I loved the morn, and ere the lay
    Of plaintive meadow-lark began,
      ’Mid dewy shrubs I tore my way,
    Up the wild crag where waters ran. 
      I listened to the babbling tide,
    And thought of childhood’s merry morn,—­
      I listened to the bird that tried
    Prelusive airs, amid the thorn. 
      And then I went upon my way;
    Yet ere the sunrise kissed my cheek,
      I stood upon the forehead gray
    Of some lone mountain’s dizzy peak. 
      A ruddy light was on the hill,
    But shadows in the valley slept;
      A white mist rested o’er the rill,
    And shivering leaves with tear-drops wept. 
      The sun came up, and nature woke,
    As from a deep and sweet repose;
      From every bush soft music broke,
    And blue wreaths from each chimney rose. 
      From the green vale that lay below. 
    Full many a carol met my ear;
      The boy that drove the teeming cow. 
    And sung or whistled in his cheer;
      The dog that by his master’s side,
    Made the lone copse with echoes ring: 
      The mill that whirling in the tide,
    Seemed with a droning voice to sing;
      The lowing herd, the bleating flock,
    And many a far-off murmuring wheel: 
      Each sent its music up the rock,
    And woke my bosom’s echoing peal.


Project Gutenberg
Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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