GREEN RIVER. WHEN breezes are soft and skies are fair, I steal an hour from study and care, And hie me away to the woodland scene, Where wanders the stream with waters of green, As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink Had given their stain to the wave they drink ; And they, whose meadows it murmurs through, Have named the stream from its own fair hue. Yet pure its waters-its shallows are bright With colored pebbles and sparkles of light, And clear the depths where its eddies play, And the plane-tree's speckled arms o'ershoot Through whose shifting leaves, as you walk the hill, The quivering glimmer of sun and rill With a sudden flash on the eye is thrown, Like the ray that streams from the diamond stone. Oh, loveliest there the spring days come, In silence and sunshine glides away. Yet, fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide, Beautiful stream! by the village side; But windest away from haunts of men, That fairy music I never hear, Nor gaze on those waters so green and clear, And mark them winding away from sight, To wander these quiet haunts with thee, Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men, And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, And mingle among the jostling crowd, Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud I often come to this quiet place, To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face, And gaze upon thee in silent dream, For in thy lonely and lovely stream An image of that calm life appears A WINTER PIECE. THE time has been that these wild solitudes, And seek the woods. The sunshine on my path |