"OH FAIREST OF THE RURAL MAIDS." 135 "OH FAIREST OF THE RURAL MAIDS." Он fairest of the rural maids! Thy birth was in the forest shades; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, The twilight of the trees and rocks Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene The forest depths, by foot unpressed, "I BROKE THE SPELL THAT HELD ME LONG." I BROKE the spell that held me long, The dear, dear witchery of song. Shall waste my prime of years no more, I broke the spell-nor deemed its power Could fetter me another hour. Ah, thoughtless! how could I forget Its causes were around me yet? For wheresoe'er I looked, the while, Was nature's everlasting smile. Still came and lingered on my sight Of flowers and streams the bloom and light, And glory of the stars and sun;— And these and poetry are one. They, ere the world had held me long, Recalled me to the love of song. JUNE. 137 JUNE. I GAZED upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round; And thought that when I came to lie Within the silent ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June, When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, A cell within the frozen mould, A coffin borne through sleet, And icy clods above it rolled, While fierce the tempests beat Away! I will not think of these- There through the long, long summer hours, The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by. The oriole should build and tell His love-tale close beside my cell; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard And what if cheerful shouts at noon Or Come, from the village sent, songs of maids, beneath the moon With fairy laughter blent? And what if, in the evening light, Of my low monument? I would the lovely scene around Might know no sadder sight nor sound. I know, I know I should not see The season's glorious show, But if, around my place of sleep, The friends I love should come to weep, They might not haste to go. JUNE. Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom, These to their softened hearts should bear Is that his grave is green; And deeply would their hearts rejoice 139 |