66 OH, FAIREST OF THE RURAL

MAIDS."

OH, fairest of the rural maids!

Thy birth was in the forest shades ; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky,

Were all that met thine infant eye.

Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were ever in the sylvan wild ;
And all the beauty of the place
Is in thy heart and on thy face.

The twilight of the trees and rocks Is in the light shade of thy locks; Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Its playful way among the leaves.

Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen;

Their lashes are the herbs that look

On their young figures in the brook.

The forest depths, by foot unpressed, Are not more sinless than thy breast; The holy peace, that fills the air

Of those calm solitudes, is there.

“I BROKE THE SPELL THAT HELD

ME LONG."

I BROKE the spell that held me long,
The dear, dear witchery of song.
I said, the poet's idle lore

Shall waste my prime of years no more,
For Poetry, though heavenly born,
Consorts with poverty and scorn.

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.

I GAZED upon the glorious sky

And the green mountains round; And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the 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,
The rich, green mountain turf should break.

A cell within the frozen mould,

A coffin borne through sleet,