A SUMMER RAMBLE. THE quiet August noon has come, And mark yon soft white clouds that rest Above our vale, a moveless throng; The cattle on the mountain's breast Enjoy the grateful shadow long. Oh, how unlike those merry hours When in the grass sweet voices talk, From every nameless blossom's bell. But now a joy too deep for sound, A peace no other season knows, Hushes the heavens and wraps the ground, The blessing of supreme repose. Away! I will not be, to-day, The only slave of toil and care. Away from desk and dust! away! I'll be as idle as the air. Beneath the open sky abroad, Among the plants and breathing things, The sinless, peaceful works of God, I'll share the calm the season brings. Come, thou, in whose soft eyes I see And where, upon the meadow's breast, The blue wild flowers thou gatherest Shall glow yet deeper near thine eyes. Come, and when mid the calm profound, Rest here, beneath the unmoving shade, Winding and widening, till they fade The village trees their summits rear One tranquil mount the scene o'erlooksThere the hushed winds their sabbath keep While a near hum from bees and brooks Comes faintly like the breath of sleep. Well may the gazer deem that when, Like this deep quiet that, awhile, Welcomes him to a happier shore. A SCENE ON THE BANKS OF THE HUDSON. CooL shades and dews are round my way, And silence of the early day; Mid the dark rocks that watch his bed, Glitters the mighty Hudson spread, Unrippled, save by drops that fall From shrubs that fringe his mountain wall; And o'er the clear still water swells The music of the Sabbath bells. All, save this little nook of land Seems a blue void, above, below, Through which the white clouds come and go, And from the green world's farthest steep Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour From which its yearnings cannot save. River! in this still hour thou hast Too much of heaven on earth to last; Nor long may thy still waters lie, An image of the glorious sky. |