Year: 1863

A soft, bright dream of the woods and hills,
OF the dripping rocks and the dashing rils,
A murmur of epghs by the hreezes stirr'd,
And strange wet sounds thro' the twilight
heard W.


Come over NJ j sou and away hy
To the violets haunt and the summer sky;
There's an odor of leaves in the dusky noon,
And the note of bird in my silent room.
am borne afar from the paths of men,
To the twinkling shade and the budding glen;
.l~hear the step of the spirit that broods
O'er the moonlight aisles of the dim old woods
hear his whisper floating by
Betwixt the boughs and the crystal sky;
The lily hides in the messy nook,
Where the leaf to the blast of December shook
And drowsy murmur of bees and streams
Is bringing me back my youthful dreams.
roam apart on the brow of the hill,
The skies are blue and the woods are still;
The world is gone, have burst its chain,
hear the voices of eld again,


With the bird and the brook and the greenwood


tree,


My heart is light and my step is free.
A glimIner of'streams and breath of flowers y
Is waking tone of the vanished hours;
/ meet the eyes that were bright erewhile,
1 bask in the light of sisters smile;
The pleasant sun streams in on the floor,
There's shadow of one at the open door,
And welcome guest to the household band
! feel the clasp of brothers. hand
In my mothers glance is world OF joy,
And | stand at her side dreaming boy;
There are sunny eyes and a joyous shout,
And the music of laughter ringing OUT
There's a rush of feet from the murmurine


school,


And pash of stones in the dusky pool.
rove apart on the velvet hill,
But the winds and leaves are no longer still
On the heavy breeze is a>sense of gloom,
Mike that which broods in stifed tomb;
The sun in tile sky has warning glare,
And horror creeps through the sallow air;
" The rocking pines have deeper tone,
And the wales send up smothered moan,
Like waves that tumble and break'aud pour
On the battled rocks of some distant shore;
Strange sounds in the depths of the woods awake
The stems with nameless horror shake;
He is girding in wrath his towering form,
And wait for the bursting Of the storm.
On the brown, hot stones is patter OF rain,
a There is rolling of grass on the darkened plain
As, when the spirit of storms will break
On the wild mid-sea or the rock-bound lake,
With plunge and roar in the foamy race,
A billow the foaming billow may chase.
He is moving down, his banner uufurl'd
In gloom on tlG edge of a quakiDg world;
He is rushing down in his iron course,
With the roar and tramp of Il thousand horse,
When rider and steed and heln are rolled
In dust, with the spear and the banner-fold,
And the slippery plain and the ringing glen
Are heaped with mangled and ghastly men.
He comes, he comes; lie is rolling on,
And shrink in dread from the terrible one;
The willow covers as his wing descends,
The valleys groan and the mountains nod;
The larch in the path of the conqueror bends, :.
And the maple rocks in the breath of God.
On the hills IS q crash of the warrior oak,
Who strove till the fre-bolt over him broke,
And the beeches writhe and twist with the pair
OF the barbed blast and the roaring rain.
He is past ! hear the hollow jar
OF his trampling wheels, as tides afat;
There's Il fresher gleam on the springng grass
And a sweeter smile on the fountains glass;
There's globe of fire on the aspen stem,
,!ni every blade has a diadem,


And the robin is pouring gadder strain,
Fosthe bursting cloud and the rushing rain.


NAPIER.


Wide-World Jonuary l863