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MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS
The Oak on the Mountain's Summit
| Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand, — |
| Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand, — |
| Nature divine, in harmony profound, |
| With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round. |
| And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place |
| Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace, — |
| And from thy lofty summit, pouring down |
| Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown? |
| Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel, |
| To my lone heart thou art a power and spell; |
| A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me |
| To love the Hebrew figure of a tree. |
| Faithful and patient be my life as thine; |
| As strong to wrestle with the storms of time; |
| As deeply rooted in a soil of love; |
| As grandly rising to the heavens above. |
Isle of Wight
Written on receiving a painting of the Isle
| Isle of beauty, thou art singing |
| To my sense a sweet refrain; |
| To my busy memory bringing |
| Scenes that I would see again. |
