FOREFATHERS' ROCK.
235
From the deep, dim woods did thy prayer ascend,
When thou watchedst the evening shadows blend?
Like incense from out the fragrant sod,
Didst thou pour thy spirit-voice abroad,
Hallowing the woods, so dark and dim,
With the solemn sound of thy vesper-hymn?
When thou watchedst the evening shadows blend?
Like incense from out the fragrant sod,
Didst thou pour thy spirit-voice abroad,
Hallowing the woods, so dark and dim,
With the solemn sound of thy vesper-hymn?
Ah! who may tell? there are none on earth
That may tell of thee, of thy timid work,
Of the love that dwelt in thy quiet breast,
For all earth's children, pure, unsuppressed.
We know not if beauty upon thy brow
Had placed her signet;—what matter, now?
We only know that thy foot trod here,
That thy name was Mary—that thou wert dear;
For every one hath some kindred heart,
As every soul hath a better part;
That at last thine eyes saw the stars no more,
And thy spirit went to the unknown shore.
That may tell of thee, of thy timid work,
Of the love that dwelt in thy quiet breast,
For all earth's children, pure, unsuppressed.
We know not if beauty upon thy brow
Had placed her signet;—what matter, now?
We only know that thy foot trod here,
That thy name was Mary—that thou wert dear;
For every one hath some kindred heart,
As every soul hath a better part;
That at last thine eyes saw the stars no more,
And thy spirit went to the unknown shore.
