RETURN TO CONNECTICUT.
Hail native Earth!—from brighter climes returning,
From richer scenes the ravished eye that cheer,
From palace roofs, and skies with glory burning,
Where changeless Summer decks the joyous year
With golden fruits, and verdure never sere.
Still leaps my heart to mark thy rugged crest,
Thy village spires, and mansions rude, though dear;
Still to my fervent lip thy sod is prest,
As the weaned infant clings close to its mother's breast.
Thou hast no mountain peering to the cloud,
No boundless river for the poet's lyre,
Nor mighty cataract thundering far and loud,
Nor red volcano, opening through its pyre
A safety-valve to earth's deep, central fire;
Nor dread glacier nor forest's awful frown,
Yet turn thy sons to thee with fond desire,
And from Niagara's pride, or Andes' crown,
In thy scant, noteless vales, delight to lay them down.
Thou art a Spartan mother, and from sleep
Thy hardy sons at early dawn dost call,
Though winds or storms, a sullen vigil keep,
Some goodly task proportioning to all.
Warning to fly from sloth and folly's thrall,
And patient meet the tempest or the thorn;
Nor ermine robe thou giv'st, nor silken pall,
Nor gilded boon of bloated luxury born
To bid the pampered soul its lowly brother scorn.
