130 GEORGE 1). PRENTICE. [1830-40. E'er came down to the everlasting depths Of these dark solitudes. How oft we gaze With awe or admiration on the new And unfamiliar, but pass coldly by The lovelier and the mightier ! Wonder- ful Is this lone world of darkness and of gloom, But far more wonderful yon outer world Lit by the glorious sun. These arches swell Sublime in lone and dim magnificence. But how sublimer God's blue canopy Beleaguered with his burning cherubim Keeping their watch eternal! Beautiful Ai-e all the thousand snow-white gems that lie In these mysterious chamber3, gleaming out Amid the melancholy gloom, and wild These rocky hills and cliffs, and gulfs, but far More beautiful and wild the things that greet The wanderer in our world of light — the stars Floating on high like islands of the blest — The autumn sunsets glowing like the gate Of far-off Paradise ; the gorgeous clouds On which the glories of the earth and sky Meet and commingle ; earth's unnumbered flow^ers All turning up their gentle eyes to heaven ; The birds, with bright wings glancing in the sun, Filling the air with rainbow miniatures ; The green old forests surging in the gale ; The everlasting mountains, on whose peaks The setting sun burns like an altar-flame ; And ocean, like a pure heart rendering back Heaven's perfect image, or in his wild wrath Heaving and tossing like the stormy breast Of a chained giant in his agony. TO AN ABSENT WIFE.* 'Tis Morn : — the sea breeze seems to bring Joy, health, and freshness on its wing ; Bright flowers, to me all strange and new, Are glittering in the early dew, And perfumes rise from every grove. As incense to the clouds that move Like spirits o'er yon welkin clear, — But I am sad — thou art not here ! 'Tis Noon : — a calm, unbroken sleep Is on the blue waves of the deep ; A soft haze, like a fairy dream. Is floating over wood and stream, And many a broad magnolia flower, Within its shadowy woodland bower, Is gleaming like a lovely star, — But I am sad — thou art afar ! 'Tis Eve : — on earth the sunset skies Are pahiting their own Eden dyes ; The stars come dow-n and trembling glow, Like blossoms on the waves below. And like an unseen sprite, the breeze Seems lingering 'midst these orange-trees, Breathing its music round the spot, — But I am sad — I see thee not ! 'Tis Midnight: — with a soothing spell The far-off tones of ocean swell — • Soft as a mother's cadence mild, Low bending o'er her sleeping child ; And on each wandering breeze are heard The rich notes of the mocking-bird. In many a wild and wondrous lay, — But I am sad — thou art away ! I sink in dreams : — low, sweet, and clear, Thy own dear voice is in my ear : — Around my cheek thy tresses twine — Thy own loved hand is clasped in mine — Thy ovm soft lip to mine is pressed — Thy head is pillowed on my breast ; Oh, I have all my heart holds dear, And I am hap]iy — thou art here !
- AVrittcu at Biloxi.
