NATURE'S BEAUTY.
I looked on Nature's beauty, and it came
Like a blest spirit to my inmost heart,
And darkness fled away. The fragrant breeze
Swept o'er me, as a tale of other times,
Lifting the curtain from the ancient cells
Of early memory. The young vine put forth
Her quivering tendrils, while the patron bough
Lured their light clasping with that lore which leaves
Do whisper to each other, when they lean
To drink the music of the summer-shower.
There was a sound of wings, and through the mesh
Of her green-latticed chamber, stole the bird
To cheer her callow young. The stream flowed on,
And on its lake-like breast, the bending trees
Did glass themselves with such serene repose,
That their still haunt seemed holy. The spent sun
Turned to his rest, and full his parting ray
To mountain-top, and spire, and verdant grove,
And burnished casement, and reposing nest,
Spake benediction. And the vesper-strain
Went breathing up from every plant and flower.
The rose did fold itself, as at the cry
From the high minaret, "to prayer! to prayer!"
The Moslem kneels; and the half-sleeping eye
Of the young violet, looked devoutly forth,
Like the meek shepherd from his cottage door,
When the clear horn doth warn the Alpine cliffs,
To praise the Lord. And then the queenly Moon
