Poems (Hornblower)/Verses (I was within a home, where nature smiled)
For works with similar titles, see Verses.
VERSES.
I was within a home, where nature smiled,In perfect loveliness—a range of hills,As pure a blue as ever blest the heaven,Bounding the horizon—the autumnal fieldsIn rich profusion waving—every hedgeAnd little bank with brightest fragrance blooming—In the dark lanes, shadowed with deepest green,The wild flowers springing, fading, and renewingFrom day to day then- blossom, till the eyeDrank beauty carelessly, and the hand rovedFrom bud to bud, almost unconsciously,So wildly fresh they grew; the hare-bell thereUpraised its little head of tender blue,To the gale trembling; and the woodbine wreathsLuxuriantly wound about the trees,With ivy intertwined, and forest shrubs;The pale rose, there expanding, poured its slightAnd rare perfume, and the dark crimson oneBlushed out its sweetness on the quiet air. Our music was the warbling of a choir,Whose little throats, of heaven-taught melody,Are never out of tune: the only other,The artless strains of rustic gratitude,Waked on the Sabbath morn, when simple heartsLift up then homage to the God who made them.
The home we dwelt in was in a seclusionThat did admit of none but nature's world;The busy throngs of life were far away—The rocks, the lulls, the valleys, and the woodsBecame our company—we haunted them,And in return they breathed upon our soulsTheir own blest stillness, and the shade of peace.But I was not alone; for there were heartsThat gazed and felt as I did—throbbed like mine,At sights of grandeur and sublimity,And worshipped nature in the self-same faith.But they are severed now—in separate pathsOrdained to walk, and to each one assignedTheir own peculiar joys and pains, no moreTogether to be shared—they met and parted,As those who must have no continuance here.