Poems (Taggart)/To a Once Frequented Retreat

by Cynthia Taggart

TO A ONCE FREQUENTED RETREAT. 1825.

Thou verdant vale of willows fair,
O might I 'neath those boughs repair,
  At evening's tranquil hour,
Or when the blushing morn serene
Glides o'er the azure crystal sheen,
And lucid drops of pearl are seen
  Within thy fragrant bower.

There, ocean's distant murmurs low.
And the clear, sparkling streamlet's flow
  The pleased attention greet;
And on the verdant margin gay
The flowerets bloom in bright array,
And o'er the leaves fond zephyrs play
  Æolian numbers sweet.

There Nature's lovely charms combine,
And through the soul a thrill divine
  Of untold bliss inspire,—
Inspire to reach yon azure plain,
The seraph seats of glory gain,
Where harps melodious pour the strain
  That spirits rapt admire.

And when the day's declining hour
Succeeds with mild and pleasing power
  Of mellow light refined;
When the charmed zephyr folds his wing,
And the glad birds enamoured sing,
Their vesper warblings sweetly bring
  Peace to the wearied mind.

Alas! the stream of Health no more
Will through life's languid currents pour
  Her mild and genial sway;
Nor can the beauties of the plain,
With all their balmy gifts, restrain
The agony of poignant pain,—
  The wastings of decay.

Health from that blooming bower was gone,
When suppliant there I could but mourn
  That her reviving breath
No more would fan my aching brow,
Nor hope within my breast allow,
Nor fell, unyielding sickness bow
  Her gentle power beneath.

No more, on me. Earth's treasures shed
Their healing power; the balsam's fled
  From Nature's balmy breath;
No more this wasted frame again
Trips lightly o'er the flowery plain,
But on the couch of withering pain
  Sinks in untimely death.