Or seemed to sigh, as oft their winged haste lived Thou may'st have Beneath the light of later days, when man With feet free-roving as the homeless wind, Scaled the thick-mantled height, coursed plains unshorn, Breaking the solitude of nature's haunt With voice that seemed to blend, in one sweet strain, And when against his infant frame they rose, A glory richer than to proudest king, Upon the barren air. E'en though thou stood. The first-love of the stars and sighing winds, TO THE CANARY BIRD. I CANNOT hear thy voice with others' ears, Past days of joy should through thy memory And each to thee their words of sorrow tell, NATURE. NATURE! my love for thee is deeper far THE TREE. I LOVE thee when thy swelling buds appear And through thy leafless arms to look above On stars that brighter beam when most we need their love. |