Poems of leisure . lowing herds upon the amaret of mountain lofty peaks, those pearly streams,Enchantment of a place elfin,Worhiped as thy mountain shrine,Now trembling neath a witches spell,Bid them a long, a last farewell,A wistful o-lance, a last fond augur from the sable rook,Whose solo on the breezes roll,Precursinjr anouish to thy soul—^ List thou, the linnets ringing note, Those gifts of nature learned by rote. The carols sweet of others song. Whose dulcet notes its strains prolong, As vaulting echoes faintly ring. Trilling softly on the wing.
Poems of leisure . lowing herds upon the amaret of mountain lofty peaks, those pearly streams,Enchantment of a place elfin,Worhiped as thy mountain shrine,Now trembling neath a witches spell,Bid them a long, a last farewell,A wistful o-lance, a last fond augur from the sable rook,Whose solo on the breezes roll,Precursinjr anouish to thy soul—^ List thou, the linnets ringing note, Those gifts of nature learned by rote. The carols sweet of others song. Whose dulcet notes its strains prolong, As vaulting echoes faintly ring. Trilling softly on the wing. They sound the requiem solemn knell. Where all thy terene pleasures dwell, Bv this wands enchanted well I iuirl you all to seething hell. With warding vengeance at his hand. Poems of Leisure. 153 lie plucked, eer thought the waving waiul,And by a stroke and word, ^?ali vis,He said, Begone, beguiling miss,Pis tny coniniand to master eer her wish had lost its spell,He sent the witch headlonji; to 154 Poems of Leisure. LAURINE. I. Beneath the pendant boughs of a Brave old oak, on whose branches hiy Memories hushed of centuries gone; Might have been seen of late years long, As the sun was sending a last Kiss of departing day, the cast Of a wizard, or mystic saint, In the personage of a quaint Old man, whom the people called crazd. In the rear of the old tree raisd A tumulus, a man-made mountain (i ) Tomb of the dead, a grand fountain Of rare knowledge. Beyond the mound. Not distant far, may yet be found, Beside a laughing brook, his hut Of birchen tree. The wild nut. With now and then a dainty taste Of herb, or ripe fruit, plucked in haste As he wandered from his hut down The wild brook to the fabld mound. Formed his only diet. The stream That nmrmured at his feet in sheen Ripplets and eddying pools gavj Him drink. The debris from the grave Of some long lost race gave him food For his mind. Any eve 3ou could See him crouchd beneath that old tree And in his eager h
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidpoemsofleisu, bookyear1890
