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| ’T WAS a vision of childhood that came with its dawn, | |
| Ere the curtain that covered life’s day-star was drawn; | |
| The nurse told the tale when the shadows grew long, | |
| And the mother’s soft lullaby breathed it in song. | |
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| “There flows a fair stream by the hills of the west,”— | 5 |
| She sang to her boy as he lay on her breast; | |
| “Along its smooth margin thy fathers have played; | |
| Beside its deep waters their ashes are laid.” | |
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| I wandered afar from the land of my birth, | |
| I saw the old rivers, renowned upon earth, | 10 |
| But fancy still painted that wide-flowing stream | |
| With the many-hued pencil of infancy’s dream. | |
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| I saw the green banks of the castle-crowned Rhine, | |
| Where the grapes drink the moonlight and change it to wine; | |
| I stood by the Avon, whose waves as they glide | 15 |
| Still whisper his glory who sleeps at their side. | |
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| But my heart would still yearn for the sound of the waves | |
| That sing as they flow by my forefathers’ graves; | |
| If manhood yet honors my cheek with a tear, | |
| I care not who sees it,—no blush for it here! | 20 |
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| Farewell to the deep-bosomed stream of the West! | |
| I fling this loose blossom to float on its breast; | |
| Nor let the dear love of its children grow cold, | |
| Till the channel is dry where its waters have rolled! | |
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