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(Excerpt)
I PAUSE not now to speak of Raleigh’s dreams, | |
| Though they might give a loftier bard fit themes: | |
| I pause not now to tell of Ocracock, | |
| Where Saxon spray broke on the red-brown rock; | |
| Nor of my native river which glides down | 5 |
| Through scenes where rose a happy Indian town; | |
| But, leaving these and Chesapeake’s broad bay, | |
| Resume my story in the month of May, | |
| Where England’s cross—St. George’s ensign—flowed | |
| Where ne’er before emblazoned banner glowed; | 10 |
| Where English breasts throbbed fast as English eyes | |
| Looked o’er the waters with a glad surprise,— | |
| Looked gladly out upon the varied scene | |
| Where stretched the woods in all their pomp of green; | |
| Flinging great shadows, beautiful and vast | 15 |
| As e’er upon Arcadian lake were cast. | |
| Turn where they would, in what direction rove, | |
| They found some bay, or wild, romantic cove, | |
| On which they coasted through those forests dim, | |
| Wherein they heard the never-ceasing hymn | 20 |
| That swelled from all the tall, majestic pines,— | |
| Fit choristers of Nature’s sylvan shrines. | |
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| For though no priest their solitudes had trod, | |
| The trees were vocal in their praise of God. | |
| And then, when, capes and jutting headlands past, | 25 |
| The sails were furled against each idle mast, | |
| They saw the sunset in its pomp descend, | |
| And sky and water gloriously contend | |
| For gorgeousness of colors, red and gold, | |
| And tints of amethyst together rolled, | 30 |
| Making a scene of splendor and of rest | |
| As vanquished day lit camp-fires in the West. | |
| And when the light grew faint on wave and strand, | |
| New beauties woke in this enchanted land, | |
| For through heaven’s lattice-work of crimson bars | 35 |
| Like angels looked the bright eternal stars, | |
| And then, when gathered tints of purplish brown, | |
| A golden sickle, reaping darkness down, | |
| The new moon shone above the lofty trees, | |
| Which made low music in the evening breeze,— | 40 |
| The breeze which floating blandly from the shore | |
| The perfumed breath of flowering jasmine bore; | |
| For smiling Spring had kissed its clustering vines, | |
| And breathed her fragrance on the lofty pines. | |
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