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(From Joan of Arc)
AMID these wilds | |
| Often to summer pasture have I driven | |
| The flock; and well I know these woodland wilds, | |
| And every bosomed vale and valley stream | |
| Is dear to memory. I have laid me down | 5 |
| Beside yon valley stream, that up the ascent | |
| Scarce sends the sound of waters now, and watched | |
| The beck roll glittering to the noontide sun, | |
| And listened to its ceaseless murmuring, | |
| Till all was hushed and tranquil in my soul, | 10 |
| Filled with a strange and undefined delight | |
| That passed across the mind like summer clouds | |
| Over the vale at eve; their fleeting hues | |
| The traveller cannot trace with memory’s eye, | |
| Yet he remembers well how fair they were, | 15 |
How beautiful.
In solitude and peace | |
| Here I grew up, amid the loveliest scenes | |
| Of unpolluted nature. Sweet it was, | |
| As the white mists of morning rolled away, | |
| To see the upland’s wooded heights appear | 20 |
| Dark in the early dawn, and mark the slope | |
| With gorse-flowers glowing, as the sun illumed | |
| Their golden glory with his deepening light; | |
| Pleasant at noon beside the vocal brook | |
| To lay me down, and watch the floating clouds, | 25 |
| And shape to fancy’s wild similitudes | |
| Their ever-varying forms; and O, how sweet! | |
| To drive my flock at evening to the fold, | |
| And hasten to our little hut, and hear | |
| The voice of kindness bid me welcome home. | 30 |
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