They met me in a genial hour, When universal nature breathed As with the breath of one sweet flower,- Of discontent, and check the birth Of thoughts with better thoughts at strife. Since parting innocence bequeathed Soft clouds, the whitest of the year, Sailed through the sky-the brooks ran clear; The faith with which it then was cheered; Destined, whate'er their earthly doom, For mercy and immortal bloom! RUTH. WHEN Ruth was left half desolate, And she had made a pipe of straw, Beneath her father's roof, alone She seemed to live; her thoughts her own; Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay; She grew to woman's height. There came a youth from Georgia's shoreA military casque he wore, With splendid feathers drest; He brought them from the Cherokees; The feathers nodded in the breeze, And made a gallant crest. From Indian blood you deem him sprung: From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came. With hues of genius on his cheek, In finest tones the youth could speak: The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run, He was a lovely youth! I guess And when he chose to sport and play, Upon the tropic sea. Among the Indians he had fought; Such tales as told to any maid By such a youth, in the green shade, He told of girls-a happy rout! Who quit their fold with dance and shout, To gather strawberries all day long; When daylight is gone down. He spake of plants divine and strange With budding, fading, faded flowers He told of the magnolia spread The cypress and her spire; Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam The youth of green savannahs spake, Of islands, that together lie And then he said, "How sweet it were A gardener in the shade, Still wandering with an easy mind To build a household fire, and find A home in every glade! "What days and what sweet years! Ah me! Our life were life indeed, with thee So passed in quiet bliss, And all the while," said he, " to know And then he sometimes interwove "Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me My helpmate in the woods to be, Our shed at night to rear? Or run, my own adopted bride, And drive the flying deer? "Beloved Ruth!"-No more he said. The wakeful Ruth at midnight shed A solitary tear; She thought again—and did agree With him to sail across the sea, And drive the flying deer. "And now, as fitting is and right, Even so they did; and I may say Through dream and vision did she sink, But, as you have before been told, So beautiful, through savage lands The wind, the tempest roaring high, Might well be dangerous food For him, a youth to whom was given So much of earth-so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood. |