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Strew'd with white sand, on which he used to trace
To charging hosts, and give the Indian yell,
all joy and dance
as bright and free
Yet sunny in their radiance, as that blue
'Bless thee!' at length he murmur'd, bless thee love! My wife! my boy!' Their eyes are raised above. His soldier's tread of sounding strength is gone,
A choking transport drowns his manly tone.
His glorious boy springs freshly from his sleep,
As half in fear, along the stranger's dress,
The cherub smile of love, the azure of the sky.
A snowy breast, like twilight's melting clouds,
The feelings of the heart that reels beneath his gaze.
I LOVED to hear the war-horn cry,
And panted at the drum's deep roll; And held my breath, when-flaming highI saw our starry banners fly,
As challenging the haughty sky;
They went like battle o'er my soul: For I was so ambitious then,
I burn'd to be the slave of men.
I stood and saw in the morning light,
Where nations warred for liberty:
I sail'd upon the dark-blue deep,
And shouted to the eagle soaring;
To hear the gallant waters roaring:
THE BIRTH OF A POET.
ON a blue summer night,
When the stars were asleep,
Like gems of the deep,
In their drowsy light;
While the newly-mown hay
On the green earth lay,
And all that came near it went scented away.
From a lone, woody place
There look'd out a face,
With large, blue eyes,
Like the wet, warm skies,
Brim full of water and light;
Flashing out in the air,
And a forehead alarmingly bright!
'Twas the head of a poet! He grew
As the sweet, strange flowers of the wilderness grow,
In the dropping of natural dew,
Till his heart had blown
As the sweet, strange flowers of the wilderness blow!
Till every thought wore a changeable strain,
With a haughty look, and a haughty tread,
Full of woe and surprise,
eyes of them that can see the dead. Looking about,
For a moment or two, he stood,
On the shore of the mighty wood;
Then ventured out,
With a bounding step and a joyful shout, The brave sky bending o'er him!
The broad sea all before him!