THE ORANGE-BOUGH. Then bear me thence one bough, to shed And bind it, Mother! on my breast When I am laid in lonely rest. 133 VII. THE STREAM SET FREE. FLOW on, rejoice, make music, Bright living stream set free! The troubled haunts of care and strife Were not for thee! The woodland is thy country, Thou art all its own again; The wild birds are thy kindred race, That fear no chain. Flow on, rejoice, make music Unto the glistening leaves ! Thou, the beloved of balmy winds, And golden eves. THE STREAM SET FREE. 135 Once more the holy starlight Sleeps calm upon thy breast, Whose brightness bears no token more Of man's unrest. Flow, and let free-born music Flow with thy wavy line, While the stock-dove's lingering loving voice Comes blent with thine. And the green reeds quivering o'er thee, Strings of the forest-lyre, All fill'd with answering spirit-sounds, In joy respire. Yet, midst thy song's glad changes, Oh! keep one pitying tone For gentle hearts, that bear to thee Their sadness lone. One sound, of all the deepest, To bring, like healing dew, A sense, that nature ne'er forsakes The meek and true. Then, then, rejoice, make music, Thou stream, thou glad and free! The shadows of all glorious flowers Be set in thee! VIII. THE SUMMER'S CALL. COME away! the sunny hours Woo thee far to founts and bowers! O'er the very waters now, In their play, Flowers are shedding beauty's glowCome away! Where the lily's tender gleam Quivers on the glancing stream— Come away ! All the air is filled with sound, Soft, and sultry, and profound; |